A min­is­ter­i­al bro­ther says that when a child he heard a ser­mon on the text, So run that ye ob­tain, and hear­ing the mem­bers so strong­ly ex­hort­ed to en­gage in a race, he thought it was go­ing to take place right after the ser­vice. Great­ly did he feel dis­ap­point­ed when, hav­ing hast­ened out of the church to get a good po­si­tion on the fence, from which he could get a good view of the rac­ers, he found that they did not run a bit.

In Cun­ning­ham Val­ley [Penn­syl­van­ia], we had lit­er­al­ly such a race at the close of preach­ing. The church con­sist­ed of but one au­di­ence-room, and that was wedged so full of hear­ers, that it was im­pos­si­ble in a pray­er-meet­ing ser­vice to speak to those who de­sired to make known their an­xi­e­ties, and to seek spe­cial ad­vice. So we se­cured three rooms at a ho­tel a few squares dist­ant. But these, prov­ing in­ad­e­quate to hold all, there was a re­gu­lar race at the close of each ser­vice to gain ad­mit­tance.

As there was a thaw in mid-win­ter, and roads un­paved, it was an amus­ing sight to see the au­di­ence splash­ing through the mud on a re­gu­lar trot,—men, women and child­ren run­ning as if for their lives.

What still add­ed to the im­press­ive­ness of the scene was the fact that the ta­vern sign, swing­ing on its rusty pi­vots over our heads as we en­tered the ta­vern, screeched most pi­teous­ly, as if it were ut­ter­ing the death groans of King Al­co­hol, and so they proved to be.

Most of the in­mates of the land­lord’s fam­i­ly be­com­ing sub­jects of grace, the sign-post was cut down af­ter the close of our meet­ing, and the build­ing was af­ter­wards used for other pur­pos­es.

Long, p. 144