The Sunday school of Calvary Baptist Church certainly had about as pleasant and cheery quarters as could be desired. For one thing, it was not held in a damp, dark, unventilated basement as so many Sunday schools are.
And, oh, what a shame—what an extraordinary perversion of sense this condemning of the children to the cellars of the churches is! Just as though anything were good enough for them, when in them lies the hope of the Church, and every possible means should be employed to twine their young affections about it! But these words do not apply to the Calvary Sunday School, for it was not held in a dingy basement, but in a separate building that united in itself nearly every good quality such an edifice should possess. It was of ample size, full of light and air, had free exposure to the sunshine, and was so arranged that every convenience was offered for the work of the school. Around the central hall were arranged rooms for the Bible classes, the infant class, and the library, so planned that by throwing up sliding doors they became part of the large room. The walls were hung with pictures illustrating Bible scenes, and with mottoes founded upon Bible texts; and finally, the benches were of a special make that was particularly comfortable.
All this was quite a revelation to Frank when, after some little coaxing, Bert brought him to the school. His conception of a Sunday school was of going down into a gloomy basement, and being lectured about the Bible by a severe old man with a long grey beard. Instead of that, he found himself in one of the brightest rooms he had ever seen, and receiving a cordial welcome from a handsome young gentleman, to whom Bert had just said:
"This is my friend Frank, Mr. Silver. He's going to come to school with me after this."
"Very glad indeed to have you, Frank," said Mr. Silver, giving him a warm grasp of the hand. "Sit right down with Bert, and make yourself at home."
And Frank sat down, so surprised and pleased with everything as to be half inclined to wonder if he was not dreaming. Then the fine singing, as the whole school, led by an organ and choir, burst forth into song, the bright pleasant remarks of the superintendent, Mr. Hamilton, Bert's ideal of a "Christian soldier," and the simple earnest prayer offered,—all impressed Frank deeply.
No less interesting did he find Mr. Silver's teaching of the lesson. Mr. Silver attached great importance to his work in the Sunday school. Nothing was permitted to interfere with thorough preparation for it, and he always met his class brimful of information, illustration, and application, bearing upon the passage appointed for the day. And not only so, but by shrewd questioning and personal appeal he sent the precious words home to his young hearers and fixed them deep in their memories. He was a rare teacher in many respects, and Bert was very fond of him. Frank did not fail to be attracted by him. As he and Bert left the school together, Bert asked:
"Well, Frank, how do you like my Sunday school?"
"First rate," replied Frank, heartily. "Say, but isn't Mr. Silver nice? Seems as though I'd known him for ever so long instead of just to-day."
"Guess he is nice," said Bert. "He's just the best teacher in the school. You'll come every Sunday now, won't you, Frank?"