aying, "I was one of the instigators of
the opposition to your work here; but the very first evening you spoke
in the school-room I was outside listening,' and was shot through the
window. The word hit my heart like a hammer, without breaking a pane of
glass. Scores and scores of people will bless God to all eternity that
you ever came amongst us."

The revival in this proverbially wicked place, created such a stir that
the newspapers took it up, and thought for once that I "was in the right
place, and doing a good work!" The member for the borough sent me
twenty-five pounds, "begging my acceptance of the trifle." Who asked
him, or why he sent it, I do not know; but the Lord knew that we needed
help. More than this, the vicar of the adjoining parish, who used to be
very friendly with me in my unconverted days, but who had declared his
opposition pretty freely since that time, sent me a letter one Sunday
morning by private hand, to be delivered to me personally. This I duly
received, but expecting that it was one of his usual letters, and
knowing that I had visited some persons in his parish who were anxious,
I thought I would not open it until Monday, and so placed it on the
mantelpiece. A friend who happened to come in, noticing it there, said,
"I see you have a letter from the Prebendary; I dare say he is angry
with you."

"I suppose he is," I said; "but it will keep till tomorrow; and I do not
care to be troubled with his thoughts to-day."

"Oh, do let me open it," said my visitor; "I shall not be here
to-morrow, and I should like to hear what he has to say."

With my consent he opened it and read, "Dear old Haslam, you have done
more good in that part of my parish where you are working, in a few
weeks, than I have done for years. I enclose you a cheque for the amount
of tithes coming from there. The Lord bless you more and more! Pray for
me!"

It was a cheque for thirty-seven pounds. The next morning I went over to
see my old friend newly-found, and to thank him in person for his
generous gift. Poor man, I found him very low and depressed, and quite
ready and willing that I should talk and pray with him. I sincerely hope
that he became changed before I left the neighbourhood, but I never
heard that he declared himself.

By this time, while I was still in Tregoney, Mr. Aitken had found his
way to the village where my family were lodging, and he was preaching at
the church with his usual power and effect. Night