We are prone to imagine that the first ages of the Church saw only saints within the fold, and sinners without. But we have only to read the writings of the early Fathers to see that this was not the case. If we consider our mission stations at the present day, and consult our evangelists among the heathen, we shall discover that the newly converted on entering the Church, bring with them much of their past: their prejudices, their superstitions, their ignorance, and their passions. The most vigilant care has to be exercised in watching against relapse in the individual, and deterioration of the general tone. The converts in the first ages were not made of other flesh and blood than those now introduced into the sheepfold, and the difficulties now encountered by missionaries beset the first pastors of Christ fifteen and sixteen hundred years ago. In an honest attempt to portray the condition of the Church at the opening of the third century, we must describe things as they were, and not as we should wish them to have been. The _atrium_ or courtyard was not lighted; there was sufficient illumination from above. The curtains of the _tablinum_ were close drawn, as the reception chamber was not to be put in requisition that night. The _triclinium_ or dining‐room that received light through the doorway only would have been dark had not a lamp or two been kindled there. About thirty persons were present, male and female, but no children. Some were slaves from believing households; there were a few freedmen. Some were poor artisans, weavers, bakers, and men who sold charcoal, a porter, and a besom‐maker. Quincta and Perpetua were the highest in social position of those present. A second deacon, named Marcianus, was there, a handsome man, peremptory in manner, quick in movement; in every point a contrast with his timid, hesitating brother in the ministry. The bishop had not arrived when the Agape began, and the blessing was spoken by an aged and feeble presbyter. The tables were spread with viands, and the deacons and deaconesses ministered to those who reclined at them. There was not room for all in the dining‐chamber, and a table and couches had been spread in the court for such as could not be accommodated within. The proceedings were marked by the strictest propriety, the eating and drinking were in moderation, conversation was edifying, and general harmony prevailed. During the meal, a knocking was heard at the outer gate, and when the porter asked the name of the applicant for admission, the password was given, and he was admitted. All rose to receive Castor, the bishop.