Mr. Mitchell calmly and quietly opened his commission. “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,” was the text from which he preached a short and simple sermon. As one who felt the rest which he offered to his hearers, his heart was on his lips, and his tearful earnestness won them, at any rate, into quietude of behaviour. He thanked them for listening, and invited them to the malt-kiln, whither they were about to adjourn. The little home-missionary band was now strengthened by the arrival of Nathan Blyth, Farmer Houston, Adam Olliver, and some others, and the first service in the odd conventicle was fairly well attended, but almost solely by those who did not need the special efforts they were making. The inhabitants of the locality held themselves almost entirely aloof, and seemed to ignore the matter altogether, except by an occasional stone flung into the place, or a loud shout at the door, by some young Harbourite, “just for fun.” Nevertheless, the worshippers felt their Master’s presence, and left the old malt-kiln confirmed in their determination to keep their torch alight in the midst of a moral darkness which might be felt. Services were now held in quick succession, and first one and then another of the people of the place found their way within the sound of the Gospel message, and in cases not a few the preached Word became the power of God unto salvation to them that believed. Mary Morris found a congenial mission in beating up recruits for the malt-kiln meetings. Her quiet and gentle manners won upon the rough and rude inhabitants of the unattractive colony, and many, both men and women, were persuaded to “come and see.” So matters went on for some time, until at length Mr. Mitchell, hopeful and determined, arranged for a series of special services. Mr. Clayton himself and a few local preachers took turn about on the little platform pulpit, and on the third night of the series the power of God came mightily down upon the worshippers; many were constrained to utter the cry of the Philippian jailor and the prayer of the publican, and a revival of religion took place such as had not been seen or known in the Kesterton Circuit since the olden days, when the “early Methodist preachers,” Boanerges by name and nature, every man of them, first awoke the echoes of the moral wilderness, crying, “Repent ye! for the kingdom of God is at hand!” Nor was the cry of penitence and the shout of joy heard only among the young and female portion of the population, neither were they confined to those who dwelt in Midden Harbour. Big men, bearded and burly, wept like children, and groaning aloud in distress of soul, were led by the eager toilers to the Lifted Cross, and rejoiced in conscious peace and pardon through the blood of Christ. The wife and sons of Dick Spink, an entire household of the name of Myers, itinerant pot-sellers, were all converted in most unmistakable