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To Boston Juvenile Society, for Joseph Perry's writing box, contents, &c. And for Mary Ward, bag, scissors, cotton-stand, &c.

The warmest thanks of Mr. and

Mrs. Stubbins are also presented to J. Heard, Esq., Nottingham, for two dozen of worsted jackets for native preachers.

To Mrs. Baldwin, Nottingham, for valuable present of knives and pencils for native preachers. Sundry presents for their wives and children. Needles, thimbles, crochet needles, bodkins, &c., &c. Print for Chris

tians.

To Miss Granger, Nottingham, for sun bonnets, embroidery ready traced, &c.

To a number of kind friends at Long Sutton, Fleet, and Holbeach, for boxes containing valuable prints for schools and native christians.

To Mrs. Kemp, of Nottingham, for a parcel containing print for native christians. March 2nd, 1863.

CHRISTMAS EVANS has been styled the Welsh Bunyan, and not without reason. He bore a striking resemblance to the glorious dreamer in his love of allegories and impersonations, in his power of clothing them with flesh and blood, in his day visions, and in his hand to hand conflicts with the Prince of Darkness. He was like Bunyan also in his study of one Book, in his burning zeal for the spiritual welfare of his countrymen, and in the marvellousness of his pulpit efforts. And yet the extant sermons of the Welsh and English dreamers scarcely help us to understand the secret of their power. In the case of Evans, much more than in the case of Bunyan, the character and condition of the people and the times had much to do with his success.

The Principality before the days of Evans, and even during the earlier portion of his life, was cut off from the absorbing interests and pursuits common elsewhere. The Welsh had no sports, no merry

VOL. IV.-NEW SERIES, No. 6,

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makings, except at occasional fairs and weddings, no theatres, no politics, no newspapers, no literature. Cooped up in their own mountain fastnesses, and strangers to the bustle and stir of great cities, and all that gives them attraction and life, they were in the most favourable circumstances for the development of their provincial character. Their Celtic ardour was ready to seize upon the first excitement that offered. Happily that excitement chiefly in the form of religious revivals. The followers of Whitefield and Wesley stirred up the old Cymric fires and fanned them with the breath of heaven. The Bible became the Welshman's chief study, and theology his only science. By the road, in the fields, in the farm-house, in the shop, in the smithy, and even in the way-side inn, religious themes now formed the staple of his conversation. It naturally followed that preaching should become the chiefest attraction to Welshmen. They forgot the ripening harvests, ready for

the sickle; they forsook the shop, the smithy, and the ale-house, that they might flock to hear the great men whom God was then raising up. Vast crowds gathered upon spots which from their natural grandeur or loveliness might aid the dullest speakers, yet where the stranger's eye could only detect a few scattered homesteads. But the preachers owed more than half their power to their hearers. Rapt attention was depicted on the already excited throng. A single hymn, or a fervent prayer, touched the springs of an emotion which was but faintly concealed. The eager upturned faces kindled the inspiration of the preacher, even before he had taken his text. Presently, as he warmed with his theme, murmurs of approval and encouragement arose from the listening throng. There was not, as with the Byzantine Greeks, when stirred with pulpit oratory, waving of handkerchiefs and clapping of hands; nor yet, as in their case, any disturbing effects upon the preacher from dissimilar demonstrations. On the contrary, the fervent Welsh responses stimulated rather than checked the glow of the preacher's fancy, and loosened his tongue. Many were entirely dependant on such modes of approval, and in their absence were certain to fail. The people excited the preacher, and the preacher, reflect ing the excitement visible before him, in deepening it increased his

understand, and addressed itself chiefly to this one object-present effect.

But a very important part must also be assigned to the hywl,* especially among such a susceptible people. This last peculiarity of Welsh preaching, which arose during the revivals, is unlike anything known in England. To compare it to the Puseyite intonation would be simply absurd. Intonation is ludicrous or distressing according to the temper of those who hear for the first time its drawling monotonous whine. The Welsh hywl, on the contrary, was varied, musical, entrancing. Now it murmured in soft lute-like cadences, or low and sweet as the gentle cooing of woodpigeons in the heat of a summer's noon, when their pleasant lullaby, the welcome shade, and the balmy air, combine to invite repose. Then it would suddenly ring out in the shrill and startling tones of alarm, fearful from its vehemence, and loud enough to awaken the Seven Sleepers of Christendom. Again it sank,now into a faint hollow sepulchral whisper, now into a wail of despair, now into a plaintive sobbing as of a broken heart; and then, while scarcely an eye was dry, the speaker's voice once more gathered volume and swelled, and waxing louder and louder, at length burst forth into the deep diapason of the thunder's roar.

the

To a Welsh audience the hywl was simply irresistible. It would obey the impulses of the preacher's passion as passively as the cornfields answer the shifting currents of the wind. Even impassive Englishmen have confessed weird potency of its enchantment. Without knowing a word of Welsh, their senses have been soothed as by the witchery of sweetest music; and then, as the orator's tones become inspiring or terrible, they have as rapidly passed from the ecstasies of delight into the depths of an awe-stricken and crouching despair.

* Literally, 'full sail.'