supply, with flesh, nerves, and sinews quivering under them, was omitted.
The perspiration ran in streams from the face of the preacher; his eyes
rolled, his lips were covered with foam, and every feature had the deep
expression of horror it would have borne, had he, in truth, been gazing at
the scene he described. The acting was excellent. At length he gave a
languishing look to his supporters on each side, as if to express his
feeble state, and then sat down, and wiped the drops of agony from his
brow.

"The other two priests arose, and began to sing a hymn. It was some
seconds before the congregation could join as usual; every upturned face
looked pale and horror-struck. When the singing ended, another took the
centre place, and began in a sort of coaxing, affectionate tone, to ask
the congregation if what their dear brother had spoken had reached their
hearts? Whether they would avoid the hell he had made them see? 'Come,
then!' he continued, stretching out his arms towards them, 'come to us,
and tell us so, and we will make you see Jesus, the dear gentle Jesus, who
shall save you from it. But you must come to him! You must not be ashamed
to come to him! This night you shall tell him that you are not ashamed of
him; we will make way for you; we will clear the bench for anxious sinners
to sit upon. Come, then! come to the anxious bench, and we will show you
Jesus! Come! Come! Come!'

"Again a hymn was sung, and while it continued, one of the three was
employed in clearing one or two long benches that went across the rail,
sending the people back to the lower part of the church. The singing
ceased, and again the people were invited, and exhorted not to be ashamed
of Jesus, but to put themselves upon 'the anxious benches,' and lay their
heads on his bosom. 'Once more we will sing,' he concluded, 'that we may
give you time.' And again they sung a hymn.