swallow it. Or native suddenly blanches, or fiery colours shoot across the ground. Or the shades of deceased relatives approach him, their faces bearing the traces of fearful sufferings. Or the dark walls of the sleeper's room suddenly become illuminated, and on them, in a yellow mist, he sees instruments of torture and a confused mass of snakes and devils. Surely, Christianity has turned our globe into a dreadful abode, by everywhere raising the crucifix and thus denoting the earth as the place “where the righteous are tortured to death." And when the eloquence of somegreat penitentiary preacher for once disclosed all the secret suffering of the individual, the agonics of the "closet"; when, for instance, a Whitefield preached, “like a dying ran to the dying," now bitterly crying, now loudly and passionately stamping his feet, amid the most piercing and surprising sounds and without any fear of turning the whole force of his attack upon one single individual present and excluding him in an awful manner from the community—then, each time,the earth scored really to be transformed into the "field of misery." Then one could see large, assembled crowds behave as in a fit of madness; many in convulsions of fear, others lying there unconscious, motionless; others again violently trembling or, for hours, rending the air with their piercing cries. Everywhere loud panting, as of people who, half suffocated, were gasping for breath. “And indeed," so says an eye
