and art in a hundred forms, but for Eric there was only his violin.

It stood, to him, for all the manifestations of art; it was his
only bridge into the kingdom of the soul.

It was to Eric Hermannson that the evangelist directed his
impassioned pleading that night.

"Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? Is there a Saul here
tonight who has stopped his ears to that gentle pleading, who has
thrust a spear into that bleeding side? Think of it, my brother;
you are offered this wonderful love and you prefer the worm that
dieth not and the fire which will not be quenched. What right have
you to lose one of God's precious souls? Saul, Saul, why
persecutest thou me?"

A great joy dawned in Asa Skinner's pale face, for he saw that
Eric Hermannson was swaying to and fro in his seat. The minister
fell upon his knees and threw his long arms up over his head.

"O my brothers! I feel it coming, the blessing we have prayed
for. I tell you the Spirit is coming! just a little more prayer,
brothers, a little more zeal, and he will be here. I can feel his
cooling wing upon my brow. Glory be to God forever and ever,
amen!"

The whole congregation groaned under the pressure of this
spiritual panic. Shouts and hallelujahs went up from every lip.
Another figure fell prostrate upon the floor. From the mourners'
bench rose a chant of terror and rapture: