sermons were usually short, and very impressive.  A contemporary thus describes the effect of his preaching:  “The whole assembly seemed to be baptized together, and so covered with solemnity, that when the meeting broke up, no one wished to enter into conversation with another.”  He was particularly zealous against a paid ministry, and not unfrequently quoted the text, “Put me in the priest’s office, I pray thee, that I may eat a piece of bread.”  One of his most memorable discourses began with these words:  “The lawyers, the priests, and the doctors, these are the deceivers of men.”  He was so highly esteemed, that when he entered the court-house, as he occasionally did, to aid the poor or the oppressed in some way, it was not uncommon for judges and lawyers to rise spontaneously in token of respect.—­Isaac had great veneration for his character, and was much edified by his ministry.

Mary Ridgeway, a small, plain, uneducated woman, was likewise remarkably persuasive and penetrating in her style of preaching, which appeared to Isaac like pure inspiration.  Her exhortations took deep hold of his youthful feelings, and strongly influenced him to a religious life.

But more powerful than all other agencies was the preaching of William Savery.  He was a tanner by trade; remarked by all who knew him as a man who “walked humbly with his God.”  One night, a quantity of hides were stolen from his tannery, and he had reason to believe that the thief was a quarrelsome, drunken neighbor, whom I will call John Smith.  The next week, the following advertisement appeared in the County newspaper:  “Whoever stole a lot of hides on the fifth of the present month, is hereby informed that the owner has a sincere wish to be his friend.  If poverty tempted him to this false step, the owner will keep the whole transaction secret, and will gladly put him in the way of obtaining money by means more likely to bring him peace of mind.”  This singular advertisement attracted considerable attention; but the culprit alone knew whence the benevolent offer came.  When he read it, his heart melted within him, and he was filled with contrition for what he had done.  A few nights afterward, as the tanner’s family were about retiring to rest, they heard a timid knock, and when the door was opened, there stood John Smith with a load of hides on his shoulder.  Without looking up, he said, “I have brought these back, Mr. Savery.  Where shall I put them?” “Wait till I can light a lantern, and I will go to the barn with thee,” he replied.—­“Then perhaps thou wilt come in and tell me how this happened.  We will see what can be done for thee.”  As soon as they were gone out, his wife prepared some hot coffee, and placed pies and meat on the table.  When they returned from the barn, she said “Neighbor Smith, I thought some hot supper would be good for thee.”  He turned his back toward her and did not speak.  After leaning against the fire-place in silence for a moment, he said, in a choked voice,