Early Life of Christmas Evans.

171

papers, inartistically put together, | wings he dashed off in one of his containing, most probably, a rather wildest flights. His voice rose with full sketch of his sermon, but as it his imagination into an unmelodious there appears, giving little promise; and passionate shriek under which at best a huge cumbrous, Puritanical many confessed his power. The disjecta membra, vital only to him- crowd now gathers. Loiterers cease self. He turns aside, loiters awhile their sauntering. The listless are about the rough scaffolded platform, | aroused. One eager glauce is and then makes his way abstractedly directed by the throng to the beyond the margin of the crowd, some of whom have noticed the mysterious communication between - Daniel Davies and the odd-looking man, and wondered whether the minister could ever think of such an absurdity as asking him to preach. Still the shabby, ill-favoured stranger muses absorbedly over this his second Association sermon. The first produced no remarkable effect. While he muses the fire slowly kindles, thoughts acquire a startling vividness, abstractions are clothed with flesh and blood. He lives again in the most memorable scenes of the past.

The time now draws near for

his appearance. The singing is concluded. He stands up on the platform, presenting, even to that rustic audience, a scarecrowish appearance. The people are fast concluding that the Velinvole pastor has made a mistake, and begin to disperse, some to seek refreshment, others to rest under the hedges after their weary journeys and to seek shelter from the burning rays of the midsummer's sun. The rest group themselves together, and talk freely, perhaps of the preachers who are expected, and of their several excellencies. This one will surely have sense enough to be short. Amidst the general hum and restlessness, the one-eyed youth, reads his text-And you, that were sometime alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath He reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy, and unblameable, and unreproveable in His sight. His first movements, were stiff and awkward, while his remarks were crude and commonplace. He had not proceeded far, however, before, having thus preened his

preacher. Old and young are fairly enchained. Ideal scenes are painted with such bold and vivid strokes that the audience become spectators rather than listeners. Preachers who were lounging on the grass start on their feet. Responses burst forth-Amen, Bendigedig, Diolch byth. The chorus runs from those near the platform to the furthermost margin of the crowd. Now men laugh at the irresistible oddity of some stroke of wit-now all are weeping like children. The excitement is at its height. The preacher concludes; but the weeping and rejoicing continue until worn-out nature brings the scene to a close.

Christmas Evans was born on the 25th of December, 1766, in a cottage belonging to a farm called Esgairwen, in the neighbourhood of the long and straggling village of Llandyssul, prettily situated among the Cardiganshire hills. His father was a shoemaker, and was in no way distinguished from ordinary men of his class around him. He died when Christmas, his second child, was scarcely nine years old. His mother seems to be equally undistinguished. Six years of the early life of Christmas were spent as herdsboy and general farm labourer, and were remarkable chiefly for the hardship and unkindness he then endured. Uncouth, rustic, awkward, largeboned, muscular, with a good deal of ponderous individuality-such was the boy. The slumbering soul of the lad was aroused in the religious excitement through which the Principality was then passing. The co-workers of Whitefield were the first to cast in this leaven; and by and bye its transfusing virtue touched and changed the spirit of Christmas Evans. He was then

This

what wilt thou do now? The world is in flames. It is too late." brought me back from my wanderings. I was very thankful when I awoke that it was a dream.'

In 1788 he gives up his Presbyterianism, and becomes a Baptist, and is sadly afraid that he is still a rank Arminian.' Under the influence of the second Timothy Thomas, of Aberduar, half farmer, half preacher, Christmas Evans got a more definite theology, and was feeling his way to the secret of his power. People were still in great doubt whether he was a genius or a fool, but the major part strongly inclined to the latter alternative. He was always living in dreams, was destitute of tact, was impulsive and capricious in his judgments, guileless and unworldly, and displayed an odd mixture of simplicity and penetration.

scarcely eighteen years old. With a new heart he discovered a new world. His desire for knowledgeespecially religious knowledge-was awakened. He learnt to read his Welsh Bible in a month, and borrowed books wherever they could be found. The Pilgrim's Progress, a Welsh-English dictionary, and the Bible-these were his chief companions. The idea of entering the ministry now grew upon him. He was pre-eminently destitute of the reserve and self-containedness which belong to more cultured society, and at once spoke of his wish to others. Occasionally he was overheard declaiming sermons to imaginary audiences. The pulpit of Llwynrhydowen was reputed to be difficult to enter. He began, however, to preach in the cottage of a friend, and by and bye got some little note. Still anxious for the ministry, he spent six months with He presently settles at Lleyn, as Rev. D. Davies, of Castell-Hywel; the itinerating pastor of four of five and like many others of his country- little churches, and gets, as he says, men at that time, worked occasion-the key' to the kind of preaching ally in the bordering English in which he could excel from Robert counties to secure a little supply of money. The struggle between poverty and learning was severe, and he was sorely tempted to give up. His spirit was, he says, rebuked for this backsliding, and in this way. He had been at the fair of Capel-Cynon, and had bought a copy of the Pilgrim's Progress. The fairs in that region were as bad as Donnybrook. Riotous, drinking, brawling men were attracted thither from every quarter. Christmas was returning home, carrying his Pilgrim in triumph, when he was suddenly attacked by six men. was struck,' he says, on the eye, and lost the use of it on the spot. I received another blow on the head, and remained unconscious for sometime. That night I saw in a dream that the day of judgment had come. Christ appeared on the clouds, and the whole world was in flames. I was in unutterable fear; yet cried, with some confidence and earnestness, for peace. He replied; "Thou didst purpose to be a preacher; but

I

Roberts of Llanllyfni, a Methodist preacher. From Lleyn he removes to Anglesea, and fixes his home at Llangevni. He resides at this place when the sermon already referred to was preached. His best days were spent in Anglesea, and also his worst; best, if we look at the latter part-worst, if we look at the former. He was always strangely susceptible to stronger natures than his own, and disposed to imitate. He never set up for either an independent thinker,' or an original genius.' After hearing Robert Hall preach, he toned down his own shrilly husky peals to an almost ludicrous imitation of the orator's thrilling whisper. After coming within the sweep of John R. Jones's influence, he was infected with Sandemanianism. This last strange episode continued about five years, and was not without its benefits. Like an earthquake it shook my former system,' says Christmas Evans. Ι was compelled to go down to its very found.

Christmas Evans on his Preaching Tours.

173

ations, rebuild some of the gate- | by some kind of vessel. No vessel ways, and measure the whole with was near. His good wife had, howthe measuring reed of truth. It ever, just bought him an expensive made me re-examine the whole of new hat, and he positively started my religion in the light of the Word. on this particular journey looking This enlarged my understanding very respectable. Christmas Evans and established my opinions; just deliberately, and as if it had been a as a man who sees countries, cities, matter of course, converted his hat and harbours with his own eyes. into a water-pail. On his return has a more thorough knowledge of Catherine expressed her surprise them than he could have obtained that the new hat looked so dashed. by glancing at maps, or by being O,' said he, it very likely got a told of them by others. But for little damaged when I used it to this earthquake, I should not have water "old Lemon!"' been able to handle with the little success that I now do various religious subjects. I now understand that a man with the advantages of education, and by use and art, may be able to speak about things very fluently, and yet be incapable of entering thoroughly into a subject unless he has been led into some controversial battle about it, when he is obliged to stand the fire, and not simply carry his gun upon his shoulder when there is no enemy in the field.'

He was then accustomed to take long preaching tours to and from the Associations, collecting money for his chapels, and seeking to eke out his starvation-salary of £17 a year by selling a few of his own pamphlets. It is said that he once received less than the shilling,' the average itinerant fee, and that a poor woman remarked: Well, Christmas Evans, bach, I hope you will be paid at the resurrection; you gave us a wonderful sermon.' Yes, yes, Shan fach,' said the preacher; no doubt of that, but what am I to do till I get there? And there's the old white mare that carries me; what shall she do?for her there will be no resurrection.' That mare, according to the current joke among the ministers, would insist upon having the middle of the road. She was well cared for by her master. Once, as he was travelling, he thought his mare needed water, and coming in sight of the wished for element, he yet found it impossible for the animal to quench her thirst without being helped to it

Christmas was well-known in many households during these preaching tours, and his particular weaknesses were carefully studied. Like an Irishman of our acquaintance, he was amazingly fond of blankets. In many households this created no small difficulty. He has unconsciously impoverished a whole family to gratify this whim. On one occasion the difficulty was altogether of another kind. It was obvious that he should have a room to sleep in nearly as long as himself. He was not fortunate in securing even this. The 'prophet's chamber' was a small lean-to on the ground floor, made of 'wattle and daub.' Christmas, from his great stature, could not fully stretch himself in bed without an undue pressure of his feet against the decaying fence work which barely enclosed him from the road. He was aroused in the morning by the rumbling of a cart which sounded dangerously near, and to his horror, he found that his protruding foot had narrowly escaped a very dangerous collision. On these journeys he often amused people by carefully collecting simple medicinal recipes for the treatment of men, but especially of horses. He dotted them down at once on hearing them, often in the middle of his manuscript sermons. The strangest possible mixtures were the result. In close proximity with some remarks on the indispensableness of faith, might be found an infallible cure for the asthma!

His manuscript sermons were a curiosity, and sometimes got him into trouble-but not from their

They contained his hands in vehement exultation at his victory; and now turns and addresses his visitors with cordiality, and becomes as genial and playful as a child.

valuable recipes.
sketches of some of his deacons,
their particular weaknesses often
being hit off by a single happy and
ludicrous epithet. The short comings
of other pillars of the church' were
also related. Now as Christmas
had no
notions of order, these
sermons were often scattered about
his cottage, and so getting into
other people's hands, secured unex-
pectedly a wider circulation for his
epithets and his criticisms than the
author ever contemplated.

Evans inside his little Cildwrn cottage sermon-making is a sketch worthy the attention of genre artists. Let us enter with these two young ministers. Catherine admits us with a few quiet words. Seated at a table set out for tea is a man evidently unconscious and yet wide awake. A Bible is in his hand, and agonizing thought is pictured in deep furrows on his brow. He takes no more note of us as we enter than if we were pieces of familiar furniture. He moves to and fro in his chair, performing the pumping process of which John Foster speaks. There is no result: still he will not give up the effort. He closes and opens his eyes, but on other scenes. His face looks dark and clouded. His first cup of tea has been drunk long ago, and his wife nudges him to send it forward to be replenished. All unconscious of her meaning he hands her the little Bible instead of the cup! Still the vision does not brighten. He becomes restless, gets up from his seat, and turns over page after page of Dr. Owen. He tries another Puritan divine; then another; but all in vain. What can he do? the result does not come. Still he cannot let go. One resource remains: he there and then, undistracted by earthly presence, bends his knee in fervent prayer, and pours forth most ardent supplications that the eyes of his understanding may be opened.

Again he resumes his work. His face grows calmer and brighter. The expression of agony passes away. He jumps up, claps

The unworldliness of his spirit was strikingly shown when he was living at Lleyn, shortly after his marriage. Catherine was a thrifty careful soul, and managed to get for a whole year, rude comfort and nourishment out of oatmeal, buttermilk, and potatoes, with now and then, but very rarely-some animal food, to give a slight flavour to existence-and this too out of something less than many decentlysupported ministers give per annum inservant's wages. But for Catherine he would often have been crushed beneath the load of his own dreams and fancies, and especially in relation to his pulpit efforts. One blesses the good creature for her kindly heart and shrewd womanly tact. Catherine, bach,' said Christmas one day, perhaps playfully, but also characteristically, You never mind the potatoes; put your trust in Providence, and all will be well.'

I'll tell you what we'll do, Christmas,' replied Catherine; 'You go and sit down on the top of Moel y Gest, waiting for Providence, and I'll go and hoe the potatoes; and we shall see to which of us Providence will come first.'

His

It may interest some to know that Christmas Evans tried in vain to establish the weekly offering. life-long poverty was an honour to himself, but must always remain a disgrace to the people who permitted it, and who were wont to send a suit of clothes when the old ones looked shabby, or a flitch of bacon when the larder was nearly empty. When will Dissenting churches awaken to their duty in the matter of minister's salaries? As affairs are too often conducted the deacons act as if they thought that men could preach best when their stomachs were empty, and have freest hearts when fearful remorseless debts hung like millstones about their necks. Ifthe men who thus seek to crush all manhood out of

Personal Traits.

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