O, Adam Olliver! are you not aware that there are things between heaven and earth not dreamt of in your philosophy? Both you and Balaam will see the “sight horrific,” before many days are over, and when that great event transpires, then, as the immortaliser of John Gilpin says, “May I be there to see!” CHAPTER XXXII PIGGY MORRIS HEARS A “KNOCK AT THE DOOR.” “The specious sermons of a learned man Are little else but flashes in the pan; The mere haranguing upon (what they call) Morality is powder without ball; But he who preaches with a Christian grace, Fires at our vices, and the shot takes place.” _John Byrom._ The service at the malt-kiln in Midden Harbour continued to be attended with results most gratifying to the little band who had made so bold a raid on territory long held by the devil in undisputed peace. One Sunday evening the rude platform-pulpit was occupied by Nathan Blyth, who, as my readers know, was a very effective local preacher. The place was well filled by an eager but decorous crowd. Few of the residents in Midden Harbour were absent from the service, and a goodly number of people from the higher part of the village, and even from other places, had assembled to hear “the word of the Lord.” There were many there who, a little while ago, were little better, either in habits or appearance, than the Gadarene demoniac, who were now, thanks to the Great Miracle-worker, “sitting clothed, and in their right mind.” Nathan Blyth, as a preacher, was in great request at Midden Harbour, and it is no disparagement of the itinerant preachers to say that Nathan was, on the whole, and before that audience, even more popular than they. On the present occasion, Nathan was speaking to a “people prepared of the Lord,” to expect in simple trust and confidence the manifestations of the saving power of God. At the further end of the malt-kiln sat Piggy Morris, who had hitherto apparently withstood the gracious influences around him. He was not, however, by any means contented or at ease. The combined influence of his great favourite, Lucy Blyth, his son John’s remarkable conversion and deliverance, the wise and well-timed visits of Mr. Clayton, the earnest and honest activity of Mr. Mitchell, as well as the quiet influence of his own godly daughter, had all conspired to make Piggy Morris out of love with himself. The wonderful revival, too, though it had not as yet seemed to lay much hold on him, had nevertheless brought messages and impressions that rendered him unhappy and discontented with himself, and at this stage, with everybody else; not at all an uncommon state of things this, in those who are not far from the kingdom of God.