cent of the
hawthorn, it seems to me that the flood-gates open without you having
anything to do with it. When I was a little chap in the Lock Chapel
choir, before the evil days came, that tune was my favourite; and when
I heard it suddenly come welling up out of the depths of the forest,
my heart just stood still for a moment, and then the tears came. Queer
idea, perhaps, to some people; but I do not know when I enjoyed myself
so much as I did just then, except when a boy of sixteen home from a
voyage, and strolling along the Knightsbridge Road, I "happened" into
the Albert Hall. I did not in the least know what was coming; the
notices on the bills did not mean anything to me; but I paid my
shilling, and went up into the gallery. I had hardly edged myself into
a corner by the refreshment-stall, when a great breaker of sound
caught me, hurled me out of time, thought, and sense in one intolerable
ecstasy--"For unto us a Child is born; unto us a Son is given"--again
and again--billows and billows of glory. I gasped for breath, shook like
one in an ague fit; the tears ran down in a continuous stream; while
people stared amazed at me, thinking, I suppose, that I was another
drunken sailor. Well, I was drunk, helplessly intoxicated, but not
with drink, with something Divine, untellable, which, coming upon me
unprepared, simply swept me away with it into a heaven of delight, to
which only tears could testify.

But I am in the bush, whimpering over the tones of "Hollingside." As
soon as I had pulled myself together a bit, we went on again in the
direction of the sound, Presently we came to a large clearing, in the
middle of which stood a neat wooden, pandanus-thatched church. There
were no doors or windows to it, just a roof supported upon posts, but a
wide verandah ran all round, upon the edge of which we seated ourselves;
for the place was full--full to suffocation, every soul within miles,
I should think, being there. No white man was present, but the service,
which was a sort of prayer-meeting, went with a swing and go that
was wonderful to see. There was no perfunctory worship here; no one
languidly enduring it because it was "the right sort of thing to show up
at, you know;" but all were in earnest, terribly in earnest. When they
sang, it behoved us to get away to a little distance, for the vigour of
the voices, unless mellowed by distance, made the music decidedly harsh.
Every one was dressed in European clothing--the w