In the eyes of the majority of the Kirk Session, there was little risk in receiving into membership the well-to-do respectable sinner, but when the minister narrated the conversations he had had with John Gage, and suggested his name as a candidate for membership, eyebrows were raised and heads shook ominously. "Wad it no' be better to put him off for a few months to see whether he could stan' alone first?" was the question of John McNair, the senior elder. Colonel Monteith, who was greatly burdened with the responsibility for maintaining the dignity of the Presbyterian Church, wondered whether "this rather disreputable man Gage would not find more congenial associates down in the Free Methodist Hall." Tom Rollins didn't know "how the people would take it." Murray Meiklejohn, characterized by his reticence and good common sense, moved that "John Gage be received," and stammeringly added that so far as leaving John to stand alone was concerned, he "guessed" they had been doing that ever since he came to town, ten years ago. And so with some misgivings, and with some wounded pride, the Session included John Gage in its reception list. On Friday night, an hour before the time for preparatory service, John called at the Manse. "I'm a-trembling all through," he said to the minister, "and I was half-minded not to come. If it hadn't been for what you said about the hospital being a place for sick folks, I wouldn't had the courage to face it." The preparatory service of that night is still spoken of in the quiet village. Perhaps the atmosphere was created by one who had prayed much that day that the congregation might receive a new vision of the Redeemer, through the words of one for whom not an individual in the entire congregation had any hope six weeks before. The sermon over, the minister and elders extended the right hand of fellowship to the little company occupying the front seats. "To-night," said the minister, as he returned to the platform, "I have asked my friend Mr. John Gage to say a few words." The lecture-hall had probably never known stiller moments than those immediately following the announcement. John Gage, pale and trembling, not daring to look at his audience, stood facing the platform. In a low voice he said, "Well, friends, I have been a bad man--that's no news to anybody, but God helping me I'm going to be better. Seems like a miracle, don't it, that John Gage has been sober for five weeks?" As he sat down, the "Let us pray" of the minister preceded a petition for "our brother," that made most hearts tender and prayerful. "It's a new day for St. Andrew's," said Murray Meiklejohn, as he shook the hand of the minister after the benediction. "Nothing like to-night's meeting in my memory. Looks as if we were going to stop singing 'Rescue the Perishing' and get on the job."