Their friend, the curate, was very excited and angry about this, and did not quite know who to blame.  He said that he would write to the Bishop and tell him what was going on; and I believe he did not fail to carry out his intention.  As there were many who, from various causes, were unable to go four miles to an evening service, I managed to secure the Town Hall for a course of lectures on the “Pilgrim’s Progress.”  The curate came to the first, and, after hearing the lecture, stood up to speak, and gave went to his feelings by saying a great many very angry things.  The people were so indignant, that I could scarcely restrain them from laying hands on him to turn him out.

Some of the old forms and seats in the Town Hall (which was not accustomed to be so crowded) broke down with the weight of people.  The vicar’s daughter suggested that most likely they should hear next that “the forms and seats were converted, for she had been told already that they were broken down.”  This little straw will show which way the wind blew in that quarter, and what was the drift of this lady’s mind.

My friend with whom I was staying was evidently much perplexed, and found himself let in for far more than he had calculated when he invited me.  He certainly would never have asked me had he foreseen such an upset as there was everywhere, especially in the town in which he lived, and the country parish of which he was vicar.

At last he made up his mind to take me with him to consult a clerical neighbour, upon whose judgment he greatly relied.  On our way a sudden thought of misgiving came over him; he all at once turned to me and said.  “I say, my friend, I’ll be done with you altogether if you say Mr. ——­ is not converted!”

“Then,” I replied, “you may be sure I will not say it.”

“But suppose you think so?”

“Well, I must confess I think so already, and not without good reason (at least, to my mind), for he has taken no interest whatever in this remarkable work of God, nor has he shown the least sympathy in the spiritual welfare of many of his parishioners, who have received blessing at the meetings.  His High Church neighbour, who does not profess to be converted, could not help coming over to ask about it, while your friend has never been near, nor even sent to make inquiry.  Besides this, one of his own people told me that he was much put out, and very angry with you for asking me.”

“Ah,” said my friend, “we are not all revivalists like you, remember.”

“Well,” I said, “let me hope you are a deal better than I am.”

He seemed very uneasy at taking me on after this conversation; but as he had written to say we were coming, he thought we must go forward.  In order to ease his mind, I made an agreement with him that during luncheon I would tell about the conversion of one of Mr. —­’s parishioners, and said, “While I do so, you watch his face.  If he is at all interested, I will conclude that I am wrong, and that he is converted; but if he is not, I will leave you to judge for yourself.  I must say, I cannot understand a converted man not interested in the conversion of others, even if it does nothing more than remind him of his own.”