Old Bill never quite knew how it happened, but he suddenly found himself up in front holding the stranger’s hand and telling him that he wanted help to quit drink. Side by side they knelt while the saved man earnestly poured out his heart to God for the drunkard. Old Bill did not know how to pray, he had never tried in his life, but he wanted help; all his soul longed for it. He listened to the other man praying. He was asking for just what Bill needed; his heart joined in. Yes, he wanted to quit drinking; he wanted to be a good man, but he had to have help. The other man prayed as though God were right close by, and Bill felt that He must be, so he said: “Yes, God, I’ll quit it if you’ll help me. I’ll be a man if you’ll help me, but I can’t do it by myself!” That was all, but he meant it, and he felt that God would help him. A strange, quiet peace came into his heart, and he really felt happy. He went home sober that night. Some of the “bunch” outside the tent had seen Bill go forward, and soon the news was in all the saloons. “He’ll be back by Saturday night,” they said. But he did not come back. Instead he was in the meeting telling the people what wonderful things God had done for him. He did not want strong drink any more at all, he declared. The “bunch” did not believe this. They laughed and made many prophecies; they waited week by week, but Old Bill came to the saloon no more. Two years passed; Bill lived a joyful Christian life and never tired of telling what the Lord had done for him. He went out to a country schoolhouse, where he organized a Sunday-school and labored zealously and successfully. There were many temptations. At first the “bunch” laughed and made him the butt of many rude jests, then they laid plans to trap him. One day one of them stuck an open whisky-bottle under his nose, saying, “Smell it, Bill; ain’t it a fine odor?” Bill stepped back, all smiles, and said quietly, “Well, Tom, drink was my master a long time, but I have a better Master now.” He went on his way unobstrusively but steadily, and finally won the respect and confidence of all. At last the end came; Old Bill was dead. There was a peaceful smile upon his face, for his sun had gone down in splendor. The “bunch” followed him to the grave. They could not quite understand even yet what had happened to him. It was a wonderful change, and his life had won their respect, and they followed him silently to his last resting-place. After the burial they stood talking it over in a little group by themselves, “I thought the drink had him sure,” said one; “I don’t see how he beat it.” “It was not Bill who did it,” said a quiet voice behind them; “it was Jesus Christ.” They turned and saw the pastor walking away. “Guess the parson must have it right,” said one of them. “It was a pretty good job, too.” TALK NINETEEN. DIVINE AND WORLDLY CONFORMITY