"Excuse me, gentlemen," said young Mr. Banty, who had come in late, and had, sorely against his will, been compelled to occupy a seat among those whom he called "the Saints;" "Excuse me; I didn't come in to say anything to-day, but, things going as they are, I can't be quiet. I went abroad a year ago; most of you know why. There was a lady in the question. She died; I suppose it was best for her, for I didn't, in the slightest degree, begin to be fit for her, but her death didn't hurt me any the less. I haven't, since then, been as good a man as I should have been. I don't mind saying that the ways in which I've tried to forget my trouble haven't been such as have done me any good. But as everybody else has opened his heart to-day, I wouldn't be a bit of a man if I kept mine shut. I want to say that when I have a quiet hour, and get to thinking about that girl, there's something happens that I don't understand, but I'm very thankful for. I got to be a great deal less despairing, though, at the same time, I think a great deal more tenderly about _her_. I lose my ugliness at losing her; I see how much better it was for _her_; I see how things had better go as they should than as _I_ want them, and I come out of that time less willing to go on a spree, less anxious to see the boys, and more anxious to go on thinking than to do anything else." The order of rotation demanded that the next speaker should be Mr. Alleman, and that gentleman remarked: "I am heartily glad to see that there is one ground upon which all of us can meet. Those of you who know me know what frequent occasion I have had to learn all that you have learned of the unspeakable power of a comforting God. I have instinctively passed the greater portion of my life in my affections, for I know of no other sentiment which is so all-comprehensive; and through these I have found daily new causes for mourning. We are informed by Jesus that the greatest of all commandments is that enjoining love toward God, and that the second is like unto it, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' To try to fulfill this command is to have constant incentives to mournfulness. Every day I have them, from some cause heretofore unexpected, and the causes involve so many other people in troubles, which might be avoided, and for which I can blame only myself, that but for the presence of the Comforter I would be driven to despair or madness. What a tremendous responsibility rests upon us, my friends, in this our greatest relation to humanity, and how impossible it would be to endure it unless aided by a power greater than our own. I cannot, by any words, express my satisfaction at hearing so many men, and, in other religious matters, men of such differing views, testify to the unfailing promptness of the Great Sympathizer. And I should be glad to hear a wider expression of experiences, and assure myself that, in troubles outside the range purely personal, my fellow-beings enjoy the comfort that I do. I am