re a million of people who do not go
anywhere on a Sunday in London. Suppose each one of you now resolve to
go to the east of London and bring the people to church. Suppose you
were to be street preachers. I don't see why you should not. I don't
see why some of you laymen should not come and preach in this pulpit. Do
you want your commission? Here it is, 'Let him that heareth say Come,'
and if you did this you would accomplish more good between now and
Christmas than would be done by the Society for the Employment of
Additional Curates if they worked till Doomsday." Well, there is a
freshness, and a vigour, and a common sense about this style of remark
one does not often meet in the pulpit. And the service itself, too, was
the perfection of common sense. It began in the evening at eight. It
was over by nine. It began with a short prayer and a hymn which did not
take ten minutes, and it ended the same way. There was a service after
to which many stopped, but short as the service was I fear the speaker
had overtaxed himself. He speaks from the chest deeply, hoarsely, and
his throat gave him a good deal of trouble at the end. Sometimes in his
homely Saxon and ironical way he reminds you of George Dawson, but then
George Dawson never stirred the depths. The only man I have ever seen
equally effective was J. B. Gough, but then Gough was no orator, and
could only act one character, while Mr. Body is a master of powerful
language, and words never fail. He can read and sing also as well as he
can preach, and while I write I seem to see him as he stood giving out
the hymn after the sermon, as a general might marshal his troops--

"Onward, Christian soldiers!
Marching on to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before."

A SUNDAY WITH THE LUNATICS.

One of the earliest of the Gospel stories is that which tells how the
Saviour healed the man possessed with devils. It is only of late that we
have learned to imitate His example. For hundreds of years society has
gone on torturing the mad, hardening the hardened, depraving the
depraved. We are now retracing our steps; we are atoning nobly for sins
of omission and commission on the part of our ancestors. It would do
good to some of the noisy poor who waste their time in low pot-houses
talking of their rights, when all that a man has a right to is what he
can earn, to look over such places as Hanwell and Colney Hatch, where
pauper lun