every house in my parish once a week, taking
from twelve to twenty each day, when I sought to enlighten the people by
leaving Church tracts, and even wrote some myself; but they would not
do. I found that the Religious Tract Society's publications were more
acceptable. To my great disappointment, I discovered too, that
Evangelical sermons drew the people, while sacramental topics did not
interest them. So, in my ardent desire to reach and do them good, I
procured several volumes of Evangelical sermons, and copied them,
putting in sometimes a negative to their statements, to make them, as I
thought, right.

Now I began to see and feel that there was some good in preaching, and
used the pulpit intentionally, in order to communicate with my people,
carefully writing or compiling my sermons. But I must confess that I was
very nervous in my delivery, and frequently lost my place--sometimes
even myself; and this to the great confusion of the congregation.

I will tell how it pleased the Lord to deliver me from this bondage of
nervousness, and enable me to open my lips so as to plainly speak out my
meaning.

One day, a friend with whom I was staying was very late in coming down
to breakfast; so, while I was waiting, I employed myself in reading the
"Life of Bishop Shirley," of Sodor and Man. My eyes happened to fall on
a passage, describing a difficulty into which he fell by losing his
sermon on his way to a country church. When the prayers were over, and
the psalm was nearly sung, he put his hand into his pocket for his
manuscript, and, to his dismay, it was gone. There was no time to
continue his search; so he gave out a text, and preached, as he said, in
dependence upon God, and never wrote a sermon afterwards.

When my friend came to breakfast, he asked me what I had been doing all
the morning. I told him. "Ah!" he said, quietly. "Why do you not preach
in dependence upon God and go without a book like that good man? .... I
preach like that!" I said in amazement, terrified at the very thought.
"Yes." he answered, mischievously, "You. Who needs to depend upon God
for this more than you do?" Seeing that I was perturbed at his
suggestion, he went on teasing me all breakfast time, and at last said,
"Well, what is your decision? Do you mean to preach in future in
dependence upon God?" I said, "Yes; I have made up my mind to begin next
Sunday." Now it was his turn to be terrified, and he did all he could to
dissuade me, sayi