I called recently on an old gentleman who had become generally disgusted with "dese yere churches roun year." I found him poring over a big, well-worn Bible, the perspiration pouring down his shiny face, and with a big pair of spectacles resting on the tip of his nose. With an air of superior wisdom he surveyed me over the top of the spectacles, and then solemnly stated to the few who gathered around as I sat down on an old soap box, "Dat a preacher? I kin tell a preacher the fus question I ask him." Then taking off the spectacles and slowly closing the big Bible, he went on: "Now I'se gwine to put you all a question" (looking at the others) "an den I'se gwine ter ask de preacher, an I can tell whedder he'm a good one or not." "Now," said he, "when we gits cold and wicked follerin' our own ways, how does de Lord brung us back again to our senses?" This question was put with various modifications to each in turn until it came to me. "Now, what does you say?" he said to me. I replied that my experience said "Trouble." "Yah! Yah! dat's it, Trouble. You's answered it, shore; dese yere ignorant niggers, dey don't know nuffin. Ise gwine up to hear you preach next Sunday." And sure enough, there he was the next Sunday and his wife with him. This is about the way we gather them in, one by one. A great many families are gathered in by getting their children interested. A parent sends his little ones to our school and says: "I never had no chance to git learnin', but I wants my children to have it."