old that her apparel was indeed mag

Ment history had a wonderful charm for him. He would have been ready
to hew any modern Agag in pieces before the Lord. He finally found
his way to the Insane Asylum. The reader
has already seen how
abnormal was his mind, and will not be surprised that his
storm-tossed soul lost its rudder at last. But mid all its veerings
he never lost sight of the Star that had shed its light upon his
checkered path of life. He raved, and prayed, and wept, by turns. The
horrors of mental despair would be followed by gleams of seraphic

joy. When one of his stormy moods was upon him, his mighty voice
could be heard above all the sounds of that
sad and pitiful company of broken and wrecked souls. The old
class-meeting instinct and habit showed itself in his semi-lucid
intervals. He would go round among the patients questioning them as
to their religious feeling and behavior in true class-meeting style.
Dr. Shurtleff one day overheard a colloquy between him and Dr.
Rogers, a freethinker and reformer, whose vagaries had
culminated in his
shaving close one side of his immense whiskers, leaving the other
side in all its flowing amplitude.
Poor fellow! Pitiable as was his case, he made a ludicrous figure
walking the streets of San Francisco half shaved, and defiant of the
wonder and ridicule he excited. The
ex-class-leader's voice was earnest and loud, as he said: "Now,
Rogers, you must pray. If you will get down at the feet of Jesus,

and confess

your sins, and ask him to bless you, he will hear you, and give you
peace. But if you won't do it," he continued, with growing
excitement
and kindling anger at the thought, "you are the most infernal rascal
that
ever lived, and I'll beat you
into a jelly!" The good Doctor had to interfere at this point, for
the old
man was in the very act of carrying out his threat to punish Rogers
bodily, on
the bare possibility

that he would not pray as he was told to do. And so that extemporized
class-meeting came to an abrupt
end. "Pray with me," he said to me the last time I saw him at the
Asylum. Closing the door of the little private office, we knelt side
by side,
and the poor old sufferer, bathed in tears, and d