Mr. World and his close friend left the second section of the College without pausing to visit the recitation rooms where Satan’s Missionary Experts were constantly teaching graded classes. In a few moments they entered the largest edifice of the Missionary College which was erected for the special purpose of teaching “_The Comparative Need of Home and Foreign Missionary Work._” Upon entering, Miss Church-Member was surprised at the interior arrangements of the rooms and the exceptional beauty of their finish. After a much needed rest in one of the sub-departments, they went to one of the higher floors, hoping to hear another lecture on some missionary theme. Mr. World smiled as they entered the room and saw that a woman occupied the platform. In a jovial manner he remarked that “women must be the best missionary orators.” The speaker was keen-eyed and shrewd, and well knew how to use sophistry in pathos and wit. She expounded to the audience the doctrine of Satan under whose service she was pledged to loyalty. “We are all missionaries,” she commenced, “and cannot escape the responsibility which is imposed upon us. Our duty is imperative. We stand at the open door of opportunity and enter so slowly into the fields of work all around us. When one sees rank bigotry and narrow-mindedness on every hand, he feels like blushing that he ever sent money to convert the heathen in far-away lands. The heathen at our own doors are more blood-thirsty than the cannibals of distant climes. I appeal to you all, noble women especially, to rid your minds of the fallacy of foreign work and do the foreign work at home, even inside your own doors. (Applause, principally among the men, in which Mr. World heartily joined.) I must confess that, at one time, I was almost overcome by this craze of evangelizing the world. My delusion went so far that I could see visions of China, Africa, or the remote islands of the sea, and even imagine that I heard voices calling me thither. One night I dreamed a dream, the kindest of them all. I saw a woman standing on the shore of a river, her children drowning at her side. But she, unmindful of her own blood, was hastening to launch a boat into the stream that she might rescue a sinking dog on the farther shore. “Ungrateful wretch,” I cried aloud on my bed so that I was awakened by my own voice. I was so moved by the dream that I could sleep no more that night, but sought for some one to make known unto me the interpretation thereof. I soon learned, to my personal shame, that I was that woman. I then and there vowed that I would no more be guilty of so great a crime. (Great applause, with cries of “noble decision!” “common sense!”) From that hour I assure you that I have been trying to evangelize the world--not the one across the river, (applause) but the one on this side. (Applause.)