A company in which elderly females [were] a conspicuous feature partly filled Exposition hall last evening to hear the experience of one who termed himself a reformed gambler who had been brought to see the error of his ways through the Gospel army.

On a platform which contained a cabinet organ, a tambourine and a big bass drum, the latter bearing the inscription, "Cedar Hill Drum Corps," there were grouped an elderly woman, attired in a severely simple black suit, with a poke bonnet and a leather belt, a red-whiskered individual whose black clothing was plentifully gold-striped, and a stout, husky, red-faced fellow with close-cropped hair and moustache. His mission seemed to be to evoke the greatest amount of noise from the bass drum, and he wielded the drumsticks with such good effect that the padding protruded in several places.

This latter individual was the self-styled reformed gambler, but he looked more like some good-humored farmer than one who made a profession of dealing a brace game of faro, throwing monte or picking up flats for skinning purposes. He announced in the outset that he had been crooked and had led a checkered life, but owing to the smallness of the audience he would refrain from giving his experiences as an emissary of satan until another evening and more propitious occasion. Meanwhile the red-whiskered man encouraged the speaker with a few grunted amens and hallelujahs and the woman in black jingled the tamborine as an invigorator to the ex-gambler, but he made a poor effort and finally subsided amid a chorus of "Go on, brother," fervently ejaculated by the elderly females in the red painted chairs in the hall.