ng should deter him from carrying out the work
that God had sent him to do. The circumstances were so discouraging
that no ordinary man would have persisted in going on with it. He was
scoffed at, hooted, and at times both men and women were so enraged
that they threatened a personal attack; but there was something about
his physical appearance and his firm though gentle manner that cowed
even the most violent of those who were opposed to his religious
teaching. They felt he would stand no nonsense of that kind. He had not
been long in the locality before a spirit of strong revival came over
the place. Some of the worst men and women in the countryside were
converted, and ardently tried to influence others for good. They were
raw, crude, and uneducated, but there was a power behind them that made
their influence irresistible. People came from far and near to hear
this strange gospel of pity preached and to witness such an unexpected
revolution. Strong men and women were smitten with its force, until any
one of them who had shown ill-natured and violent dislike to even
listening to the simple message of the lay preacher, eagerly threw
their doors open to him in order that he might hold services in their
homes. He urged them to attend the parish church in the mornings, as
there was only one service on the Sundays, and none during the week.
Most of his own family did this, while the others went with him to the
chapels he was appointed to preach at. He knew the squire and the
parson were feeling full of wrath, and that they believed him to be a
mistaken instrument for evil, and that the whole parish was thrown into
revolt by his wild advocacy of a sacrilegious creed, and that it must
be put a stop to or he would have to leave the village.

When Burnside was having a stroll one morning with a little fellow of
four years old, who was chattering to him about his services, Squire
Humbert came upon them, stopped, and snappishly asked what he meant by
disturbing the whole district with such ranting nonsense.

"I tell you," said he, "it must cease, or I will ask you to leave the
place."

Burnside withered him with a gaze that betrayed his feelings, and
began:

"Sir, you may ask me to leave the village, but you may not ask me to
cease serving my God in the way I choose. Now, sir, listen. You have
been accustomed to talk to your village servants in a way that is
insufferable. I am not one of them, and if I were I should resent y