The trumpet blast of the awakening was Howel Harris. He was a
Breconshire peasant, of strong passion which became sanctified by a
life-long struggle, of devouring ambition which he nearly succeeded
in taming to a life of intense service to God. Many bitter things
have been said about him, but nothing more bitter than he has said
about himself in the volumes of prayers and recriminations he wrote
to torture his own soul, and to goad himself into harder work. The
fame of his eloquence filled the land, and districts expected his
appearance anxiously, as in old times they expected Owen Glendower.
Howel Harris was, however, no political agitator. He had an
imperious will, and he wished to rule his brethren; he was aggressive
and military in spirit; God to him was the Lord of Hosts; he preached
the gospel of peace in the uniform of an officer of the militia, and
he sent many of his converts to fight abroad in the battles of the
century. He had a love of organisation; he established at Trevecca
what was partly a religious community, and partly a co-operative
manufacturing company. But, wherever he stood to proclaim the wrath
of God, no shower of stones or condemnation of minister or justice
could make those who heard him forget him, or believe that what he
said was wrong.

If I were writing for antiquarians, and not for those who read
history in order to see why things are now as they are, I would write
details--important and instructive--about the Church of the
eighteenth century, and about the congregations of Dissenters which
the seventeenth century handed over to the eighteenth to persecute
and despise. The Independents and Baptists sturdily maintained their
principles of religious liberty, but they found the century a stiff-
necked one, and their congregations were content with merely