on the Sabbath for a year afterward. The effect of Whitefield's eloquence upon Benjamin Franklin, the calm rationalist philosopher, is a striking indication of what must have been borne in upon the minds of others. It seems that interspersed with rebirth through saving grace Whitefield from the very outset put his Orphan House to the fore.

"I did not approve of the design," said Franklin, “but as Georgia was then destitute of materials and workmen and it was proposed to send them from Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought it would have been better to have built the house at Philadelphia and brought the children to it. This I advised, but he was resolute in his first project, rejected my counsel and I, therefore, refused to contribute.

"I happened, soon after, to attend one of his sermons in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften and concluded to give the copper; another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that and determined me to give the silver, and he finished so admirably that I emptied my pocket into the collector's dish, gold and all."

At this same sermon Franklin tells of a member of his club who, aware of possible susceptibility, had taken the precaution to attend with empty pockets. Overwhelmed at the climax, he applied to a neighbor, a placid Quaker, evidently the only one present not caught with the tide, to lend him some money for a gift.

"At any other time, friend Hopkins, I would lend to thee freely," was the reply, "but not now, for thee seems to me to be out of thy right senses."

Whitefield, inwardly strengthened by this initial success, pushed on to New York. On the way he preached at Neshaminy, the site of the Log College of the Tennents that afterwards became Princeton University, New Brunswick and other New Jersey towns. He joined himself in spirit with William and Gilbert Tennent and their patriarchal father and Samuel Blair who were to be his collaborators and "waterers of the seed he planted in the wilder

At New York, his own church was closed to him by the Commissary and it is recorded that he was disappointed with the results attained in the Rev. Mr. Pemberton's Presbyterian church in Wall Street. It was not until Whitefield's return in the fall of 1740 that New York really "awoke" at his bidding. Back through Philadelphia, with scores following him out of that city, Whitefield went southward to erect his Orphan House in Georgia.

Across Maryland and Virginia he preached to immense congregations. At Charleston, South Carolina, began the hostility of Commissary Garden which only grew more bitter in later years but the Independent Church was opened to Whitefield and great numbers of people wept under the conviction laid upon them. They even drew the preacher back from his boat when he was departing and had another sermon on the shore.

The Rev. Josiah Smith, pastor of the Independent Church, at this time wrote a stirring defense of Whitefield that stands out against the criticism that followed, especially in New England.

"How awfully did he discharge the artillery of heaven upon us!" read the account, "pointing the arrows of the Almighty at the hearts of sinners while he poured the

balm upon the wounds of the contrite. So Saint Paul would look and speak in a pulpit!"

In another visit to Charleston Whitefield put the Last Judgment in nautical terms for an audience of seafaring men. His pulpit became the deck of a ship overwhelmed by a tempest.

"Our masts are gone!" he shouted amid the storm he had stirred up. "The ship is on her beam-ends! What next? What next?"

"The long-boat!" the mariners spontaneously replied. "Take to the long-boat!"

This maritime note in evangelism had an echo in the succeeding century when singing thousands joined Ira Sankey in throwing out his lifeline. Again it came in the moving hymn of P. P. Bliss-"Let the Lower Lights Be Burning, Send a Gleam Across the Wave!" And yet again in Charles H. Gabriel's "Sail On! Sail On!"

From Charleston, Whitefield went by boat to Savannah where, on March 25, 1740, he laid the first brick of the Orphan House, naming it Bethesda, or "House of Mercy." Already forty children were being cared for by Mr. Habersham in a hired house, and sixty workmen also had to be fed. Whitefield turned to the North for needed funds, preaching twice and three times a day as he travelled for the next two months.

Renewing the revival in Philadelphia, he saw a church formed of his converts from the open fields with Gilbert Tennent as pastor. Exhausted by the heat upon his journeys he had to be lifted thrice a day into the saddle, but he gloried in it, telling of the singing as his party rode through the woods and of the fires by night to keep away wild beasts. On June 5, he got back to Savannah with