broken in pieces, his soul was melted into contrition, and his sins were blotted out, and he made a new creature in Christ Jesus. Old things passed away, and all things became new. Never did he go to the theatres again. His language was:

"Let worldly minds the world pursue;

It has no charms for me:

Once I admired its trifles too,

But grace has set me free."

He became a bright and a shining light in the Church. He emigrated to America, and became Steward of the Orphan House in Georgia. Whitefield pronounced upon him a most splendid eulogy, saying, "He was one of the most honest men the world ever saw-an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile."

The Profane Captain.

There was a captain of a ship, a bold blasphemer, one who declared his sin as Sodom and hid it not, one who gloried in what should have crimsoned his cheeks with shame. When he had exhausted the old oaths, and was in want of new swearing material, he would go on board of transport ships, and offer a guinea for a new oath, that he might have the honor of using it as if it were original. This, surely, was swearing with a vengeance! He wished it understood that he was an adept in swearing, that he could readily use the language of hell, and was well versed in the dialect of devils.

Whitefield on one occasion, while preaching one of his heart-searching sermons near Philadelphia, had this profane captain as one of his auditors. Whitefield drew the bow, and a well-directed arrow pierced the captain's heart, and he yielded to the Captain of the Lord's hosts. He became at once a changed man. The swearer became a prayer, the bold blasphemer a saint, the son of Belial a child of God, the lion a lamb. He became very zealous for the truth he had once denounced. He suffered great persecution from the enemies of the Cross, and was beaten by them, but he endured it all with lamb-like patience. When he was reviled he reviled not again. He was in danger of being murdered by some of the enemies of Mr. Whitefield, but he showed himself a moral hero, valiant for the truth.

Whitefield and the Fiddler.

The following incident occurred in Gloucestershire, Whitefield's native county. There was an itinerant fiddler, named John Skinner, going from one place to another, and living on the proceeds he obtained for his professional services. Whitefield was preaching in a church in his neighborhood, and John was determined to interrupt him. Procuring a ladder, he placed it to a window near the pulpit, and, ascending, concluded to remain quiet till Whitefield took his text, when he intended to annoy him and his audience by playing on the violin. John heard the text, and listened to the

introduction. While he was tuning his instrument, the word Whitefield was preaching went home to his heart with tremendous power. His guilty soul trembled in view of his guilt and danger, and he felt as Felix did when Paul was before him; as Belshazzar did when he read the handwriting on the wall. His original plan was abandoned, and he began to play on another instrument a new tune. He became a new creature, abandoned his former employment, and ever after took a deep interest in the songs of Zion-in the music of the sanctuary. What he did with his bow and fiddle we are not told. He might have done as a fiddler did whom we once knew, who, when converted, sold his fiddle for a Bible, and his bow for a hymnbook. Or like a colored minister, whom we once heard say, "Before I was converted I was a fiddler, but when God changed my soul he converted fiddle, bow, strings, and all, and I have never wanted to fiddle since. But," said he, "one of you will say, don't the Bible say, Praise the Lord on an instrument of ten strings? To be sure it does. Do you want to know what the instrument is? That is the instrument. [Holding up a little Bible.] Do you want to know what the ten strings are? they are the ten commandments; now play away as long as you please."

Whitefield a Roman Catholic.

Whitefield was much amazed, while at Plymouth, to hear that it was reported that he was a Roman

Catholic, on hearing which he pleasantly remarked, "If I am a Roman Catholic the Pope has given me a large dispensation."

Whitefield and the Counselor.

He

When Whitefield preached at Bristol there was a great shaking among the dry bones, and many were converted; among others a counsellor. so enthusiastically counselled others to hear Mr. Whitefield that his wife suspected him of madness; but he could have said with Paul, “I am not mad, but speak forth the words of truth and soberness."

The Reproving Look.

There is much in a look; it often expresses volumes. There was much in Whitefield's look, and those who beheld it seldom forgot it. On a certain occasion, while Whitefield was preaching, there was a man of the baser sort, a turbulent fellow, who was very noisy, and full of threatenings of what he was going to do to the preacher. Whitefield pausing for a moment, and extending his right hand toward the fellow, gave him a look that almost annihilated him. Not being able to endure that reproving, withering look he rode off, glad to get away as quickly as possible. Whitefield remarked as he was leaving, "There he goes. Empty barrels make the most din."

Whitefield and the Triflers.

Mr. Whitefield in preaching never daubed with untempered mortar, or healed the hurt of the people slightly. In the pulpit he used great plainness of speech, so that he seemed to his hearers to be addressing each personally. A Scotch lady heard Mr. Whitefield preach from, "And the door was shut," Matt. xxv, 10. He showed against whom the door would be shut, and from what the sinner would be excluded. There were two trifling young men sitting near the lady, and not far from the door of the church, who were full of hilarity and glee, and were making light of the solemn appeals of the preacher; and during the sermon she heard one of them say in a low tone to the other, well, what if the door be shut? another will open." Whitefield had not proceeded far in his discourse when he said, "It is possible there may be some careless, trifling persons here to-day who may ward off the force of this impressive subject by lightly thinking, 'What if the door be shut? another will open."" This repetition of their remark by the preacher came upon them like a sudden flash of lightning. It put an effectual stop to their trifling. The young men were sorely troubled under his pointed appeals. Whitefield went on to say with the utmost solemnity, "Yes, another door will open, and I will tell you what door it will be: it will be the door of the bottomless pit! the door of hell! the door that conceals from the eyes of angels the horrors of damnation!"