What with excessive work and bad air, by Friday evening I was quite exhausted.  I came out of the pulpit to the vestry, and remembering that Cornish miners, in order to recover themselves after climbing ladders, often found it necessary to lie down flat on the ground, I thought I would try the same plan for a few moments while the people were going out to the schoolroom.  I did so; and while I was in this position a clergyman came in and asked me if I was ill.  “No,” I said, “I am only resting for a short time.”

“Very well,” he said, “rest on; but listen to me.  The Bishop has sent me here to see and hear you, and this is my report to his lordship.”  Opening out a paper he held in his hand, he read:  “St. James’s crammed to excess with a most orderly and devotional congregation; their attention to the sermon marked and riveted; sermon from St. Luke xv, verse 2, ‘This Man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.’  The exposition of chapter most vivid and instructive; never heard better, or so good; the application fervent and pointed; altogether, most edifying service.”

“There, that is my report, so you need not be afraid of anything you hear.  I will tell the Bishop all about it.  Thank you very much for what I have heard.  God bless you.  Good-night!”

“Oh,” I said, springing up from the ground, “do not go yet! the best part is to come.  You have only seen me let down the nets; come now and see them pulled up.”  “What is that?” he said, “Where am I to come?” “To the schoolroom,” I replied, divesting myself of my gown and bands, and putting on my coat with all haste.  “Come with me!”

He seemed a little afraid, and asked many questions.  When we reached the place we could scarcely get in, and the noise certainly was tremendous.

“What is all this confusion about?” he asked.  “I think I had better not go in to-night.”

“Oh, come in, come in!” I said; “do not fear.”  But somehow he slipped off in the dark, and I did not see him again.  When I entered, almost the first thing I noticed was the two curates of the parish church, taking notes.  However, I did not heed them, or ask to see what they had written; for I would always rather have real work, though with a noise, than orderly, respectable stillness, and spiritual death.

On Saturday I rested, but was very unwell all day, and did not know how I should be able to work on Sunday.  When the morning arrived, my strength and voice were gone; it was impossible to preach.  The people met together and had a prayer meeting before the service, asking the Lord to restore me.  The curate was so much cheered, that he came to me and said, “If you only get up and try, we feel sure you will be able to preach.”  I got up, but had to go to bed again, for I was very ill.

Just before eleven o’clock a visitor arrived, a very queer-looking little man, in a black suit of Quaker cut, and a college cap without a tassel, with the corners of the square board rounded off.  Standing by my bed-side in this costume, he said that he was a convert of Mr. Aitken’s, and had come all the way from Birmingham to hear me.  “Moreover,” he said, “I am a herbal doctor.  Please let me feel your pulse.”