Louisville would have received the attentions and favors which this poor converted gambler, Steve Holcombe, did receive. It reminds one of a passage in Dr. Prime's account of the funeral of Jerry McAuley in the Broadway Tabernacle in New York. Dr. Prime himself was to conduct the funeral service, and this is what he says: "We are going to-day to the tabernacle to talk of what Jerry McAuley was and what he has done, to the little congregation that will gather there. If it were Dr. Taylor, the beloved and honored pastor, the house would be crowded and the streets full of mourners, but poor Jerry, he is dead and who will be there to weep with us over his remains? Ah, how little did I know the place poor Jerry held in the hearts of the people of this vast city! I was to conduct the funeral and went early to complete all arrangements. As I turned down from Fifth avenue through Thirty-fourth street, I saw a vast multitude standing in the sunshine, filling the streets and the square in front of the tabernacle. Astonished at the spectacle and wondering why they did not go and take seats in the church, I soon found that the house was packed with people so that it was impossible for me to get within the door. Proclamation was made that the clergy who were to officiate were on the outside, and a passage was made for us to enter. What could be more impressive and what more expressive of the estimate set upon the man and his work? There is no other Christian worker in the city who would have called out these uncounted thousands in a last tribute of love and in honor of his memory." The tribute which the people of Louisville paid to the work and worth of Steve Holcombe _before_ his death was hardly less. On Monday, the day following his misfortune, Mr. Holcombe's room was, nearly all the day long, full of people of every grade, from the mayor and the richest and finest people on Broadway and Fourth avenue, down to the poor drunkard and outcast, who forgot his shabby dress and pressed in among those fine people in order to see "Brother Holcombe," and find out how he was. The ministers of the leading churches of every Protestant denomination came with words of sympathy and prayer. Fine ladies came in their carriages, bringing baskets of fruit and all sorts of delicacies. Those who could not go sent letters and messages. And Mr. Holcombe lay in his bed and wept--not for pain, but for gratitude and humble joy. "Why," said he, "I would be willing to have half a dozen legs broken to know that these people think so much of me and of my poor efforts to be useful." This, then, was the first compensation and blessing. He learned also that it would be absolutely necessary for him to watch more closely his impulsive and fiery temper, and get a better control of it. For he does not deny that he was inexcusably hasty and severe in his treatment of the impudent intruder.