and on one of
the iron supports of the gallery. As the sermon proceeded he became
deeply interested, and step by step drew nearer to the pulpit. He seemed
to be altogether unconscious that he was not dressed for a Sunday
congregation, or that he was the object of any special notice. After the
sermon he knelt down in the aisle, and there he remained. I was called
out of the vestry to go to him, but could not get him to say a word. I
prayed by his side, and after some time he groaned out an "Amen," then
he got up, and went towards the door. I followed him, and saw that
instead of going along the path, he made across the graves in the
churchyard, to a particular one; and then he threw himself on the
ground, in vehement and convulsive emotion. He said something about
"Edward," but we could not distinguish what it was. The sexton said that
this was his son Edward's grave. Poor man! he was in great sorrow; but
he kept it all to himself. He then went home, and shut himself up in his
own room. His daughter could do nothing with him in his distress. We
called several times to see him in the course of the evening, but in
vain.

The next morning I called again, when his daughter told me that he had
gone out early, and had not returned to breakfast. She appeared to be in
a good deal of trouble, and said she had been to his mine to inquire for
him, but that he was not there. All day long we searched for him. Some
looked in the woods, half-expecting they might find his body on the
ground, or hanging from a tree; while others inquired in every
direction, with increasing anxiety, till the evening. Then, as we were
returning home in despair and disappointment, whom should we see in the
green lane between the vicarage and the church, but our friend. He was
looking into the shrubs as if watching something; and when we came up to
him, he turned to us with a radiant smile, and said, "The Lord is
'gude.'"

I said, "You are right, He is so."

"Yes, I am right, all right! thank God! Think of that! He saved me this
day!"

"Are you coming to church to-night?"

"Oh yes, certainly I will be there."

"But," I said, "have you been home yet?"

"Oh yes, sir, thank you; my girl knows all about me."

That man was so manifestly changed, and so filled with the Spirit, that
his old worldly companions were afraid of him. The publican of the inn
he used to frequent was particularly so, and said he was frightened to
be in the same room with him.