the beginning of the sermon; for she gave me no chance of interesting her on Sundays—­going fast asleep the moment I stood up to preach.  I never got so far as that, however; and the only fact that showed me I had made any impression upon her, beyond the pleasure she always manifested when I appeared on the Monday, was, that, whereas all my linen had been very badly washed at first, a decided improvement took place after a while, beginning with my surplice and bands, and gradually extending itself to my shirts and handkerchiefs; till at last even Mrs Pearson was unable to find any fault with the poor old sleepy woman’s work.  For Mr Brownrigg, I am not sure that the sense of any one sentence I ever uttered, down to the day of his death, entered into his brain—­I dare not say his mind or heart.  With regard to him, and millions besides, I am more than happy to obey my Lord’s command, and not judge.

But it was not long either before my congregations began to improve, whatever might be the cause.  I could not help hoping that it was really because they liked to hear the Gospel, that is, the good news about Christ himself.  And I always made use of the knowledge I had of my individual hearers, to say what I thought would do them good.  Not that I ever preached at anybody; I only sought to explain the principles of things in which I knew action of some sort was demanded from them.  For I remembered how our Lord’s sermon against covetousness, with the parable of the rich man with the little barn, had for its occasion the request of a man that our Lord would interfere to make his brother share with him; which He declining to do, yet gave both brothers a lesson such as, if they wished to do what was right, would help them to see clearly what was the right thing to do in this and every such matter.  Clear the mind’s eye, by washing away the covetousness, and the whole nature would be full of light, and the right walk would speedily follow.

Before long, likewise, I was as sure of seeing the pale face of Thomas Weir perched, like that of a man beheaded for treason, upon the apex of the gablet of the old tomb, as I was of hearing the wonderful playing of that husky old organ, of which I have spoken once before.  I continued to pay him a visit every now and then; and I assure you, never was the attempt to be thoroughly honest towards a man better understood or more appreciated than my attempt was by the atheistical carpenter.  The man was no more an atheist than David was when he saw the wicked spreading like a green bay-tree, and was troubled at the sight.  He only wanted to see a God in whom he could trust.  And if I succeeded at all in making him hope that there might be such a God, it is to me one of the most precious seals of my ministry.