The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920, 1913-10-22

Waddel (now spelled waddelD
While living here ne preached in a
/ Presbyterian church about one half
mile northeast of the present town
Of Gordonsville, called Belle Grove"
and which later became commonly
known as 'the church of the blind
preacher"
Near the beginning of the 9th CEN
tury, William Writ, the American jul
rist and author, was journeying
through the county of Orange. AS
/ he Travelled along one Sunday his
/ eye caught sight of a number of
! horses tied near a rulnous old house
not far from the radside. He knew
at once what IT meant. This was a
| meeting house" Moved In part "by
curiosity to hear the preacher Of such
a wilderness. the statesman stopped
and entered the old building.
| 1t was "the church of the blind
preacher" The old preacher himself
was in the pulpit. OF him, and of the
service. Mr.. Writ. writing IN the,
British Spy" says: ION entering,
was struck by his preternaturai ap-
pearance. He was a. tall and spare
old man. His hair. which was cover
ed with white cap, his shrivelled
hands. and his voice. were all shalt-
Ing under the influence of palsy,
and few minutes ascertained TO me
that he was blind"
MIR. Wfrt's Description of the Man
and OF the Service.
The first emotions which touched
my breast were those of mingled
pity and veneration. But an sacred
God. how soon were all my feelings
changed! The lips of Plato were
never more worthy of a prognostic
swarm of bees than were the lips Of
this holy man! 1t was the day of
the administration of the sacrament;
and his subject, of course, was the
passion of our Saviour / had heard
the subject handled thousand times.
had thought ii exhausted long ago,
Little did ] suppose that in the wild
woods of America I was to meet q
man whose eloquence would give to
this topic new and more sublime
pathos than ! had ever before wit
messed.
las he descended from the pulpit
to distribute the mystic symbols
there was a peculiar, q more than
human solemnity in his air and man
ner which made my blood run cold
and my whole frame to SILVER.
He Nen drew a picture Of the suf-
ferings of our Saviour; his trial be-
fore PLATE; his ascent up Calvary
his crucihxion and his death.
knew the whole history: but never
until then, had / heard the circum-
stances so selected, so arranged so
colored, II was new and / seemed
to hear IL for the first time in my life
His enunciation was so deliberate that
his voice treulbled on every sylla able
and every heart In the assembly
treTHhtet IN unison. Hts peculiar
phrases had that force OF description
that the original scene appeared to
be, for that moment, before our eyes
We saw the faces of the Jews: the
staring, frightful distortions of mall
ice and rage. We saw the buffet: my
soul kindled with flame of indigna.
ton, and my hands were invo1unta-
rily and conyulsively clenched. But
when he came TO touch oil the pa
thence, the forgiying meekness of our
Saviour: when ne drew 10 the life.
his blessed eyes streaming in tears to
heaven. mis- voice breathing to God a
soft and gentle prayer of pardon on
his enemies. Father. forgive them. |
for they know not what they do
the voice of the preacher. which had |
all along faltered grew fainter and |
fainter until his utterances being en- |
tirely obstructed by the force OF his |
feelings, he raised his handkerchie !
to his eyes and burst into a loud and |
irrepressible flood OF grief. The eff |
iEIt is inCpHEelFaptH. Inc WnGfG !
house resounded with the mingled |
groans and sobs and shrieks of the
congregation.
ut was some time before the tu-
mutt had subsidized SO far as to per-
init him to proceed. Indeed. judging i
by the usual. but faliacious standard /
of my own weakness. ] began to be
very uneasy for the situation OF the
preacher. For I could not conceive
~ y T. L.. - l.
dience down from the heights to
which he had wound them without !.
impairing the solemnity and dignity
Of his subject. or perhaps shocking /
them by the ahruptness of the fall
But no; the descent was as beautiful
and sublime as the elevation had been
rapid and enthusiastic,
The first sentence with which he
broke the awful silence was quota
like philosopher, but Jesus Christ
like a God,'
Il despair of giving INV idea of
the effect produced by this short SEN
.ence. unless you could perfectly con-
ceive the whole manner OF the man.
rs well as the peculiar crisis in the
discourse Never before did l com
pletely understand what Demosthenes
meant by laying such stress on
you the venerable hgure of the
preacher: his blindness constantly re-
,alling to your recollection old Ho-
ner, Ossian and Milton, and associ-
iting with his performance the mel
lncholy grandeur of their geniuses
7 ou are to imagine that you hear his
slow, solemn. we'll accented enuncia-
ion. and his voice of affecting, trem-
ping moody; you are to remember the
pitch of passion and enthusiasm to
which the congregation were raised I,
Ind then the few minutes OF porten-
.ous deathlike silence which reigned
the house, the preacher
his white handkerchief
rom his aged face {even yet wet
rom the recent torrent Of tears). and
iowly stretching forth the palsied
hand which holds 1t. begins the SEN
ence. Socrates died like a philoso-
,her'; then pausiug, raising his 9TH