persisted in building. In the clear eastern sky the people could hear in the valley the echo of the hammer-knock, -knock-knock. They laughed; and yet every knock said that the Deluge was coming and hastened the event. One hundred and twenty years thus passed; Noah had finished the ark, and he and his family, as well as the creatures which were to be saved had safely entered. The people laughed more than ever, gathered round the ark, asked him how his family was, and said, 'Thou dost only want water now, Noah, to float it. Ha! ha! Ha! ha! The heavens were as bright as ever; not a cloud as big as a man's hand was to be seen anywhere. 'It's a fine day, Noah,' said they; 'no prospect of a flood yet.' Noah gave no reply. He let God Himself give the answer, and that answer came from the frowning sky and the heaving earth-The same day all the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened' -and mocking men were silenced in the terrible flood.'

"That was the only time that I heard Mr. John Roberts,* of Tabernacle,' Merthyr. He was an exceptionally big, broad man, with a very strong and rugged countenance. He had serious shortcomings, but was one of the most eloquent and powerful preachers that ever ascended the Welsh pulpit. His appeals were awful. He often revelled in the fearful and the terrible, in the vicinity of Sinai and the judgment to come. The thunder would roar, the lightning flash, the storm howl, the thunderbolts fly, so that flesh and blood could scarcely stand the effect. At that Association he preached from the words, Verily, this was the Son of God.' Taking up the sneer that Jesus was an impostor he said, 'Thou veil of the Temple, thou hast seen many an eminent priest and prophet die, and hast remained whole until this hour, but why rend when that impostor dies! * The late Rev. John Roberts, Baptist minister.

Thou ancient earth, thou hast witnessed the death of thy greatest sons, yet thy huge foundations have stood as firm as ever, but why shake and tremble like an aspen leaf when that impostor dies! Ye dead of Jerusalem, many of the mighty, yea, some of the mightiest the world ever saw, have passed away and joined you since you have slept there, but why move and rise when that impostor breathes his last! Ye adamantine rocks of Judæa, you have seen patriarchs and prophets, priests and psalmists draw in their feet to die, and have stood unmoved, but why rend when that impostor dies on yonder tree! Thou great sun, the king of day, thou hast seen the mightiest in song, in learning, and in power-poets, philosophers, and kings-thou hast seen Homer, Socrates, and Alexander the Great draw their last breath beneath the cold hands of the King of Terrors, and thou didst not put on 'mourning, but why dress in black, why draw the veil of mourning over that bright face of thine when that impostor dies. between two malefactors on yonder cross?"

"Ah, we've had glorious preachers," said Shadrach, "and there are as good to-day as ever, I think."

"Then you don't agree with the great Ebenezer Richard," said Hugh. "He once said that the Lord in the last century had kindled about half a dozen torches that lit up all the Principality, but he was afraid that they had given way to candles twenty-four in the pound."

"Well, of course, they were wonderful men," replied Shadrach, "and I'm not surprised that anyone should doubt that God would send the like of them again. They were bright lights, and they could be seen more easily then, because the darkness was greater, but there are bright lights in Wales still, and, judging from to-day, God isn't going to allow them to come down to small candles yet." The village being now reached, the friends parted.

CHAPTER XVI.

A Ministerial Chat.

LADLY do ministers avail themselves of the opportunities afforded by such meetings for social intercourse. On this occasion a goodly number met in David Lewis's parlour for a chat and a homely cup of tea. The conversation first turned upon the services of the day, then upon the preachers of other days, especially the three great princes of the Welsh pulpit in the early part of this century-Christmas Evans, John Elias, and Mr. Williams, of Wern.

"I was delighted to see old Mr. Robert Jones, of Llanllyfni, on the 'stage' to-day," said one of the older ministers. He preached a very powerful sermon in that field twenty-five years ago on the text, 'The Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek,' and taking those words as prophetic of Christ, he said, 'The Lord of heaven had only one Son, and He anointed Him to be a preacher. Young men in the ministry think very highly of your calling.'-The effect was thrilling."

"He is a sturdy old Puritan," said another with a smile. "He can hit hard, but the honesty of his intention, the purity of his life, and his kindness of disposition secure to him the goodwill of all lovers of truth. Lecturing on one occasion on the Church of England in Wales, he created great amusement by stating that he had no idea what a canon was. But,' said he, 'there's a good opportunity of knowing to-night,' and addressing a clergyman. present asked, 'Will you kindly tell us what a canon is?' The clergyman shook his head. 'O,' said Mr. Jones, M does not know.' He addressed the same question to another clergyman present. He did not reply. 'Then,' said Mr. Jones, 'there are three of us here who cannot say what a canon is; the probability is, my dear friends, that no one can tell. But,' said he further, 'I know something of it, too; there are four of these gentlemen at Bangor, each of them receives £350 for three months' service, and were he to retire to bed for the other nine months no one would miss him.'"

"He is a gem in the rough and has worn well," said another old minister. "When he was a young man he was friendly with the great Christmas Evans. The first time I remember him was preaching a sermon before that grand old dreamer and one-eyed seraph. Ah, that's nearly fifty years ago. Robert Jones was then a promising young

V

man, and Christmas Evans was in the height of his popularity, drawing thousands after him wherever he went. Christmas preached wonderfully at that morning service, his subject being Satan walking in dry places.'* The same evening he preached a striking sermon from the words, Behold I stand at the door and knock.'t Those who had often heard him said that he never preached more powerfully than on that occasion. The thousands present were fairly carried away by the rich imagination and fervid eloquence of the greatest preacher that God has ever given to Wales.

"I've read most of the Lives' of Christmas Evans,‡ but I forget where he began preaching just now," said one of the young ministers.

"In connection with the Baptist church at Aberduar,” replied the speaker; "the minister who baptized him was a remarkable man, and came from a well-known family which has produced a succession of exceptional men. I refer, of course, to Mr. Timothy Thomas. He was a wealthy man, and lived on one of the best farms in the vale of Teivy. He would often go on horse-back on Sunday mornings a distance of forty miles to preach, and return to his home the same evening. He was exceptionally tall and powerful, and was distinguished for his energy, wit, and tact. The anecdotes told about him are very numerous. On one Sunday he was preaching in the neighbourhood of Llandilo. The morning service was a baptismal one, and, of course, was conducted in the open air. It was a very beautiful See Appendix. + See Appendix.

The leading “Lives” of Christmas Evans are those written by the Rev. R. Ellis (Cynddelw), in Welsh, and by the Revs. D. R. Stephens, T. M. Evans, and Paxton Hood, in English. These, especially the two last-mentioned, include about all that can be told about that great man, whose name occupies the foremost place among those of the leading preachers of Wales.