Doctor Maclaren is at his best. I doubt whether he ever preached a better sermon than the one he delivers at this meeting. He warns his brethren that there is danger ahead, that false theories are creeping into their creeds, that it will never do to cut loose from the “old moorings.” He says in substance: “Brethren, the cold winds from the icy caves of Socinianism are chilling our blood and benumbing our limbs. We boast of becoming liberal-minded and broad. We should not forget, however, that broad streams are shallow, and that narrow ones are deep. Their currents are apt to be swift enough to cut up the mud and wash out the riff-raff from the channel, leaving a smooth, solid rock bed. God’s Word may lead us into deep water, but it will never leave us without a solid foundation. There is such a thing as being broader than wise, and wiser than good.” For more than an hour his audience of three thousand persons is under his magic power. At times they are breathless. The Doctor plays upon the fibres of men’s hearts like a skillful musician upon the strings of his harp. He strikes any chord—every chord—he pleases. The audience can neither resist laughter nor suppress tears. Every heart is pierced by the orator’s fiery glance, and thrilled by his matchless eloquence. As Goethe said of Herder, “He preaches like a God.”
The enthusiasm of the meeting reaches its zenith Wednesday afternoon, when the Right Hon. John Bright delivers an address on “Sunday-schools.” The excitement is simply intense. One round of applause follows another until the very walls of the building are made to ring with glad huzzas. Then those who can not gain entrance to the immense hall take up the cry, and send it ringing through the streets of the city. The excitement really becomes painful. Mr. Bright is quite old and feeble—his head is white as cotton, still he is a perfect master of assemblies. As an orator, he is much after the style of the late Brooklyn divine.
One touching incident must be related. Mr. Bright stands before the audience motionless, until silence is restored. He then calls Mr. Aldis to him. As the two venerable men stand side by side facing the audience, with their hands on each other’s shoulders, Mr. Bright relates the following incident: “I first met Mr. Aldis fifty-four years ago. We were then just entering upon the duties of life. On the day of our meeting, each of us delivered an address to a large assembly. Mr. Aldis was my senior. He spoke first, and I second. After the speaking was over, he took me to one side. He said that he saw in me powers that should be developed. He told me how to develop those powers. In a word, he lectured me on public speaking. This, ladies and gentlemen, was my first and last lesson in elocution.” Then, turning to his old teacher, he continued: “Mr. Aldis, if I have accomplished anything in life, and especially as a public speaker, it is due, at least in part, to your kindly counsels. We met first fifty-four years ago; this is our second meeting; our third will be in Heaven.”
The meeting has just closed. It was an unequivocal success. The arrangements were simply perfect. No weak plank was put in the platform. Every speaker was true and tried, and everything passed off with an eclat that is pleasing to contemplate. A daily paper, in speaking of the meeting, says: “The Baptists were seen at their best, and they are justly proud that it was a very good best.”
These English Baptists have been exceedingly kind and courteous to me. I was entertained by Hon. John S. Hudson, Mayor of the city. It seemed that Mr. Hudson and family could not do enough for their American guest. Their kindness will never be forgotten.
CHAPTER IX.
A SOJOURN IN ENGLAND AND ON TO WALES.