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Updated: May 2, 2025
Their Commander-in-Chief, General Booth, presided a tall, thin, nervous man, who looked more like an old-fashioned Kentucky revivalist than an Englishman. His bright-eyed and comely wife, Mrs. Catharine Booth, was with him. She was a woman of remarkable intellectual force and spiritual character, as all must acknowledge who have read her biography.
And revivalist preachers, now as in the days of John the Baptist, seldom fail to warn their flocks to watch and pray, as the great day will steal upon them like a thief in the night, and cannot be long deferred in a world so wicked. This belief also associates itself with Barleycorn's second coming; so that the two events become identified at last.
Much of her apparel had slipped away from her in the fervours of revivalist anecdote, and while she hunted for gloves and reticule officiously helped by the younger girls Robert crossed over to Catherine. 'You lifted us on to your own high places! he said, bending down to her; 'I shall carry your story with me through the fells.
The deliberate reference to the revivalist fellow stung Canning like the flick of a glove in his face. "Dr. Vivian? He has not my disadvantage of laboring to save his affianced's name from everlasting disgrace." "Perhaps he doesn't find disgrace where you seem to look for it." "It is cheap to be prodigal with other men's belongings. What is this man to you?" "Hugo! Hugo!" broke from her.
Where I saw the gross soul of an overgrown suburban garden, inspired by the spirit of a vulgar, rich revivalist who loved to preach damnation, she saw this rush of pagan liberty and joy, this strange license of primitive flesh which, tainted by the other, produced the adulterated, vile result. Certain things, however, gradually then became apparent, forcing themselves upon me, willy-nilly.
"At last it's about your hearts, your hearts are immersed in the Sacred Tide." A man beside Gordon groaned and dropped upon his knees. A woman cried, "God! God! God!" A spindling, overgrown boy rose fumbling at his throat. "I can't breathe," he choked, "I can't " His face grew purplish, congested. The tumult swelled, directed, dominated, by the voice of the revivalist.
Before he had told her all that happened to him during the week touching gently on the poor Revivalist although his mother had a saving sense of humour, and was a quite wonderful mimic and saying nothing of his evening with St.
After it was all over each of us found that the other had been mighty near going up to the rail and joining the mourners. And another thing had occurred to each of us, too that is, what tremendous improvements there were possible in the way that amateur revivalist worked up his business. This stuck in our crops, and we figured on it all through the winter.
The appeals of the prophet and the revivalist, the Psalmist's "Taste and see," the Baptist's "Change your hearts," are all invitations to an alteration in the direction of desire, which would turn our instinctive energies in a new direction and begin the domestication of the human soul for God.
But of a heritage that may expand gradually, he had no conception: he hoped to come to Culture suddenly, much as the Revivalist hopes to come to Jesus. Those Miss Schlegels had come to it; they had done the trick; their hands were upon the ropes, once and for all. And meanwhile, his flat was dark, as well as stuffy. Presently there was a noise on the staircase.
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