Like most founders of sects, the prophet of the "New Sion" was at first surrounded by those despairing invalids and cripples who try all kinds of remedies, until at last they find one to which they attribute the relief of their sufferings, whether real or fancied. Such as these will do all that is required of them; they will give all their worldly goods to be saved; and they paid gladly the tenth part which Dowie immediately demanded from all who came to him, some of them even pouring their entire fortunes into the coffers of the new Elias. The ranks of his recruits were further swelled by crowds of hypochondriacs, and by the superstitious, the idle, and the curious, who filled his temple to such an extent that soon he was obliged to hire a large hall for his Sunday meetings, at which he was wont to appear in great magnificence with the cortege of a religious showman. These displays attracted widespread attention, and indeed Dowie neglected nothing in his efforts to make a deep and lasting impression on the public mind. Here is the account of an eye-witness:-- The prophet speaks. The audience preserves a religious silence. His voice has a quality so strange as to be startling. To see that broad chest, that robust and muscular frame, one would expect to hear rolling waves of sound, roarings as of thunder. But not so. The voice is shrill and sibilant, yet with a sonority so powerful that it vibrates on the eardrums and penetrates to the farthest corners of the hall. Presently the real object of the sermon is revealed. The enemies of Sion are denounced with a virulence that borders upon fury, and the preacher attacks violently those whom he accuses of persecuting his church. He poses as a martyr, and cries out that "the blood of the martyr is the seed of faith"; he pours out imprecations upon other religious sects; calls down maledictions upon the qualified doctors, who are to him merely "sorcerers and poisoners"; consigns "the vipers of the press" to destruction; and, carried away by the violence of his anathemas, launches this peroration upon the ears of his admiring audience: "If you wish to drink your reeking pots of beer, whisky, wine, or other disgusting alcoholic liquors; if you wish to go to the theatre and listen to Mephistopheles, to the devil, to Marguerite, the dissolute hussy, and Doctor Faust, her foul accomplice; if you wish to gorge yourselves upon the oyster, scavenger of the sea, and the pig, scavenger of the earth--a scavenger that there is some question of making use of in the streets of Chicago (_laughter_); it you wish, I say, to do the work of the devil, and eat the meats of the devil, you need only to remain with the Methodists, Baptists, or such-like. Sion is no place for you. We want only clean people, and, thanks to God, we can make them clean. There are many among you who need cleansing. You know that I have scoured you as was necessary, and I shall continue to do it, for you are far from clean yet."