"Now sing 'Almost persuaded,'" said Dr. Vincent, his own voice tremulous with his highly wrought feeling. Many voices took that up. Even the Chautauqua girls sang, all but Eurie. With the sentence:
"Seems now some soul to say, Go, spirit, go thy way; Some more convenient day On thee I'll call."
Flossy tamed her anxious, appealing eyes on Eurie, but she was laughing merrily over the attempt of a feeble old man near her to join in the song, and Flossy whispered sadly to Ruth: "Eurie has not even as much interest as that."
The spell of the message and the music lingered, even after Dr. Vincent had gone again. There was no more grumbling; there was very little laughing; a subdued spirit seemed to brood over the great company.
"We could almost have a revival, right here," said one thoughtful man, looking with searching eyes, up and down the sea of faces.
"I tell you, no grander opportunity was ever more grandly improved than by those few words of Dr. Vincent's. They touched bottom. He will meet those words again with joy, or I am mistaken."
But the waiting was over; suddenly the Chautauqua bells began to peal; strains of martial music, and the roll of drums, mingled with the booming of cannon; and almost before they were aware, even after all their waiting, twenty thousand people stood face to face with their nation's chief.
"When the president's head appears above this platform, I hope it will thunder here," had been Dr. Vincent's suggestion several hours before.
Thunder! That was no comparison! I hope even _he_ was satisfied. Then how that song of greeting rung out; tender still, even in its power: "Let the hearts of all the people circle him with prayer." No better gift for him than that.
After the cheering and the singing, and the very brief speech from the president himself, came the address of welcome by Dr. Fowler of Chicago. His first sentence sent the multitude into another storm of cheers. Said he: "The work that I thought to do, has been done by twenty thousand people." How could they help doing it again after that? Chautauqua had not dropped her colors in this plan of an afternoon given to the president.
The address of welcome from first to last rang with the gospel invitation, "come;" no better word than that even for their chief; "honor to whom honor is due," quoted the speaker, and then followed his graceful tribute, but it closed with a tender, dignified, earnest appeal to the President of the United States to 'rest' in the same refuge, to enlist under the same flag, to be loyal to the same Chief, whom they were met to serve.