THE OLD COMMISSARY BUILDING.
We held a series of revival meetings at South Williamsburgh, in the old commissary building. Wish some of the good people of the North, who meet in churches and chapels, plastered and nicely warmed, and comfortably seated, could have dropped in upon us and spent an hour. Of course, they would have had the back-ache and cold feet, and, perhaps, carried away a flea or two, even in March, but they would have gone home saying, "If people can meet in such a place, some refined, intelligent ladies even, and continue to go night after night, I ought to be very, very willing to go to my church whenever the Lord calls a meeting and my presence and voice are necessary." But that you may appreciate the contrast with your pleasant place of meeting, let me take you to the old commissary building.
It's a box-house; that is, it's made of boards set upright and nailed at the bottom and middle and top to joists. Over this crazy structure sets a roof made of long oaken shingles hewn with the broad axe. Step inside of the building, which will hold 125 people, and see the whole construction. Rough boards with the curve of the circular saw on them and now dingy with smoke, make the sides; oaken shingles black with smoke, slope above.
A "cannon stove" sends most of its smoke through a rusty pipe up through a piece of sheet iron to the air. The sparks, and now and then a star, shine through about the pipe. Newspapers pasted over the widest cracks on the sides of the room keep out the heaviest drafts. I remember one night when it was snowing (even here, in March), a flurry of wind brought down a glistening shower on the shoulders of the congregation. The roof usually turns water, however.
Please stand here by the door and talk to the people. Feet get cold? I don't wonder. The door was made an inch and a half too short. You ask "why in the name of health don't you fix it?" Well, just sit there against the wall. You sit down, and a projecting horizontal joist takes you right in the back of the neck and makes you crane your head forward in a most uncomfortable way. Poor place to get asleep; one would pitch right forward on the floor. You see, if we commenced to "fix up," we wouldn't know where to begin, for one lack is as great as another. One night we held a meeting in that building, and before morning the thermometer fell to zero. We need a good stove; that one is full of cracks in front, so we always left a boy to watch after meeting till the fire died out. We just make the house do; strips have been laid on the floor, paper pasted over the wall gaps, seats of rough boards set in the building, windows tightened, and there we gathered. God's Spirit met us in spite of cold and dinginess and needs. I believe ten or twelve rose for prayers during those two weeks. Since warm weather Brother Myers has continued the meetings, and I trust a score or more have given their hearts to the Lord.
Jas. T. Ford.