he Holy Ghost, and his bat-like fear of light.
His Man-God seemed to be the keeper of a mad-house, rather than the informing Spirit of all spirits.
After finishing his discourse, Mr. G. sang a prayer, in a tone of mingled shout and whine, and then requested his audience to sit a while in devout meditation.
For one, I passed the interval in praying for him, that the thick film of self-complacency might be removed from the eyes of his spirit, so that he might no more degrade religion.
Mr. Hague is of the Baptist persuasion, and is very popular with his own sect.
He is small, and carries his head erect; he has a high and intellectual, though not majestic, forehead; his brows are lowering and, when knit in indignant denunciation, give a thunderous look to the countenance, and beneath them flash, sparkle, and flame,—for all that may be said of light in rapid motion is true of them,—his dark eyes.
Hazel and blue eyes with their purity, steadfastness, subtle penetration and radiant