raised the highest hopes respecting his future; and, without doubt, he would have made an able travelling preacher, had he been taken hold of at this period by some prudent person.

In his nineteenth year he came to reside at Shildon; and soon his popularity as a preacher opened for him the pulpits of every Nonconformist denomination; his preaching so often for other bodies of Christians made the bigoted of his own people complain of his conduct. This was one of the causes which, in the end, drove him from the Church. Soon he began to attend discussion-classes, when he developed a great fondness for debate; it was an exercise in which he shone, no one was able to compete with him in it; and this was the leading cause of his downfall. For the purpose of preparing himself for the weekly effort he began to read infidel publications, which no man can peruse without injury to his soul. This I know well from experience. He was not long in becoming the victim of his cleverness. To have a good debate he would take any side a practice which cannot be too strongly reprobated. The utility of discussing religious matters is always open to grave doubt; some discussions may have done much good, but others have done as much evil; but mere debate for debating's sake is an outrage upon truthfulness. The Christian conscience condemns it; no Christian can enter into it without feeling that he is degrading himself. Should the reader have temptations to this habit, let him take warning from the results it brought upon Mr. Simpson.

The wise and cautious members of the Society were alarmed at what Mr. Simpson was doing. Without being aware of it, he was sowing the seeds of infidelity in the minds of young people. Fearing that this would produce mischief in the end, they took rough means to put a stop to the evil work. Who can blame them? When we consider the value of souls, and the work there is in keeping a Church together, there is no wonder at earnest men dealing strongly and firmly with anything which injures the cause of Christ. Though Mr. Simpson felt hurt at the time, yet he lived to see and confess that the treatment he received was justifiable.

For a short time he joined the society of the United Methodist Free Church, where he was very happy, and he ever afterwards spoke gratefully of the favours they showed him. Work failing him, he removed to Quebec, where he again united with the Primitives, and it is quite certain he was very unhappy with the Society. After a few months he returned to Shildon, but was out of work, and very poor for some time. He again offered his services to the Primitives, and he was more miserable in his association with them than ever. The minister of the Circuit he had left never sent his credentials, although he promised to do so; and he was reproached at a society's meeting with not having paid his class and ticket money. This was hard and unjustifiable, because, being out of work, he had no money to pay with. The next week he obtained work, and out of his first pay he took the minister 3s. 6d., and at the same time tendered his resignation.

He now plunged headlong into infidelity. The sceptical literature in which he had lived and revelled for years had silently sapped the foundations of his faith; he knew not what was going on in himself, except every now and then when heavy clouds passed across the field of his vision. When remonstrated with he took no heed, thinking, like many other rash mortals, that there was no danger. Too late he saw the grave blunder he had made, and regretted it with showers of hot tears of remorse. It is, however, plain that any judicious man, capable of removing his doubts, might have saved him from the pit of blasphemy into which he fell. At once, he threw all his energies into the work of spreading infidel objections. He took the chair for all the infidel

lecturers that visited the place to pour forth their wretched abuse upon the Gospel, and palm off their specious misrepresentations of Holy Writ. He also lectured himself on every occasion that presented itself, and spoke in favour of his new views everywhere, if anyone could be induced to listen. The infidels made him their leader, he was always put up as their spokesman, and he could speak, too, and no one but God Himself can tell the evil he did. Oh, how he regretted it afterwards! In private I often saw bitter tears rolling down his cheeks, while his whole system was convulsed with agony. He would have given anything to have recalled the past, and he did everything in his power to bring to Jesus those whom he had led astray; and his efforts in this direction were remarkably successful.

He now found himself in the very midst of atheistic darkness; and no sooner did he realise his position than he began to quiver with a mysterious terror. He was very miserable; all moral restraints had been removed; virtue was only a name for old-world prejudices; man was of no account in his eyes; the dignity of human nature was lost in the mists of his doubts. He could see no sacredness in human life; existence seemed a burden to him, he often longed for death; measuring everything by a tape of mere pleasure, he felt that suicide, in most cases, was commendable, for many men have more misery than joy. He saw nothing wrong in wickedness if it could be kept out of the reach of the law; moral distinctions faded away; virtue and vice were only the dreams of old women. Having no soul, all his pleasures must be sensual; believing in no God, he dreaded no punishment; regarding heaven as a fiction, he hoped for no reward; feeling himself a mere brute, why not act as one, and use his superior reason to outwit, as far as possible, all other brutes? All this he felt, and much more, when he had time and ability to divest himself of the excitement of the change, and take a full view of his surroundings. Just at this crisis a providential affliction fell upon him, which deepened his gloom. He had two children, whom he loved dearly, and one of them died. This was an event which agitated him greatly; he could never forget standing by the grave-side of the lovely, prattling darling that had so often elimbed upon his knee and kissed him again and again, that had met him so often as he came from work, and grasped his legs in childish glee, and feeling that he must meet it no more. That night was lonely to him. Thick fogs moved around him, and despair was in him-he could neither eat nor sleep. "Oh!" he said, when talking to me about it afterwards, "had some kind Christian spoken to me then, I should have come back to Jesus. But no one came near me; they all seemed afraid to broach the subject.”

He did not find infidelity to be what it is represented to be in sceptical literature. Poor, innocent man! he had read their boasts of reason and believed them; he really thought that they did love science, philosophy, and liberty, as they say; it never struck him to doubt their assertions when they grow so eloquent about making the most of this life. His eyes were not long in being opened. When he got to their private circles he found that they preferred Knowlton to knowledge; that they liked playing at cards better than improving their minds; that their delight was in swearing, gambling, drinking, and obscene conversation; that nothing pleased them better than a jest on God, conscience, and virtue. He was horrified, and many a time disgusted, with their ways, has he left them, and gone into another room to read and think. A full view of their private lives almost drove him wild; nothing but shame prevented him leaving them and coming back to the Saviour forthwith. Over and over again did he try to improve them without avail; they had no desire for improvement, no conviction of its necessity; and here he realised the

need of those restraining influences which the Gospel alone affords. Often did he point them to Christians, telling them that their lives were far better than those of infidels; thus trying to rouse them to efforts of self-reform, but without avail. They regarded his lingering love of virtue as a little bit of remaining superstition-which they hoped would soon expire. What a deadly thing infidelity is it undermines the very foundations of political and social life. When will the nation open her eyes to see what a monster it is?

Memories of his Christian experiences every now and then moved before his mind's eye. How beautiful they appeared! He would have given anything for the joys of those early days when he began to love Jesus. Then came the heaven-born and sun-gilt fact of his conversion, and stood before him decked in supernal splendours, breathing the odours of springtime, seeming all the more lovely from being viewed from the darkness which encircled him. Now his soul is thrown into tumult, and from her depths there come up ineradicable convictions of the excellency and divinity of Christianity. How could he get out of the fogs? Well, he would try; so he entered upon an eager investigation of Spiritualism. Many strange phenomena did he see, but nothing to satisfy him. Yet it gave him just a glimmer of a future state. It was now that he lost another child. Much did he feel it; his sorrows, however, were relieved with the ray of hope which had found its way to his soul.

Many Christian friends continued their kindness and friendship, their conduct having much influence for good. Foremost of these was one of our young local preachers, Henry Sanderson. One night I asked him what was the principal moral cause that operated in leading him to Jesus? His reply was, "The holy life, the great kindness, and the forbearance of Henry Sanderson." I first made his acquaintance about six months after his lapse from Christ. This circuit having a large debt, which it was thought could not be dealt with by ordinary means, a committee was formed, under whose directions I lectured to obtain sufficient money to remove our financial difficulties. One of the places I visited was Shildon, in the month of November, 1879. Two lectures were given; the first night I lectured on Spiritualism, and the second on Secularism. As these systems had many warm and clamorous adherents in this place at that time, and an opportunity of discussion was offered, the excitement was intense, and the audiences large. On the first night Mr. Simpson remained silent, but on the second he came forward, and the platform was left very much to us. We made each four speeches in reply to each other, and he did not succumb before a hard battle had been fought. As he spoke I was struck with his love of truth, his reverential way of speaking of sacred things, his power of thought, his skill as a debater, his gentlemanly conduct, and his vast acquaintance with infidel literature; and I regretted that such a man had gone wrong, and prayed that his eyes might be speedily opened. Little did I think then that God had appointed me to be the instrument of effecting the change. After the meeting was over I told a number of people that Mr. Simpson was too good a man to be content with Secularism, and that he would come back to Jesus. I met with him only once between that time and the opening out of our society at Shildon last year.

On Saturday, September 2, 1881, I went to Shildon, in accordance with resolution of quarter-day, to establish an interest in that little town. The prospect was anything but bright. The undertaking entailed great expense, and only two people had promised to unite with us. My heart was heavy and sad as I went to Shildon that afternoon. General Resurrection and Modern Science." hear; the infidels being there in large force.

My lecture was entitled, "The
A large company congregated to
Mr. Simpson fully resolved to

oppose, as he had ever regarded the doctrine of the Resurrection as one of the weakest points of Gospel teaching. The line of thought unfolded, the illustrations used, the information given, and the evidence adduced, overwhelmed him, so that he retired without saying a word, feeling pleased in his soul that so much could be said for a truth sceptics hold up to ridicule. On the Sunday he and his cluster of satellites were present, morning and night; the congregations were also large, and the interest intense. The following Sabbath brought immense crowds, the large hall being crammed to excess, and hundreds having to go away, after vainly struggling for admission. Again Mr. Simpson and his followers were present. The power of God was felt in the evening service especially, many crying for mercy. I now often met him, and we spoke on the points of difference between us with mutual respect. Acquaintance rose into intimacy, and intimacy ripened into friendship. I was enabled to meet many of his objections, and remove many of his doubts; and, to his honour be it said, that when any objection had been fairly met he gave it up frankly.

The infidels always coming to hear me, I began to be much agitated as to whether I should preach to them or to the common people, just as if no sceptic was present. When my mind was most disturbed, a person came to consult me about "the sin against the Holy Ghost." This person had been a sceptic, and the Spirit had awakened him through my poor labours; yet he was afraid that he had committed the unpardonable sin. I was thus led to read and reflect much on this question, the result being the conviction that this sin was any course of transgression that drove God's Spirit from a man, silenced the voice of conscience, and blinded the moral eye. The Jews must have arrived at this awful stage when they ascribed the miracles of Jesus to Satanic agency. At once I saw that infidelity will, if persisted in, lead to this sad result. Many facts occurred to my mind to validate the conclusion. I now determined to develop the argument, so as to warn the infidels of their danger. What a terrible sermon that was! The audience was in blazing excitement; some sneered, others shouted "Glory," and all shivered. One declaration sent a thrill of horror through the place. I said, "Some of you may ask me if I believe that anyone has sinned this sin? and I answer, Yes. I believe many have done it. I make bold to declare that there are thousands in this land who have sinned away the day of grace, and can no more be saved than the damned in hell." Many took warning that night, and came to Jesus. Mr. Simpson was convulsed with agony. He could neither eat nor sleep for some time. The impression never left him.

I lent him books to assist him. The two that did him most good were Isaac Taylor's "Transmission of Ancient Books," and Principal Dawson's "Creation according to Revelation and Science." On the 13th of last March I had to preach at Shildon, my intention being to preach on Judas. When I had finished praying, Mr. Simpson came in and sat before me. Something said, Change the subject; so I did. But what could I preach from? I turned over many leaves, then my eyes fell upon the words: "O Lord, I will follow Thee; but "—"That is it," I said, “and James shall have a but." I spoke after this manner: "There are some who have the infidel but; they would follow Jesus, but for the difficulties in the Bible. Now we will leave the Bible out of the question; we will talk man to man, and mind to mind. You glory in science, s do I; let us, then, be scientific, and appeal to facts. Now, if there was no Bible, you would be a sinner-this you know. We have all broken moral law, neither can we save ourselves. Could we make ourselves pure now and continue pure, the past would be against us. Jesus can save. This is a matter of fact, and, from observation, we know it. He has saved some of us, and

millions of others. If you are scientific you must accept our testimony, for no fact on earth is so well substantiated as that Jesus can save all who believe in Him. Yea, and you sceptics are aware of this truth. You can remember the time when you felt His saving power." Thus I went on, and presently I thought Mr. Simpson was touched. This inspired me with hope; and I went on, discharging volley after volley. At length his lips quivered, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Then I knew that the battle was gained. He would not decide that night. He went away very uneasy, and on the following week, the 22nd of March, 1882, he came back again to his Saviour. Great was the interest manifested in the event. People far and near rejoiced, while dismay fell upon the infidel camp. He soon set to work to undo the mischief of the past few years. He went among his sceptical friends, many of whom soon followed his example. His wife, his widowed mother, and a sister were soon induced to decide for the Master. The Church was roused to still greater vigour; splendid meetings we had; God was with us. I had preached one Sunday night, and two old infidels came up boldly to the penitent form. They found peace, when one of them said, "Friends, I have long sought peace, but have never found it till now. I have sought it in infidelity, in secularism, and in spiritualism; they have done me no good; but Jesus has saved me, bless His holy name!"

No one could doubt the change which had passed over Mr. Simpson. His countenance altered; he looked brighter, happier, holier. Our friends at Shildon, and, indeed, all over the circuit, were anxious to take advantage of the excitement to spread the Kingdom of Jesus, so that he was soon allowed to preach. God blessed his efforts; many came to hear, and souls were saved. Mr. Simpson was happy, and would talk of God's goodness hour after hour with tearful joy. His name was spreading far and wide.

My desire was to remove all the roots of his scepticism, and make him useful; hence I got him to my house, lent him books, talked scores of hours with him on religious themes. What a joy it was to meet with him! We banished all secular matters from our minds, and spoke only of what God had done for us, and what He could do for others. Never can I forget those sweet moments, and what a joy to feel that we shall meet again. Our hearts became knit together; we were of one heart and one mind; our natures were congenial to each other; we got together as often as possible, and never separated till compelled. We all have bright spots in our lives; we also have plenty of sorrow; but if ever I felt encouraged in my work it was when Mr. Simpson stood up on our quarter-day, and, in a voice broken by sobs, referred, amid the shouts of "Glory," "Hallelujah," to the instrument in God's hands of leading him back again to Christ. I felt amply rewarded for all the slander, misrepresentation, suspicion, and opposition it had been my lot to bear (and I have had a liberal share).

On October 3, 1882, he was knocked down on the line, seven waggons passing over him. His body was much mangled, one leg being completely severed. Yet he lived two hours afterwards, showing the strength of his constitution. Dr. Fielden and his assistant attended him home, but could do nothing for him. The doctor looked sad; he was concerned about the spiritual state of our brother, not having heard of his conversion. He asked Mr. Dalziel, the temperance missionary, to pray, and the prayer made reference to the happy event, and the doctor was overjoyed to learn the fact. I wish that we had more doctors like him.

Mr. Dalziel then asked Mr. Simpson if he believed in Jesus, and he answered, “Yes, He is mine and I am His. Glory!" A little after he said, “I am VOL. LXXXVI,

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