CHAPTER I.

Early and College Life.

B

Would I describe a preacher such as Paul,
Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own,
Paul should himself direct me; I would trace
His master-strokes and draw from his design.
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too. Affectionate in look
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of peace to guilty men.

Behold the picture! Is it like ? Like whom?

Early and College Life.

ABOUT sixty years ago in a Welsh farm-house an old man was lying on his death-bed, while his son, busy looking after his teams and giving orders to his men, was pondering in his heart a question fraught with momentous consequences. This son was a Christian, but his father had hitherto refused to heed anything beyond this world, and had manifested anger whenever the subject of personal religion was brought before him. He had told his son that if he ever spoke to him again about his soul, he should be disinherited. There was no doubt the threat would be carried into effect; there was good reason to fear the effort made would be in vain, and for a time the question of relative duty to his family and to his father was thoughtfully weighed by Stephen Rowland.

He was not a man to hesitate long on such a subject, or to allow concern for the temporal interests of his household to outweigh his solicitude for the eternal happiness of the dying man. He went once more to plead with his father. Scorn and abuse were his only reward. No sooner had he left the house for his own home than the old man sent for a lawyer, made a fresh will, and when he died, shortly after, it was found that he had left his faithful son £20 and a cow, while numerous cousins were delighted to find

themselves remembered and enriched by unexpected legacies.

Did the son regret the course he had pursued? "There is no man who hath left houses, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, but shall receive manifold more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting." Did his children suffer because their inheritance was alienated from them? "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold." This little incident will serve to show what sort of man this Welsh farmer was: a man who solemnly believed what some people are content only to sing,—

"Religion is the chief concern

Of mortals here below."

Stephen Rowland and his wife were the children of neighbours, were born on the same day, and baptized at the same time; they shared together the joys and sorrows of childhood, and as they grew older their friendship ripened into a strong attachment. When they were comparatively young they married and settled in a pleasant farm-house at the foot of Mount Priscilly, Pembrokeshire, which continued to be their home through life. Six daughters had already gladdened their hearts when, on Dec. 3, 1804, they rejoiced over the birth of their first-born son, whom they named James, after his mother's brother, Rev. James Philipps, of Clapham. The child was dedicated to God from his earliest infancy, and enjoyed careful religious training.

These privileges were, in the course of a few years, shared by two brothers and one more sister.

Mrs. Rowland was a woman of great energy and decision of character; her fervent piety and constant prayerfulness produced a deep impression upon the minds of her children. It was her custom, however busy she might be, to secure some time in the middle of the day for private prayer. She could say with David,-" Evening, morning, and at noon will I pray and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice." The mercy-seat was her refuge in hours of perplexity and sorrow, and when her children did wrong, she not only prayed for them, but led them to her own room to pray with them also. The mother's prayers and tears touched them as no punishment would have done.

Mr. Stephen Rowland was a man of few words, distinguished for judgment, prudence, integrity, and piety. He was well known as a generous, kind-hearted neighbour; and he had one peculiar gift, which proved useful in a place so far from a town-that of a good bone-setter. People for miles round would send for him to set the dislocated or broken bones of animals, and were sometimes glad to secure his services for themselves. His nerve and skill were such, that doctors often sought his presence and help in difficult cases of fracture. Even as late as the year 1867, testimony was borne to this when his son visited his native place. On that occasion he met an old lady, who said, "Your father paid many visits to our farm to attend to our cattle, and sometimes he has got up