For some nine months of the year New Quay, in Cardiganshire, like its namesake in Cornwall, lies secluded and undisturbed from the inland, facing the grey storms of the Atlantic. In the summer time its children come home, with many others that have discovered it, and count the fifteen miles’ van journey from the railway station as more to its credit than not. Here, last February, among a group of Christian Endeavourers, the Dove of the Sevenfold Gifts found rest for the sole of her foot. The Rev. Joseph Jenkins had been to a convention at Llandrindod the previous summer, and, with many others, had been made by the very warmth of the convention to feel more keenly the coldness of the air of ordinary church life. Many who were present renewed the covenant of prayer; and for weary months there seemed to be no result. But everything suddenly changed when a young woman, one Sunday morning in last February, tremblingly stood up to bear her own personal testimony to her love for Jesus Christ. The quiet village by the sea became strangely moved —- as of yore a fishing-village by the Galilean Lake might have been; the news spread gently abroad; but for weeks and months there was no sign of more than a local awakening. Then God directed Evan Roberts to Blaenanerch — where the fire of 1859-60 had burned fervently and lingered long— and, at another conference (or solemn consideration of the spiritual state of the Churches, “the hand of the Lord was there upon” him.