f the very old men were
accommodated with logs of wood which had been brought out for seats,
and the very roughest of the young men remained respectfully silent.

Some heavy clouds came over the hills and discharged a sprinkle of water
upon the group. A big man stepped out and spoke to the preacher. He was
one of the most powerful fellows on the coast, and had been a great
ruffian in his time. It was said that he once killed a man with a single
blow. He offered the preacher the use of his house, and presently all
the villagers were packed in the great sanded kitchen, and a rude
service was carried on under cover.

The work thus begun went on for years. Sometimes a little spasmodic
emotion was shown in the meetings by women who were hysterically
inclined, but in general the services were free from excitement and
vulgarity. The little tavern had to be shut up, for the men stopped
drinking.

The fishermen saw the preacher roughly dressed during the week and doing
work as hard as their own, yet the influence he gained over them was so
strong that it came to be regarded as a very discreditable thing for any
man or woman to stay away from the evening services.

By-and-by the fisherman who had been the worst ruffian in the village
used to take a turn at the preaching. His remarks would have been very
laughable to outsiders, but as he was a man of strong character and
genuine feeling, his hearers took him quite seriously.

As the preacher grew old he was regarded with extreme reverence,
especially by the women, whose lives had often been very hard before the
Revival.

One night the big man, who had first offered the preacher shelter, was
sitting in the kitchen when a neighbour came in. The new-comer seemed
flurried, and said--"I am going to hit you very hard. The old man's
dying. He says he wants to see you; so come you away with me." The giant
didn't put his hat on, and did not even take off his sea-boots. He ran
out at once, and strode heavily over the moor. The old man was waiting
for him, but the end was very near.

The preacher made a pathetic little joke. He said, "You once gave me
shelter. Maybe I'll have to get one of the many mansions ready for you."
Soon after that the ebb tide began to run out, and the preacher died in
the big fisherman's arms.

When the day of the funeral came, the men would not allow the corpse to
be put in the hearse; they took turns to carry the coffin over the moor,
and the women and c