The reader may probably have some curiosity to know what sort of a preacher this person is. I have gone to hear him; and I pity his poor deluded followers. He does indeed deliver himself in a full, clear, articulate tone of voice; but to criticise style, or analyse the _substance_ of his discourse, would be a fruitless labour: it would be like dissecting a cobweb. Unmeaning rhapsodies, and unconnected sentences, through which the faintest gleam of morality is not to be traced, must, from their evanescent nature, set the powers of recollection at defiance: they even escape from the lash of one’s contempt. {11} In his countenance there is none of that dignified mildness, none of that subdued expression of piety which one often observes in Christian preachers whose habits of life are conformable to their precepts. His manner is forward and imposing; and his eyes are continually employed in staring at some person among his auditors. But these being people of the very lowest description, and, to all appearance, wrapt in a cloud of superstitious stupor, scarcely ever examine the physiognomy of their idol. I have a word or two, to add on the subject of riotous proceedings. On Sunday evening last there was a large crowd of people assembled near the entrance of the Obelisk Chapel. There were several groupes of persons holding arguments on the merits of the preacher, but not the slightest indication of riot. And the only noise or disturbance that I observed, was created by a gang of fellows who rushed through the crowd in the character of peace officers with drawn cutlasses in their hands. _Extract from the Weekly Dispatch of April_ 25, 1813.