In my early Christian life, says President Finney, I heard a Methodist Bishop report a case that made a deep impression on my mind. He said there was, in his neighborhood, a gentleman of fortune, who was a gay, agreeable man, and gave himself much to various field sports, and other amusements. He used to associate much with his pastor, and often invite him to dinner, and accompany him in his sport and pleasure-seeking excursions of various kinds. The minister cheerfully complied with these requests, and a friendship grew up between the pastor and his parishioner, that grew into an intimacy which continued till the last sickness of this gay and wealthy man. When the wife of this worldling was apprised that her husband could live but a short time, she was much alarmed for his salvation, and tenderly inquired if she should not call in their minister to converse and pray with him. He feelingly replied, "No, my dear, he is not the man for me to see now. He was my companion, as you know, in worldly sports and pleasure-seeking; he loved good dinners and a jolly time. I then enjoyed his society, and found him a pleasant companion. But I see now that I never had any real confidence in the efficacy of his prayers. I am now a dying man, and need the instruction and prayers of somebody that can prevail with God. We have been much together; but our pastor has never been in serious earnest with me about the salvation of my soul, and he is not the man to help me now." The wife was greatly affected, and said, "What shall I do then?" He replied, "My coachman, Tom, is a pious man. I have often overheard him pray when about the barn or stables, and his prayers have always struck me as being sincere and earnest. I never heard any foolishness from him. He has always been honest and earnest as a Christian man. Call him." Tom was called, and came within the door, dropping his hat, and looking tenderly and compassionately at his dying master. The dying man put forth his hand, saying, "Come here, Tom. Take my hand. Tom, can you pray for your dying master?" Tom poured out his soul in earnest prayer. I cannot remember the name of this bishop, it was so long ago; but the story I well remember as an illustration of the mistake into which many professors and some ministers fall, supposing that we recommend religion to the unconverted by mingling with them in their pleasures and their running after amusements. I have seen many illustrations of this mistake.—Guide to Holiness.