Some years ago a young man came from the West to Pittsburg as
a student. He did not know a solitary human being in either of
the “Twin Cities.” At his boarding-house he was asked where
he thought of going to church. He mentioned the place he had
chosen, not because he knew anybody there, but because it was
near at hand. “Well,” the questioner replied, “they will soon
freeze you out from that congregation.” “I’ll give them a
chance to welcome me, anyway,” was the rejoinder. “I don’t
believe they are as cold as you think.”
The next Sunday morning found the student waiting in the
vestibule for an usher to show him a seat. All of them were
busy at the time, and the young man waited--did not run out of
the door--just waited until some one had had a fair chance to
notice him. After a while he felt a little squeeze of his arm
from somebody behind. He turned and was confronted by a rather
stout gentleman of strong but kindly features. There was but one
word of inquiry--“Stranger?” “Yes, sir,” the young man replied.
“Come with me to my seat.” “Stranger” obeyed. Shortly after
two ladies entered the same pew. Not a word was spoken until
after the benediction. Then the stout gentleman uttered another
interrogatory word, “Student?” “Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Come
and take dinner with me.” (Aside: “What’s your name?”) “This
lady is my mother, and this, my sister. Here, let me introduce
you to one of our elders, and here comes the pastor, Dr. Cox.
Say, Mr. Shelly (a deacon), come over here; here’s a new friend
I have just found; we want him to get acquainted. Now, let’s
start for home.” (On the way): “Sing?” “A little--not very
much--just enough, I guess.” “Come up to our mission Sunday
school after dinner and help us, will you? I am superintendent.”
“Sure.”
That day was the beginning of three years of happy acquaintance
and helpful social intercourse with as cordial a congregation
as ever assembled in any church.--H. H. STILES,
_Christian Observer_.
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