“Whose roof is the cerulean sky; Whose floor the earth so fair; Whose walls are vast immensity: All nature worships there.” Before the close of that service more than one was constrained to say, “God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” In 1859, she wrote in reference to evangelistic efforts: “There were eight thousand tracts given away at the feeing-market yesterday.” In the summer of 1860, many thousands assembled in the castle park, at the invitation of the Duchess, to listen to the silver trumpet of the gospel sounding the year of jubilee. Similar gatherings were held during the three following years. On some of these occasions it was computed that seven thousand persons were present; on others, ten thousand. The Lord’s people were refreshed, and many careless ones were awakened. In 1863, the Duchess writes: “I cannot but wonder to see the meetings increasing in numbers and interest every year; not as a rendezvous for a pleasant day in the country, but really very solemn meetings, where the presence of the Lord is felt and the power of His Spirit manifested.” Clergymen of a certain school may sneer at lay evangelists; she could not join them in their sneers. It may be that these men are not always prudent—that their zeal sometimes outruns their discretion. Well, what then? Would we have the sentinel to walk with measured military step, who is on his way to trample out the lighted match which has been set to a train of gunpowder? If not human lives, are human souls to be sacrificed to the martinetism of the excessively prudent? If we are to contend against a thing merely because of its abuse, then all preaching must come to an end, clerical as well as lay. _GOOD WORKS._