men kin and from which every religion springs. In forming the new spirit of Americanism, few events were more important than the Great Awakening. During that sudden up-surging of religious emotionalism, which for a decade rolled like a tidal wave over the colonies, provincial boundaries and the distinctions of race and creed were in some measure forgotten in a new sense of common nature and human brotherhood. True it is that the Great Awakening was accompanied by no lack of acid jealousies and unchristian recrimination. In almost every sect "New Light" separated from "Old Light," "New Side" from "Old Side," in most unfraternal division. Gilbert Tennant, imitating Whitefield and out-heroding Herod, exhausted ecclesiastical billingsgate in quest of terms to characterize those clergymen--Congregational or Presbyterian or Anglican; those "letter-learned Pharisees," those "moral negroes," those "plastered hypocrites"--who stood out in stiff-necked opposition to revivalist methods of inculcating vital religion. Schism divided the Presbyterians for more than a decade; many congregations in eastern Connecticut, renouncing the Saybrook Platform and the Half-Way Covenant, "separated" from the Association; and in Massachusetts the quarrel between revivalists and anti-revivalists only accentuated the breach between new and old Calvinists. And true it is that the flood tide was followed by the ebb: the tremendous emotional upheaval, which began with the Northampton sermons of Jonathan Edwards in 1734, seemed to cease after 1744 as suddenly as it came. For more than a year scarcely one person was converted in all Boston, said Thomas Prince in 1754. Jonathan Edwards waited in vain from 1744 to 1748 for a single applicant for admission to the Northampton Church. And the great Whitefield himself, returning to America in 1744, 1754, and 1764, although always gladly heard by thousands, found that the old magic had unaccountably lost its wonder-working power.