"About the first of September, 1833, a deep and solemn interest upon the subject of religion, began to be visible in the Presbyterian church and congregation of Washingtonville, New York, and particularly in the Sabbath school. One teacher, feeling deeply the responsibility resting upon her, and the worth of immortal souls, before the school was dismissed on the Lord's day, affectionately requested her class, consisting of little girls about twelve or thirteen years of age, to remain after the rest of the school had retired. She then began, with an aching heart and with flowing tears, to reason and plead with them upon the subject of personal religion. They were deeply affected, and 'wept bitterly' in view of their lost condition. They then all knelt together before the Lord, and the teacher prayed for their salvation; and immediately the scholar next to her commenced praying for herself, and then the next, and so on, until the whole class, with ardent supplications, begged for the forgiveness of their sins, and the salvation of their souls. It would take long to tell the history of this class, and relate particular instances of conversions, and the happy changes which took place in the families to which they belonged, and show the family altars which were established. These scholars, with their teacher and their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, were ere long seen commemorating a Saviour's dying love together. The revival extended itself to other towns, and the great day can alone unfold the astonishing results." THE WIFE OF THOMAS HEYWARD. What I will, I will, and there's an end. SHAKSPEARE. Immediately after the victory of the British at Guilford, order was given for the illumination of Charleston, South Carolina. This order, Major Garden informs us,[60] the wife of Thomas Heyward of that city refused to obey; and when an officer asked her the reason of her disobedience, she replied, "Is it possible for me, sir, to feel a spark of joy? Can I celebrate the victory of your army while my husband remains a prisoner at St. Augustine?" Enraged at her obstinacy, he told her she _should_ illuminate. "Not a single light shall be placed, with my consent, on any occasion, in any window in the house," was her fearless reply. He then threatened to destroy her house before midnight. "You have power to destroy, sir," she said, "and seem well disposed to use it, but over my opinions you possess no control. I disregard your menaces, and resolutely declare, _I will not illuminate_!" As good as her word, she _did_ not, nor was her house destroyed. [60] Revolutionary Anecdotes, First Series