The power of the Lord overshadowed the place, and there was as usual a simultaneous melting of hearts all over the parish, and a running together of the people to hear the Word, and what is better to obey it.  Then followed a true Cornish revival with full manifestations, and Mr. Aitken came to preach.  The fire was burning and shining before; but when this mighty man stirred it, it rose to a tremendous height.  The excitement of the parson and people was intense, and hundreds of souls were added to the Church, who had been brought from the death of sin into the life of righteousness which all the previous preaching on Baptism and the Lord’s Supper had failed to produce.

CHAPTER 18

A Visit to Veryan, 1853.

Next, I will tell of a clergyman who was altogether different to the others I have mentioned.  He was one to whom I was much attached, although we were diametrically opposed to one another, especially in my Puseyite days.  He was Evangelical; I was High Church; consequently, we fell out more or less, at every meeting, though we never really quarrelled.  After my conversion I made sure this friend would sympathize with me; but I found to my disappointment he was in reality more opposed now than before, because I had become, as he called it, “a dissenter.”  He would scarcely speak to me, and said, he was not so sure of my conversion as I was, that he would give me seven years to prove it, and then pronounce.

I said, “You are an old bachelor, and know nothing about the treatment of babies; we do not put our babies out on the lawn for seven days before we decide whether they are born or not!”

He could not resist joining in the laugh against his inexperience in this respect, although he was not over-pleased.  With all his head-knowledge of Gospel truth, he had not seen anything of the work of the Spirit, and moreover, like too many others, could not distinguish between death and grave-clothes.  Because I announced some sacramental views after my conversion, he fancied that I must be dead still; whereas these were only the grave-clothes in which I used to be wrapped.  We shall speak more of this hereafter.

One day, he came to me and said, “I have been thinking for some time that I should like to come to your church one Sunday, and see your work.”

I agreed to this with thanks, as the first sign of sympathy I had found in him, and said, “Shall I go and take your services in exchange?”

“Oh no, certainly not; I wish you to be present in your own church.  I will preach in the morning; and in the evening I will be there to see and hear you.”  We soon fixed upon the day.  He came to dinner with us the previous Saturday, but before he would sit down he must needs go into the Church, and adjust the height of the pulpit, and see that all other things were to his taste.  He asked me if I would remove the candlesticks from the communion