of it has never reached this writer. He seems not to require much sleep, and yet there are times in certain stages of a meeting when he does not sleep as well as he should. There are times in every campaign when the burden upon him from the meeting is terrific. There is so much at stake, and so multitudinous are the cares and details, and so disastrous would be the result should essential things not be properly looked after, that sleep is sometimes hardest to obtain when needed the most. It is doubtful if any other evangelist was ever so good a sleeper as Moody. He made it a lifelong habit never to sap his energy by the slightest friction of worry. He believed that if he did the best he knew, and did his work the best he was able, the Lord could be trusted to carry all the burden, and that is why he could go on his way in light marching order. But we must remember that, in their mental and physical makeup, Moody and Sunday were the opposite of each other. Moody did his work at a deliberate walk, while Sunday does his on the run, for the spirit of the age has taken hold of him. Moody never ran a footrace, even to make a train, while Sunday was a sprinter from his babyhood. Both were ever intensely in earnest, and each with a consuming passion for souls, but being so opposite in character their zeal found vent in quite different ways. While in a meeting at Steubenville, Ohio, and several weeks before the beginning of the campaign at Pittsburg, Sunday and his party went over to Pittsburg, to have a meeting with the ministers who had given him a call. When Sunday was introduced he called up the different members of his party, one after another, and asked each one to tell the ministers all about his or her part of the work. The information thus given created much interest and surprise on the part of the preachers, not many of whom knew much about the magnitude and extent of the work. In this way every preacher present was quickly enabled to see what a tremendous sweep the movement is certain to have in a city. After all the others had spoken, and answered all the questions propounded to them, "Ma" Sunday was called to the platform, and also introduced by her husband. She brought down the house in the very first breath, by saying— "And my work is to sit on the safety valve." Then in a pertinent little speech that was full of good hits and plenty of information, the preachers of Pittsburg were speedily made to see that " Ma" Sunday's part in the great movement is far from being a sinecure. No one could long be associated with Sunday without making the discovery that being famous has its drawbacks. Living in the limelight has its advantages, to be sure, and very great ones they are too, sometimes, but it also has its drawbacks, and nobody knows it better than Billy Sunday. It is not always the flower-strewn path, arched with rainbows and carpeted with velvet, that those of us who dwell in the valley of humility may suppose it to be. One of the trying things about it is, that if you do anything that lifts you above the common level, you can't turn around without having people everywhere put on their nose glasses to stare at you. Lion hunters everywhere will get after you, and chase you up hill and down without mercy. The famous man is regarded as public property everywhere. On the street, in the store, on the train, in the hotel or private home, people will hold their breath and stand still to look at him. If he smiles they will look tickled, and if he frowns they will look serious and shake their heads in great solemnity. It is said that in Japan whenever an American goes to his room all the neighbors will surround the house and punch holes through the paper walls with their fingers, through which to stare at him. A fate something like that follows the famous man in this country wherever he goes. People with eyes like X-rays are always springing out upon him. There There is no retirement, no seclusion for him. Wherever he goes somebody is sure to recognize him and let the cat out of the bag, and then there is no rest for the weary. If Sunday were to meet all the people who press upon him for interviews when he is in the midst of a campaign, he would have no time or opportunity for anything else. And most of those who thus want to see him have no business with him whatever. They may have heard him preach somewhere, years ago, perhaps, and believe it will make him shouting happy for them to call and tell him so. Sunday shrinks from being lionized, and never feels so ill at ease as when people gushingly praise him to his face, and yet he would not under any consideration say or do anything that would in the slightest way lessen his influence for good with any one. It is because of this that he often gives up the opportunity for much needed rest to meet urgent calls for interviews. Tens of thousands of people have been converted through Sunday's instrumentality, and hosts of these feel that they have a strong personal interest in him, and in whatever belongs to him. That is why great throngs go to see his home at Winona Lake, and it is also the reason that none who call are ever turned away without being courteously shown over the house, even in the absence of the family. |