hough with a noise,
than orderly, respectable stillness, and spiritual death.

On Saturday I rested, but was very unwell all day, and did not know how
I should be able to work on Sunday. When the morning arrived, my
strength and voice were gone; it was impossible to preach. The people
met together and had a prayer meeting before the service, asking the
Lord to restore me. The curate was so much cheered, that he came to me
and said, "If you only get up and try, we feel sure you will be able to
preach." I got up, but had to go to bed again, for I was very ill.

Just before eleven o'clock a visitor arrived, a very queer-looking
little man, in a black suit of Quaker cut, and a college cap without a
tassel, with the corners of the square board rounded off. Standing by my
bed-side in this costume, he said that he was a convert of Mr. Aitken's,
and had come all the way from Birmingham to hear me. "Moreover," he
said, "I am a herbal doctor. Please let me feel your pulse."

He did so, and looking grave, sounded my lungs, put his ear to my chest
and then asked, "What is the matter with your left lung?"

I replied, "I don't know. Three doctors told me, more than fourteen
years ago, that it was all gone." "Well," he said, "you stay quietly in
bed till I come again at half-past eleven."

When he returned, he bade me get up and dress, and then gave me a cupful
of something very hot with cayenne, at the same time telling me that I
should be quite strong enough to preach by twelve o'clock.

So I was. I preached that morning, and again in the afternoon; after
that I went to bed till six o'clock, when I took another dose, and in
the strength of it preached a long, loud sermon to a crowded
congregation; after which I attended the after-meeting, and was there
till twelve o'clock at night. I then set off to the station, accompanied
by at least two hundred people, and left by the one o'clock train for
Birmingham, to the house of my new friend the herbal doctor. He nursed
me like a mother, and let me go on my way home to Cornwall the next day.

I never heard any more of the rector of the parish, or of the Bishop,
but was frequently cheered by letters saying that the work thus begun
was going on week after week in the same place. Some years after, when I
was passing, I stopped there for a few days, and gave them "a lift," as
they called it; and I then saw with half a glance that they had become
practised workers--that both clergymen and