There are ceremonious bows that repel one like a cudgel.

Bovee.

188

Excess of ceremony shows want of breeding—that civility is best which excludes all superfluous formality.

189

The only sure things are those that have already happened.

190

LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.

Dr. Chalmers of Scotland, arrived in London, on the 13th of May, 1817, and on the following day preached in Surrey Chapel, the anniversary sermon for the London Missionary Society. Although the service did not commence till eleven o'clock, at seven in the morning the chapel was crowded to excess, and many thousands went off for want of room. He rose and gave out his text from 1 Cor. xiv, 22-25. He had not proceeded many minutes till his voice gradually expanded in strength and compass, reaching every part of the house and commanding universal attention. His sermon occupied about an hour and a half in the delivery. A gentleman wrote to a friend: "I have just heard and witnessed the most astonishing display of human talent that perhaps ever commanded hearing; all my expectations were overwhelmed in the triumph of it."

At an afternoon service he preached in the Scotch Church, in Swallow Street. On approaching the church, Dr. Chalmers and a friend found so dense a mass within, and before the building, as to give no hope of effecting an entrance by the mere force of ordinary pressure. Lifting his cane and gently tapping the heads of those who were in advance, Dr. Chalmers' friend exclaimed, "Make way there, make way please, for Dr. Chalmers." The sturdy Londoners refused to move, believing it was a ruse. Forced to retire, Dr. Chalmers retreated from the outskirts of the crowd, crossed the street, stood for a few moments gazing on the growing tumult, and had almost resolved altogether to withdraw, as access by any of the ordinary entrances was impossible. At last a plank was projected from one of the windows very near the pulpit, till it rested on an iron palisade, and the Doctor and others gained entrance. The impression produced by the service which followed, when all had at last settled down into stillness, was deeper than that made by any of those which preceded it.