table, and let him preach in a black gown.  These were all matters of indifference to me now, so I readily acceded to his wishes.  Having completed his arrangements, we spent a very pleasant evening together, talking over the work in the place, and then went to the weekly prayer-meeting; but he took no part.  On Sunday morning the service was conducted at his request, in the usual manner, excepting that he stood away in the eastern corner of the north side of the table, “scrootching” away like a Papist, as the people described it.  They had been accustomed to see me stand at the western or outside corner of the north side.  He was much amused at this criticism.

Then he went into the vestry, having asked for an interlude on the organ before the last verse of the Psalms (for we sang the metrical version in those days), and while this was being played he came sailing out again, and swept up the steps into the pulpit.  He gave us an excellent sermon—­preached, as the Cornish people say, “to a form,” that is with a manuscript before him; though he did not look at it much.  He showed it to me afterwards; it certainly was a curious thing, done in cyphers and hieroglyphics of his own; again and again there appeared a figure with two horns and a tail; this, he told me, stood for Satan; there were also many other striking signs.  He preached with far more animation than was his wont, and towards the end of his sermon seemed to forget his manuscript altogether, and leaned over the front of the pulpit, gesticulating with his hands, and looking at the people.  They got very excited, and followed every sentence with some response, till he became excited also.  When he came down from the pulpit, he said that he had never preached with such help before; he had quite enjoyed his own sermon, and that now he thought he understood the secret of what I called being “converted.”

He came in the afternoon to the catechising of the children, and expressed himself very pleased with their behaviour, and readiness in answering questions.  In the evening, he sat in a part of the church where he could see the congregation, and the preacher, and so make his desired observations.  The service was, perhaps, a little more animated than usual, and the sermon may have been the same.  After this was over, he went with me into the school-room, where he heard the people pray, and also thank God for the morning sermon.  Several souls were brought in that evening.

About ten o’clock at night we returned home, when my friend declared he had never known a day like this in all his ministry, and never heard of such things as he had seen.  “Your congregation,” he said, “is like the waves of the sea, and mine like a glassy mill-pond.  Now I must have you come and preach in my church.  I wonder what the effect will be.”

I agreed, and we fixed upon the second Sunday, as he wanted a week to announce my coming.