But if I frequently found the people engaged in the noisy dance, I sometimes found the whole town steeped in sleep. One day I entered a town that was like a city of the dead; absolutely quiet, and no one to be seen. I walked the length of the town, thrusting my head in at every door, and asking the people to come out and hear God’s message; but only one man came. At last I asked this man if he would go and call the people. He started down the street, calling men and women by name as he passed, telling individuals in aloud voice their particular need of this preaching service, because of their personal sins, which he forthwith enumerated and charged upon them, exposing the private wickedness of men and women in brief biographical sketches, which it might be interesting but not edifying to repeat. I need not say that they responded to this urgent invitation. In a few minutes the whole population was in the street, eloquent with resentment. One might think that they had the tenderest reputations to sustain. I would not commend to my fellow ministers in America this novel method of securing a congregation. But how would one preach to such an audience? or what would one say? I am often asked. Well, that day I asked the people what kind of a king they would choose, if God should give them their choice. After some discussion they settled upon the idea of power. They would like a king who would be stronger than all their enemies, and especially stronger than the Mpongwe people. Then I taught them that Jesus whom God had sent is such a one; and I told them how He stilled the storm. Next, I asked them whether power alone would be sufficient. They first thought it would. “But,” I said, “suppose your king had no sense. Do you put a gun into the hands of a child? And would you like to see a foolish person armed with power that none of you could resist?” “Oh,” they said, looking at one another, “we never thought of that,” and it was soon agreed that the king of their choice must be wise as well as powerful. Then I said that Jesus was wise with the wisdom of God, knowing all our needs and how to supply them. Again I asked if this was all they would desire in their king, that he be powerful and wise. They were quite sure. “But,” I said, “suppose he were bad? that he loved only himself and robbed and killed you?” Just at this moment a little child began to cry, and all the child’s numerous parents, a considerable part of the audience, turned upon it with such a howl of remonstrance that the frightened child ran for the bush. “Suppose,” I continued, when they were again quiet, and looking as if they had done a good work,—“suppose your king were like yourselves (for you are cruel as beasts) and that he should howl at you and frighten you just as you did that child?”