The Sun.
London, England, 1860-12-21 00:00:00

THE WORD IN SEASON.

"Here was a popular preacher of the right sort; one
really mighty to rouse souls out of a state of lethargy and
dulness.

"Amongst the various anecdotes, some striking, some
affecting, which he poured forth out of his cornucopia over
the assembly, I particularly remember the following,which
he related in the most admirable manner :

" Some years ago, one of the most remarkable of the
so-called street preachers in London was a man named
Rowland Hill. One day the rich and worldly Lady Erskine
came driving in her carriage, across the very square where
he was preaching. Seeing the crowd assembled round him
she ordered her carriage to stop, and inquired what was
going forward, and was told that it was Rowland Hill who
was preaching to the people. She had heard speak of him,
and, curious to hear him herself, she alighted from her car-
riage, and, accompanied by her servants, made her way into
the crowd, which immediately opened for the elegant lady.
And at once, without suffering himself to be disturbed by
her presence, Rowland exclaimed—
" M y friends, here comes a soul which is to be put up
fur auction.'

" The people were startled, and some laughed. ' This
rich, grand lady to be sold by auction 1' Lady Erskine
advanced nearer, and Rowland Hill continued
"' I see three buyers abou' to bid for her. The first is
called the World. ' Well, what wilt thou give, 0 World,
for this soul ?' The World replies, 'Pleasures, ornaments,
flatteries, festivities for every day of her life.' All plea-
sures, and flatteries, and festivities will come to an end,
whilst this soul will on, because it is immortal I It is
too little which thou offerest, Q World, and thou canst not
have her.' Now comes the second bidder, it is the Devil
' How much, Satan, wilt thou bid for this soul?' All the
power of the world and the glory thereof.' But all the
power of the world and its glory will pass away, whilst this
soul will last on. Thou canst not have her, Satan, for
thou offerest too little !' The third bidder presents himself.
Oh, that is the Lord Jesus ! I expected no less of Thee, 0
Lord ! What, then, dost Thou bid for this soul ?" My
peace in this life, and after it eternal bliss I' 'Take her,
Lord, take her ! She is thine, for a higher price no one can
offer

" Berthollet added, that Lady Erskine was so affected
by these words that she made there a profession of the
truth—she abandoned her worldly life of vanity, and
became cne of the principal supporters of the English
church."

THE MOUNTAIN MEMORIAL.
"And the hero of the scene—hast thou, my R. ever
heard speak of Mont Blanc ? In that case thou hast
that it is a snow-covered mountain of Savoy, near 15,000
feet high ; and thou hast in spirit—if thou hast not seen
Mont Blanc in reality—beheld an icy giant raise his crown
towards the stars. But from Geneva and the district
around, from which the most beautiful view of the giant
mountain is obtained, it seems merely like an immense
snow hill, with many ter aces. Its mass, its dazzling
whiteness, its soft, rounded form, rivet the glance with an
imposing power, which has, at the same time, a something
tranquillising and agreeable in it, especially when, in an
evening, the giant is tinted by the light of the descending
sun. The beautiful profile of Napoleon which is seen por-
trayed in the highest outlines of the mountain, and which
it is impossible to avoid seeing when you have once become
aware of it, adds also to the grandeur of its physiognomy.
From the Quai Mont Blanc, and from Rousseau's island,

one sees it, together with the whole chain of the Savoy
Alps, very perfectly.
" I spent yesterday afternoon and evening on Rousseau's
island, sitting in and wandering about the lovely groves
around his statue, contemplating the Alps. They stood
out splendidly in the golden sunset, especially Napoleon's
image, which was illumined by its beams. They seemed
to me to shine with the peace of God upon the horo.
" He soundly sleeps on his bed of snow,
A calmer the world hath none—
He will die no more, he hath struck his last blow,
And his sentinel watch is the sun I"