“Many of the houses in which we worship are by far too small to accommodate the congregations that generally gather on quarterly meeting occasion. Indeed, many of our meetings are held in schoolhouses, only intended to seat fifty or seventy-five scholars. Now put two hundred persons, or more, into such a space, standing the most of them around the wall, and in the aisles, and then distribute from fifty to one hundred around the house on the outside, each striving to get his head in at a window, and any one, though he be unused to such things, can see the difficulty of preaching under such circumstances. If the people listen with interest they must be comfortably situated. “In many country districts away from the railroad, the time kept by the people varies so materially that it is next to impossible to get them together at the same hour. No two clocks agree, hence the people begin to assemble at ten o’clock in the morning and keep on _assembling_ till noon. At the appointed hour the elder announces the first hymn, and then leads in prayer. During these opening exercises, perhaps twenty-five persons have come upon the ground, and as soon as the _amen_ is heard they make a rush for seats. “Another hymn is sung, and still they come. The text is finally announced, but what of it? The people keep on coming. The middle of the sermon, by and by, is reached, and the preacher is still annoyed; not for three minutes at any time has he had an open field. Only one more proposition to discuss; it is the most important one. His strength has been reserved mainly for it; but just as he begins to lay it open, having secured the attention of the audience, the door creaks and in come a half dozen women. A general stir follows. The seats are all full; something must be done, so a half dozen men get up and surrender their places. Still the people come. The preacher is on the home stretch, but is badly disheartened. He has preached to the people, to be sure, but a good part of the time to the backs of their heads. Not half of those present when he began can tell what his text is. Indeed, he is so confused sometimes that he hardly knows himself what it is. He has just one more illustration to give. He hopes to make it tell, and is succeeding well. The audience for a moment is silent as death; but of a sudden the door opens again and a few more try to enter. In an instant every eye is turned, and the thread of thought is dropped, and the preacher sits down disgusted and dissatisfied. “Of course it is not always this way, but frequently such is the case. On such occasions the people go home no wiser than when they came. Having been to _meetin’_ is the only pleasing thought enjoyed.