Amid all these startling experiences and developments, nothing was more noteworthy than the conduct and characteristic energy which distinguished Black Morris. He gathered together the poor little dirty and ragged children, and formed them into a class, the nucleus of a Sunday-school, and Sunday after Sunday taught them the gracious lessons of Jesus and His love, with an aptitude and a self-sacrificing zeal which were attended with results of the most pleasing kind. In this work he was assisted by Hannah Olliver. Dismissed from Waverdale Hall for her gross imprudence anent Aubrey Bevan and the burglary, she had returned home, and under the wise influences of her worthy old parents, her eyes were opened to a clear conception of her foolishness and sin. She had commenced business for herself as a milliner and dressmaker, for in the mysteries of these arts she was a skilled adept. She had been brought to God in “the great revival,” and found a congenial employment in teaching the little children their letters, and in pointing them to Jesus. In this fashion the good work continued, prospered, and extended, until the need of a chapel was simply vital, and it was felt that the all-essential sanctuary must be provided. At a leaders’ meeting, held at Farmer Houston’s, that good man and true said,-- “Well; it seems to me that we cannot possibly get on any further without a chapel. We are so pressed with prosperity that we don’t know which way to turn.” “Yes,” said Nathan Blyth, “We are fairly driven into a corner. There’s no mistake about it; the time is ripe for it, if we could only get a piece of ground.” “Don’t you think,” said Mr. Clayton, “that Mr. Crabtree would now give us a ‘place to dwell in?’ It’s true his property is rather out of the way, but I think he would listen to us.” Adam Olliver, who had been listening with sparkling eyes to this conversation, rubbing his hands together with delight, here broke in,-- “You all seeam te be o’ yah mind, ’at t’ tahme’s ripe for a chapil, an’ ’at we can’t deea withoot it nae langer. Ah’s just o’ that opinion mysen; and seea we may expect te get it. The Lord nivver works till t’ tahme _is_ ripe; an’ He allus comes an’ mak’s bare His airm te meet a heavy need. His ’and’s allus riddy for a deead lift. He didn’t splet t’ Rid Sea till Pharaoh’s souldiers was treeading on t’ ’eels ov His people. He didn’t cum te Abr’m till t’ knife was lifted te slay his son. He didn’t cum tiv His disciples upo’ t’ sea when their lahtle booat was toss’d aboot i’ t’ storm like a cockle-shell, till t’ fowert watch i’ t’ mornin’. He didn’t cum te Peter till Herod was just gannin’ te bring him oot te dee. But He comm i’ tahme te ivvery yan on ’em, an’ he nivver cums ower leeat. Let things be a bit. Stand still, an’ see t’ salvaytion o’ God.”