Those who are familiar with Mr. Holcombe's career as a Christian worker would regard any sketch of his life incomplete which did not contain some account of the assault made upon him by three strange men in the winter of 1887. A few months after his removal to the new quarters that had been purchased by the Mission, he was attacked by three men in his own house and severely injured. On a Sunday afternoon in January, 1887, he heard some one walking in the hall on the second floor of the building, and went out to see who it was. He found a man there whom he had never seen before, and asked him who he was and what he wanted. The man replied in an insolent, manner that he had come to visit a servant girl who was at the time working in Mr. Holcombe's family. When Mr. Holcombe asked him why he came into his private family apartments, the man became more impudent and defiant, and gave utterance to some abusive language. Already provoked at the man's audacity and alarmed at the thought of what such a ruffian might have done to some one of his family if he had been absent, Mr. Holcombe's quick nature now became so exasperated that he forgot himself for a moment and thrust the man violently down the stairway and out of the house. The man left the place and Mr. Holcombe thought that was the end of it. But an hour or two later some one knocked at his room door on the same floor, and as he opened it, he saw himself confronted by three men, one of whom he recognized as the man he had put out of the house. The two others professed to be policemen who had come to arrest Mr. Holcombe, but when he asked to see their badges of authority they seized him. One against three, he resisted them with all his might, uttering no cry of distress or call for help. In the struggle Mr. Holcombe's leg was broken, both bones of it, and as he fell, with all his weight, the men thought he was badly hurt and fled, leaving him lying helpless on the floor. He was taken up by those whom he called and laid on his bed. Physicians were sent for. The news spread in a few minutes all over the neighborhood, and before night, all over the city. The Chief of Police, Colonel Whallen, set his detectives to work looking for the men, and many citizens, self-constituted detectives, inquired concerning the appearance of the men and kept a sharp lookout for them. But they succeeded in escaping, and it was, perhaps, well for them they did. Before night Mr. Holcombe's room was crowded with friends filled with sympathy and indignation. Drs. Kelly and Alexander set the broken limb and gave Mr. Holcombe the unwelcome bit of information that he would have to lie in his bed for some five or six weeks, a sore trial to his restless spirit; but by the help of God he accepted it and settled down to endure it, not knowing, however, what good he was to get out of it. It was an opportunity for the people of Louisville to show their estimation and appreciation of him, and it is safe to say that no man in