As he proceeded to his peroration, he grew warmed with the broad and boundless subject before him, and his declamation became alike bold and beautiful.  All eyes were fixed upon him, and not a whisper from the still-murmuring woods which girded them in was perceptible to the senses of that pleased and listening assembly.  The services of the morning were closed by a paraphrase, in part, of the psalm from which his discourse had been drawn; and as this performance, in its present shape, is not to be found, we believe, in any of the books devoted to such purposes, it is but fair to conclude that the old man—­not unwilling, in his profession, to employ every engine for the removal of all stubbornness from the hearts of those he addressed—­sometimes invoked Poetry to smile upon his devotions, and wing his aspirations for the desired flight.  It was sung by the congregation, in like manner with the former—­the preacher reading two lines at a time, after having first gone through the perusal aloud of the piece entire.  With the recognised privilege of the romancer, who is supposed to have a wizard control over men, events, and things alike, we are enabled to preserve the paraphrase here:—­

   “SHEPHERD’S HYMN”

   “Oh, when I rove the desert waste, and ’neath the hot sun pant,
    The Lord shall be my shepherd then—­he will not let me want—­
    He’ll lead me where the pastures are of soft and shady green,
    And where the gentle waters rove the quiet hills between.

   “And when the savage shall pursue, and in his grasp I sink,
    He will prepare the feast for me, and bring the cooling drink—­
    And save me harmless from his hands, and strengthen me in toil,
    And bless my home and cottage-lands, and crown my head with oil.

   “With such a Shepherd to protect—­to guide and guard me still,
    And bless my heart with every good, and keep from every ill—­
    Surely I shall not turn aside, and scorn his kindly care,
    But keep the path he points me out, and dwell for ever there.”

The service had not yet been concluded—­the last parting offices of prayer and benediction had yet to be performed—­when a boy, about fourteen years of age, rushed precipitately into the assembly.  His clothes were torn and bloody, and he was smeared with dirt from head to foot.  He spoke, but his words were half intelligible only, and comprehended by but one or two of the persons around him.  Munro immediately rose and carried him out.  He was followed by Rivers, who had been sitting beside him.

The interruption silenced everything like prayer; there was no further attention for the preacher; and accordingly a most admired disorder overspread the audience.  One after another rose and left the area, and those not the first to withdraw followed in rapid succession; until, under the influence of that wild stimulant, curiosity, the preacher soon found himself utterly unattended, except by the female portion of his auditory.  These, too, or rather the main body of them at least, were now only present in a purely physical sense; for, with the true characteristic of the sex, their minds were busily employed in the wilderness of reflection which this movement among the men had necessarily inspired.