Whether he stopped at one bottle or not, I cannot tell; but late on
Saturday night, as he was going home, he was thrown from his horse and
killed. That was at the end of the eighth day.

Whether these dreams and visions were the cause or effect of the
people's sensitive state, I do not know; but certainly they were very
impressible, and even the cold and hardened amongst them were ready to
hear about the mysteries of the unseen world. I attributed this to the
spiritual atmosphere in which they were then living.


CHAPTER 12

Billy Bray, 1852.

After the events narrated in Chapter 10, and when all the people who
dwelt on the hill on which the church was built were converted, there
came upon the scene a very remarkable person, who had evidently been
kept back for a purpose. This was none other than the veritable and well
known "Billy Bray."* One morning, while we were sitting at breakfast, I
heard some one walking about in the hall with a heavy step, saying,
"Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" On opening the door, I beheld a
happy-looking little man, in a black Quaker-cut coat, which it was very
evident had not been made for him, but for some much larger body. "Well,
my friend," I said, "who are you?"

__________________________

* See "The King's Son; or, Life of Billy Bray," by F. W. Bourne.
___________________________