in earnest, and at last got into a which
the Cornish call "wrastling in prayer." In this condition he was quite
past heeding any one's presence. I helped and guided him to the
Crucified and then he found peace, and began to praise. On coming to
himself, he recognized my voice. "You are the very man," he cried, and
putting great heavy arms round my neck, he nearly strangled me! The
vicar (who I did not know was in the room), here interposed, and got my
release.

"Here you are," he said, "at it again, and they are getting worse and
worse in the barn--what ever is to be done? We cannot go home through
this rain, and the carriage will not be here for at least an hour. What
am I to do?"

I said, "Let us go then to the barn for a short time, just to see how
they are getting on."

After some hesitation, he went in with me, and found the people praying
and rejoicing; but, as I expected, far too much absorbed to observe our
presence.

After a time, some of the lads noticed me and cried out lustily, "The
parson is here! The parson is here!" and in a moment we were surrounded
by a number of happy people, who were so demonstrative that they made
the poor vicar tremble (as he told me afterwards) with a strange fear.

They said, "You will come again to-morrow?"

"Certainly," I replied.

"Oh, no," rejoined the vicar; "on no account. One night of this work is
quite enough--more than enough."

I was very loth to give up; but a man said, "Never mind, we will carry
it on. This revival will not stop for a week or fortnight, for certain."

This was terrifying news for the vicar, who turned, and looking at me
with astonishment, said, reproachfully, "How did you do it?"

I replied, "This is not my work. I did not begin it, neither can I stop
it; nor would I, even if I could. I dare not. I have known persons
brought under heavy judgment for hindering a revival. Take my advice,
and do not hinder this. Let these men go on; they know what they are
about."

Soon the carriage came, and we returned to the vicarage; but the dear
man was much put out, and evidently very sorry that he had asked me to
come and disturb his mill-pond. Indeed, he said as much; so I concluded
my visit the next morning.

Going through the village, I heard that the meeting on the previous
evening was continued until two o'clock in the morning, and that it was
announced there would be one in the chapel that evening. As the Church
refused the blessing, there wer