the thin face of the ambitious student, that promised something better than a hotel life.

Eneas was a Christian; [3]he and his two brothers and his cousin had all heard the Gospel preached by R. C. Ricketts, as they had never heard it in the old country. Over there, to escape the formalism of the Church of England, they had listened to the Dissenters; they had watched sinners hovering on the Anxious-seat of the Presbyterians, and the Mourning-bench of the Methodists. Such ante-rooms to Grace were held indispensable. As the eminent Congregationalist, Dr. Finney explained, so nearly all believed: "The church has always felt it necessary to have something of this kind. In the days of the apostles baptism answered this purpose. The Gospel was preached to the people and all who were willing to be on Christ's side were called on to be baptized. It held the precise place that the anxious seat does now, as a public manifestation of their determination to be Christians."

But Eneas and his relatives had been called upon by the preacher, not to come to something which served the same purpose as an institution of old, but to the institution itself. "Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit!" This was the trumpet call of R. C. Ricketts. To the simple blacksmith, it sounded like a voice long silent, issuing from the sacred past. He had never heard it proclaimed before. He and his obeyed the call. Having entered upon the Christian life, this blacksmith felt an inexhaustible enthusiasm for the cause. He had been made so happy by his acceptance of what opponents called the "new religion" that he wanted all his friends to partake of his happiness. When W. T. Moore came to May's Lick to raise funds for Bethany College, the first college of the disciples,—Eneas took his old rusty pen and wrote "$100."

Moore, in surprise, looked at the stalwart form in its rude garb, and then at the homely scene in which it seemed in keeping. "This is more than you ought to give!" he exclaimed. "How do you make it?"

"Oh," said the blacksmith, casting the pen aside, and lifting his hammer, "I beat it out of this iron! It is such a good cause, I'm sure I can give $100.00."

That was when Oliver was fifteen. W. T. Moore was holding a meeting at the church, working up the college endowment during the day. One evening, when Oliver entered the shop, as he did daily, seeking his kindling, Ed Myall looked up from his work, and said, "Ollie, isn't it time for you to be a Christian?" He would have said more, but his voice failed him. The boy, without a word, turned and went away. It was the first time anyone had ever spoken to him about being a Christian. He had dropped out of the Sunday school; he rarely attended church.

His sister Minnie was the first of the family to become a Christian. She repented; she confessed her faith; she was baptized; and then she became a missionary, thus: She met Oliver in the hall, as by accident—such matters come hard to the young and inexperienced—and said, "Ol, I want you to be a good boy!"

That was all; but he knew what she meant. The opportunity to go to church was not wanting, for Mr. and Mrs. Carr were always ready to take the work in hand for that purpose. They wanted the children to go to church, though, to be sure, they would have preferred the churches of their fathers. So on Sunday, Oliver went to church and heard W. T. Moore preach the first sermon he had ever understood. The same points were preached over and over, "What must I do to be saved?" And after that, when Oliver was driving passengers to and fro, or hauling wheat to market, he was thinking incessantly over what he had heard, that question of old,—"What must I do to be saved?" and then of the answer, as it had come from the lips of Peter and Silas and Paul. And he made the resolution, "Next Sunday, I will do what I think right!"

He asked his father's permission to "join the church." "If you know what you are doing," said William Carr, "go ahead."

Oliver thought he knew. The next Sunday he did up his morning's work, then walked to the Christian Church, where he made his confession of faith. It was a joyous occasion, and few eyes were dry, as the lad stood up to make known the new born desire of his heart. There were no looks cast at him askance, no chill of social cast. All felt one in Christ Jesus, and there was nothing but love for the lad from Lewis County.

And his mother who was by inheritance a Methodist, said, "The Campbellites have got Ollie!" He was baptized; of all his family, only Minnie was present.

One afternoon Oliver, now sixteen, came home for the last time from May's Lick Academy. He had finished the course. He carried his report proudly. "Seven" was the highest mark according to the teacher's system. Oliver's card was sprinkled all over with "7's." As he drew near the tavern, he saw his father in his chair, which had been brought outside.

He examined the report of his son with laudable pride, then said, "Well, Ollie, you will have to finish for yourself, now. I'm not able to send you to school any longer."

Of course, there was plenty of hard work. There was the wheat for him to haul across the county to Maysville, and the loads of coal to be brought home from the river; and there were the passengers to be carried to and fro; and, always, the home tasks.

But this life of crushed ambitions was not long to continue. Soon after Oliver's admission into the church, Eneas Myall, the blacksmith, walked into Carr's Hotel, accompanied by a prominent member of the church. Oliver happened to be in the hall when they began speaking to his father. He heard a few words, and crept nearer the door, his heart leaping in wild tumult.

He heard the blacksmith's voice, that voice which had often cheered him as he went about his daily tasks. And now it was asking if William Carr would consent to Oliver's being sent to Kentucky University at Harrodsburg; saying that he and Dr. A. H. Wall would pledge themselves to furnish the money. Is it a wonder that to Oliver Carr, that voice "sounded like sweetest music?"

William expressed his sorrow at not being able to educate his children as he wished; he appreciated the offer now made. "But," he said, earnestly, "don't undertake this, unless you are sure you can go on with it; I don't want you to give him up!"

A few days later Eneas Myall came with his hard-earned money, and placed it in Oliver's hands, asking him to take it with the love of its donors. And so, at the age of sixteen, Oliver Carr went to the University at Harrodsburg, to study for the ministry.

So, this is what we have found, in our quest of a possible husband for Mattie Myers—this Oliver Carr, who, as it appears, is far from being a rich young man. Will brother Joe be satisfied? Nay, will he ever consent? At any rate, they must be brought together. Let us return to the overworked pupil of John Augustus Williams, she who parsed, in class, too much of that MS. of his "Life of John Smith" for her health. We shall find her still upon her sick-bed, hovering between life and death.