and had become so accustomed to the loud "Amens," that I found it very
dull to preach when there was no response. Prayer meetings which were
carried on in a quiet and formal manner seemed to me cold and heartless.
"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep"
(Ps. 107:23, 24). Some spiritual mariners never venture out of a calm
millpond, and rejoice in very quiet proceedings; they do not look like
rejoicing at all. They resemble the people who are going through a
formal duty, and, "like a painted ship upon a painted ocean," they are
never tossed. Most undeniable it is that many trying things happen in
the excitement of a storm.

I was hardened against criticism, and only wished that my criticizing
friends could show me a more effectual way of working, and a way in
which God's glory might be advanced, without giving offence.

The very remembrance of these times warms my heart as I write; and
though I do not know whether I am still young enough to enter into such
things in the same way, yet I am sure that the manifest presence of the
Lord, under any circumstances, would still stir and rejoice my spirit.
My friend Mr. Aitken used to rise above it all most majestically, and
shout as loud as the loudest. It was grand to see his great soul at full
liberty rejoicing in the Lord. He was quite at home in the noisiest and
stormiest meetings, and no doubt he thought me a promising disciple, and
a very happy one, too.

Oh, what tremendous scenes we witnessed whenever Mr. Aitken came to
preach at Baldhu. The church, which was built to hold six hundred, used
to have as many as fifteen hundred packed into it. Not only were the
wide passages crowded, and the chancel filled, even up to the communion