Among the great Welsh preachers, then, in closing, it will now be enough to say, that, without claiming for Christmas Evans pre-eminence above all his contemporaries, or countrymen, it may, with truth, be said, we have yet better means of forming an opinion of him than of any other. We have attempted to avail ourselves of such traditions, and stories of their pulpit ministration, and such fragments of their spoken words, as may convey some, if faint, still fair, idea of their powers. Even of Christmas Evans our knowledge is, by no means, ample, nor are there many of his sermons left to us; but such as we possess seem sufficient for the formation of as high an estimate, through the medium of criticism, and the press, as that which was formed by the flocking crowds, and thousands who deemed it one of their greatest privileges, and pleasures to listen to his living voice. And it must be admitted, we think, that these sermons are of that order which retains much of its power, when the voice through which it spoke is still. Welsh sermons, beyond almost any others, lose their vitality by the transference to the press, and no doubt this preacher suffers in this way, too; some, however, will not bear the printing machine at all, and when the voice ceases to speak, all which made them effective is gone. With these sermons it is, undoubtedly, otherwise, and from some of them it may, perhaps, even be possible to find models of the mould of thought, and the mode at once of arrangement, as well as the qualities of emotion, and expression, which make preaching successful, whether for converting, or comforting the souls of men. Nor is it less significant that this man, who exercised a ministry of immense usefulness for more than half a century, and retained his power over men, with the same average freshness, and splendour until within four days of his death, did so in virtue of the living freshness of his heart, and mind. Like such men as John Bunyan, and Richard Baxter, no University could claim him, for he was of none; he had graduated in no college, had sat before no academical prelections, and was decorated with no diplomas,—only the Divine Spirit was master of the college in which he was schooled. We write this with no desire to speak disparagingly of such training, but, rather, to bring out into conspicuous honour the strength of this self-formed, severely toiling, and nobly suffering man. He was a spiritual athlete in labours more abundant; perhaps it might seem that the “one-eyed man of Anglesea,” as he was so familiarly called, until this designation yielded to the more affectionate term of “Old Christmas,” throughout the Principality—must have been in bodily presence contemptible; but if his appearance was rugged, we suppose it could scarcely have been less than royal,—a man the spell of whose name, when he came into a neighbourhood, could wake up all the sleepy villages, and bid their inhabitants pour along, up by the