“Oh,” he said, “are you there, neighbour?  Couldn’t yer get in?  Why, I mean the man what’s been speaking inside.”

“What did he say?”

“Why, said he, ‘the devil’s no fool!’ and of course he ain’t.  He has hooks in all his baits, and I have swallowed lots o’ them.  Oh, what shall I do?  What shall I do?”

Then I heard him shuffling to his knees, groaning and praying.  I sat still on the table, saying, “Amen! amen!” every now and then, to his prayer, till he became terribly in earnest, and at last got into a which the Cornish call “wrastling in prayer.”  In this condition he was quite past heeding any one’s presence.  I helped and guided him to the Crucified and then he found peace, and began to praise.  On coming to himself, he recognized my voice.  “You are the very man,” he cried, and putting great heavy arms round my neck, he nearly strangled me!  The vicar (who I did not know was in the room), here interposed, and got my release.

“Here you are,” he said, “at it again, and they are getting worse and worse in the barn—­what ever is to be done?  We cannot go home through this rain, and the carriage will not be here for at least an hour.  What am I to do?”

I said, “Let us go then to the barn for a short time, just to see how they are getting on.”

After some hesitation, he went in with me, and found the people praying and rejoicing; but, as I expected, far too much absorbed to observe our presence.

After a time, some of the lads noticed me and cried out lustily, “The parson is here!  The parson is here!” and in a moment we were surrounded by a number of happy people, who were so demonstrative that they made the poor vicar tremble (as he told me afterwards) with a strange fear.

They said, “You will come again to-morrow?”

“Certainly,” I replied.

“Oh, no,” rejoined the vicar; “on no account.  One night of this work is quite enough—­more than enough.”

I was very loth to give up; but a man said, “Never mind, we will carry it on.  This revival will not stop for a week or fortnight, for certain.”

This was terrifying news for the vicar, who turned, and looking at me with astonishment, said, reproachfully, “How did you do it?”

I replied, “This is not my work.  I did not begin it, neither can I stop it; nor would I, even if I could.  I dare not.  I have known persons brought under heavy judgment for hindering a revival.  Take my advice, and do not hinder this.  Let these men go on; they know what they are about.”

Soon the carriage came, and we returned to the vicarage; but the dear man was much put out, and evidently very sorry that he had asked me to come and disturb his mill-pond.  Indeed, he said as much; so I concluded my visit the next morning.

Going through the village, I heard that the meeting on the previous evening was continued until two o’clock in the morning, and that it was announced there would be one in the chapel that evening.  As the Church refused the blessing, there were others who were happy to receive it.