The loudest cries were for Mr. Cutwater, who stood forth--a weak,
stooping, half-halting, little man, with a limp necktie, and
trousers puffy at the knees--but with honest use of them, let me
say. It is quite credible that if Dr. Watts's assertion be true
that--

"Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees,"

that arch-enemy was unusually perturbed when Ezekiel Cutwater was
upon his. On these he had borne manly contests with evil. Two
things--yea, three--were rigid in Ezekiel's creed; fire would
never have burned them out of him: hatred of Popery, contempt of
Anglican priestcraft and apostolic succession, and adhesion to
the dogma of adult baptism and total immersion. Whoso should not
join with him in these let him be Anathema Maranatha.

His eye kindled as he looked at the seething audience. "Sir,"
said he, "I beg to move an amendment to the motion of the noble
lord. (Cheers.) That motion proposes to transfer to the care of
the Established Church this tender and unconscious infant
(bending over Ginx's baby), just snatched from the toils of a
kindred superstition. (Oh, oh, hisses and cheers.) I withdraw
the expression; I did not mean to be offensive. (Hear.) This is
a grand representative meeting--not of the English Church, not of
the Baptist Church, not of the Wesleyan Church--but of
Protestantism. (Cheers and Kentish fire.) In such an assembly
is it right to propose any singular disposition of a
representative infant? This is now the adopted child, not of