The wisdom of the serpent is seen in capturing the wife first; but still I am sure in this case that the serpent's wisdom was outwisdomed, for her persecution made her husband pray and work all the more earnestly.

People in these days did not regard "missions" so complacently as they do now. The very idea of preaching night after night, not for some Missionary Society, or for collections, but simply for the conversion of souls and the salvation of sinners, seemed to cast a slur upon ordinary preachers, as if they did not aim at such a thing; and upon people generally, as if we meant to imply that they needed it. Most certainly they did.

I believe ordinary preachers in the churches of that neighbourhood did not expect conversions; and most of the people were unconverted. I could not help telling them so, which only roused their wrath so much the more.

From this place I returned home; for my prolonged absence, I found, was likely to bring me into trouble. Other clergymen might go away for months, travelling or salmon fishing; but if I was absent for a few weeks, I was supposed to be neglecting my parish. On my return, I had much to tell, and did not expect to be invited out again in a hurry; for very few clergymen would willingly desire to be drawn into such a whirlwind of storm and trouble, as my visits usually involved.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A Mission in Staffordshire.

1854.

HE work at Baldhu, which had been going on almost incessantly for three years, was now beginning to flag; that is to say, there was not

that ardent and eager attendance at the services and meetings, to which we had been accustomed in the revival time. We had had occasional lulls like this before, but they did not last more than a few weeks; and then the "swallows" returned, and the bright hot summer of work came again with its loud songs and pleasant fruits. This dulness was continuing longer than usual; the crowded congregations were falling off; strangers did not come from a distance; and people at home were not so lively. However, the classes were continued, as also the services at the church, and the number of communicants did not decrease. Still any one could see that the revival was over. It was rather discouraging to me, and a cause of triumph to some outsiders; but we were occasionally cheered by work amongst visitors, and with sick-bed cases.

The majority of the people were complacently waiting for another tide of revival; this was their custom, but it sat

very uneasily upon me. I did not like it, nor agree to it; but at that time I knew not what else to do, but wait as others did. I said that we looked like vessels which had come so far up the river with the tide; and now that it had turned we were stranded and fast in the mud. Sometimes I changed the figure to one not so ignoble, and likened ourselves to the stately vessels anchored in Falmouth harbour, which were there because the wind was contrary. We were wind-bound too, and dependent on circumstances; but my idea of true religion was that we ought not to be like this. I rather took for our type the great steamers which are propelled by powerful engines, and come in and go out, and proceed on their voyage without regard to wind or tide. We ought to be constrained, I said, from within by the love of God, and thus be enabled to show the power of grace by riding over all obstacles and triumphing in the midst of discouragements. "He giveth songs in the night." Any bird can sing in the sunshine.

The self-restraint and self-control I had exercised in my churchy days, and which I supposed was derived from sacraments, I found wanting in my new work. We required something with authority, such as church and priest supply. I could not, however, conscientiously go back to that legal system, nor did I think there was any need, for I was sure there was something somewhere to be had, which should and would supply our want, if I could but discover it. It appeared to me that my people, without this, were subject to impulse, and consequently in bondage to their feelings.

In this time of lull I found that the steadfastness of some was shaken; but I had known others, who had gone further back than these, return at a revival time with new vigour. In this way, some of the Cornish people professed to be converted scores of times.

While ruminating on these things and praying over

THE BISHOP'S ADVICE.

203

them, I was surprised by receiving a letter pressing me very much to come at once and preach in a parish in Staffordshire, near Birmingham. Mr. Aitken had been on a mission in the north, and on his return had stopped a night at this place, and preached one of his alarming and awakening sermons. The effect was so great that the people, together with their clergyman (a curate in sole charge) were in much trouble and anxiety about their souls; there was a gloom hanging over them, as if they had been sentenced to some dreadful doom, and did not know what to do, or how to avert it.

It is a good thing to wound, but it should be with the object of making whole; it is a blessed thing to show sinners their lost condition, but only for the purpose of getting them to lay hold of the great salvation which is provided for such.

In his perplexity the curate went to see the Bishop (Lonsdale) of Lichfield. When his lordship had ascertained the cause of the trouble, he took up a pamphlet which was lying on the table, and said, “If you cannot get Mr. Aitken back, send for this gentleman, and pay his expenses." "This gentleman," meant the author of the pamphlet, which his lordship held in his hand, namely, myself; "his name and address are here," said the Bishop; "take the book and read it carefully; he seems to have both knowledge and experience in such matters."

I was written to forthwith, and the letter urged me to 66 come at once." In compliance, I started off that night, and reaching the place on Saturday afternoon, opened a mission the same evening without further notice. On Sunday I preached three times, and went to the schoolroom for the after-meeting. There we had a scene which, for noise and confusion, was quite Cornish. Men and women cried aloud for mercy, while some believers who

were there shouted for joy. The curate in charge was completely bewildered, but felt he could do nothing; and seeing, as he remarked, that I appeared to understand it all, and know what I was about, he thought he had better remain still, till the noisy meeting was over. That same night, before he retired, he gave his heart to God.

The work went on in this place with the force as of an explosion; just as if hungry desires had been pent up a long time, and now they had vent and opportunity to be satisfied. The church was crowded every day, even in the week; and we were kept in the schoolroom night after night till twelve and one o'clock.

The town was a dark, smoky, sulphury place, and the air filled with exhalations and iron filings from the various works. It was a dreadful atmosphere, and everything was black and dirty; the red fires from the furnaces around glared all night long, and presented an awful appearance. To come from the pure air and beautiful scenery of Cornwall into such a place as this, was most trying and uncomfortable; but the reward was great. The work was deeply interesting, and scores of men and women of all classes, besides five clergymen, professed to be converted that week.

The devil did not leave us alone; he was very angry, and raised up a great opposition. The rector of the old church, who used to be most benevolent and smiling, suddenly changed, and made it his business to call on the curate in charge of the church, to tell him that he was quite sure that his friend the vicar (who was away at the time in ill health) would never have sanctioned this excitement. The curate said that the Bishop had bid him invite Mr. Haslam, and that he had done so, not knowing anything further about me or my work. The rector went off to write to the Bishop forthwith, and in the meantime ordered