mental moods. A true grammar of spiritual assent has yet to be written; and when that has been fairly executed by some competent investigator of psychological phenomena like Professor Bain, for example, there will be nothing startling or abnormally significant in the experience of the pastor of the Metropolitan Tabernacle. The element of mystery will inevitably be eliminated, and evangelical conversions will come perchance to be classified as a sort of measles or smallpox of the intellect.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon was born at the village of Kelvedon, in Essex, in June, 1834. Like so many other families who have left their mark on the religious life of England, the Spurgeons are the descendants of pious Continental refugees. Driven from the Netherlands by the persecutions of Alva, they settled in Essex, and produced a line of pastors—each of them remarkable in his own way—which has remained almost without a break until now. Preaching has become quite a hereditary occupation or passion with the Spurgeons. In the phraseology of the sects, "They have never wanted a man to stand before the Lord in the service of the sanctuary." Mr. Spurgeon's grandfather, James Spurgeon, was for over half a century pastor of the Independent Church at Stambourne, in Essex. "Like Luther," says his grandson in an article in "The Sword and the Trowel," "he had a vivid impression of the reality and personality of the great enemy, and was accustomed to make short work with his suggestions."
An extraordinary narrative follows, which I fear must be ranked with "contemptible superstitions." He had been converted under a particular tree in a wood; and the Devil, appearing to him in a dream, threatened
