people. The scene resembled the one at Shotts, in Scotland, when five hundred persons professed conversion to Christ under the preaching of a sermon by John Livingston. It was similar to that at Llanidloes, Wales, when a thousand persons decided for Christ under one sermon preached by Michael Roberts. Or it resembled the time when twentyfive hundred persons were added to the churches as the result of one sermon preached by John Elias, the mighty Welsh preacher.

Evans was "a man the spell of whose name, when he came into a neighborhood, could wake up all the sleepy villages, and bid their inhabitants pour along up by the hills, and down by the valleys, expectant crowds watching his appearance with tears, and sometimes hailing him with shouts." "It must be said, his are very great sermons," says Rev. Paxton Hood, "the present writer is almost disposed to be bold enough to describe them, as the grandest Gospel sermons of the last hundred years." One biographer describes his manner while preaching as follows: "Christmas Evans, meantime, is pursuing his way, lost in his theme. Now his eye lights up, says one who knew him, like a brilliantly flashing star, his clear forehead expands, his form dilates in majestic dignity; and all that has gone before will be lost in the white-heat passion with which he prepares to sing of Paradise lost and Paradise regained.'

The anointing of the Holy Spirit was the great secret of Evans' power. Writing to a young minister, he says: "You will observe that some heavenly ornaments, and power from on high, are visible in many ministers when under the Divine irradiation, which you cannot approach to by merely imitating their artistic excellence, without resembling them in their spiritual taste, fervency, and zeal which Christ and His Spirit work in them.' This will

cause, not only your being like unto them in gracefulness of action, and propriety of elocution, but will also induce prayer for the anointing of the Holy One, which worketh mightily in the inward man. This is the mystery of effective preaching. We must be endued with power from on high." Someone said to Evans, "Mr. Evans, you have not studied Dr. Blair's Rhetoric." Evans, to whom Dr. Blair with his rules was always as dry as Gilboa, replied: "Why do you say so when you just now saw hundreds weeping under the sermon? That could not be, had I not first of all been influenced myself, which, you know, is the substance, and mystery, of all rules of speaking."

Evans collected much money for the building of churches, the Baptist churches of Anglesea being more than doubled under his ministry. In one place where he was raising money to build a chapel, the money came very slowly although the audiences were very large. There had been much sheep-stealing in the neighborhood, and Evans decided to use this fact to advantage in collecting money. He told the people that undoubtedly some of the sheepstealers must be present in the congregation, and he hoped that they would not throw any money into the collection. A big collection was taken. Those who did not have any money to give borrowed from their neighbors to put in the collection.

"Dear old Christmas," as he was familiarly called in his old age, finished his course with joy, and fell asleep in Christ July 23, 1838, with a song of victory on his lips.

LORENZO DOW

Some one has said that all Spirit-filled Christians appear peculiar or eccentric to the people of the world, because "the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God" (1 Cor. 2:14). This was especially true of Lorenzo Dow, the quaint but famous pioneer Methodist preacher, who, about the beginning of the nineteenth century, traveled about the world on foot and on horseback, preaching the Gospel to tens of thousands, and winning multitudes to Christ.

In his character Lorenzo Dow very much resembled John Bunyan, but he seems to have had a quiet vein of humor which was lacking in the latter. Like Bunyan he went astray with wicked boys in his youth, and learned many of their ways. Like Bunyan he was haunted by terrible dreams and visions. And like Bunyan he was plunged into awful agony and despair by imagining that God had reprobated, or predestined, him to be damned.

Lorenzo Dow was born in Connecticut, October 16, 1777. His parents were born in the same town, but were descended from English ancestors. They had a son and four daughters beside Lorenzo, who was next to the youngest. They tried to educate the children well both in religion and common learning. Lorenzo came near dying when two years of age, and he always suffered from a weak constitution. When he was between three and four years