There was a great splash, and a tall young woman was perceived to be in the baptismal pool, her arms waving above her head, and her figure held upright in the water by the inflation of the air underneath her crinoline which was blown out like a bladder, as in some extravagant old fashion-plate.  Whether her feet touched the bottom of the font I cannot say, but I suppose they did so.  An indescribable turmoil of shrieks and cries followed on this extraordinary apparition.  A great many people excitedly called upon other people to be calm, and an instance was given of the remark of James Smith that

  He who, in quest of quiet, ‘Silence!’ hoots
  Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes.

The young woman, in a more or less fainting condition, was presently removed from the water, and taken into the sort of tent which was prepared for candidates.  It was found that she herself had wished to be a candidate and had earnestly desired to be baptized, but that this had been forbidden by her parents.  On the supposition that she fell in by accident, a pious coincidence was detected in this affair; the Lord had pre-ordained that she should be baptized in spite of all opposition.  But my Father, in his shrewd way, doubted.  He pointed out to us, next morning, that, in the first place, she had not, in any sense, been baptized, as her head had not been immersed; and that, in the second place, she must have deliberately jumped in, since, had she stumbled and fallen forward, her hands and face would have struck the water, whereas they remained quite dry.  She belonged, however, to the neighbour congregation, and we had no responsibility to pursue the inquiry any further.

Decorum being again secured, Mr. S., with unimpaired dignity, proposed to the congregation a hymn, which was long enough to occupy them during the preparations for the actual baptism.  He then retired to the vestry, and I (for I was to be the first to testify) was led by Miss Marks and Mary Grace into the species of tent of which I have just spoken.  Its pale sides seemed to shake with the jubilant singing of the saints outside, while part of my clothing was removed and I was prepared for immersion.  A sudden cessation of the hymn warned us that to Minister was now ready, and we emerged into the glare of lights and faces to find Mr. S. already standing in the water up to his knees.  Feeling as small as one of our microscopical specimens, almost infinitesimally tiny as I descended into his Titanic arms, I was handed down the steps to him.  He was dressed in a kind of long surplice, underneath which—­as I could not, even in that moment, help observing—­the air gathered in long bubbles which he strove to flatten out.  The end of his noble beard he had tucked away; his shirt-sleeves were turned up at the wrist.