“In London Town there are always queer, unexpected things to be seen and heard. The other day my wife and I went out to lunch, and we were waiting in a queue. Suddenly above the noise of the busy street we heard a tin whistle being played. The tune was ‘_O Jesus, I have promised_’—and it was played very well, too. This was followed by ... ‘_Jerusalem the golden_.’ I looked, but couldn’t see the musician. “The queue moved up, and I was afraid I wasn’t going to see the tin whistle expert at all. But just as we got level with the door I did see him. He was now giving a spirited rendering of ‘_The Church’s one foundation_’—and he was a grey-headed old Negro. He wore what had been a very smartly cut officer’s tunic. The tune finished, the old fellow sat down on a doorstep. “Where, I wondered, had he learned these hymn-tunes? And where had that Lascar seaman in the street in West Hartlepool learnt ‘_There’s a Friend for Little Children_?’—for he was humming it as he passed me by.” —_F. H. E. in “The Methodist Recorder,” London._ Nothing is more beautiful than the sight of a company of Christians singing their hymns of praise. —_Roy L. Smith._ That Was Yesterday! “Why, Samuel!” exclaimed the surprised wife of the beloved Bishop Samuel Fallows, one morning. The story as related by Dr. Roy L. Smith referred to a night when the ageing bishop returned from a rather stormy meeting. Harsh things had been said, and he appeared thoroughly discouraged. Entering the home, his wife, with womanly instinct, sensed the situation. The bishop even went to bed without partaking of his usual cup of hot milk. Full of understanding sympathy, his wife expected him to remain in bed a little later than usual, and possibly have breakfast taken to him. But when she quietly entered his room, he was pulling the “weights of his ancient exercise machine.” Meanwhile he was singing: “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing; Tune my heart to sing Thy grace, Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise.” All this was so unexpected that the good and anxious woman, in her astonishment, could only say, “Why, Samuel!” “Why what?” questioned the bishop, without missing a beat in the rhythm of his morning exercise. “Why that board meeting last night. I thought you would stay in bed this morning, and try to get a bit of rest.” “That board meeting, what about it?” he asked, as he came to a halt. “Why it must have been terrible. You came home utterly spent and discouraged,” was the reply. Resuming his exercise, the bishop quietly remarked, “O that was yesterday.” The gentle man would not permit what happened yesterday to take from him his praiseful song. Therefore as he continued to pull his exercise machine he resumed the singing of his hymn: