text:  What in truth was the vast but lowly looking building into which hundreds crowded with the dapper deacon at their head sabbath after sabbath--what but a temple sacred to vanity and excitement eloquence and perspiration! Which one individual taken at random from the concourse was not ready to declare that his business there that day was "to hear the dear good man " and nothing else? If you could lay bare--as thank Heaven you cannot--your fellow-creature's heart whither would you behold stealing away the adoration that in such a place in such a time is due to one alone--whither if not to Mr Clayton? But let this pass