Memoirs of William Miller - Sylvester Bliss

These humble ambassadors of Christ, and other
pious relatives, often visited Mr. Miller’s house at
Poultney; and, although he received them with
affection and respect, and entertained them in the
most generous manner, he was in the habit of
imitating, with the most ludicrous gravity, their
words, tones of voice, gestures, fervency, and even
the grief they might manifest for such as himself,
to afford a kind of entertainment for his skeptical
associates, which they seemed to enjoy with a
particular relish.
Little did he then think, that he was measuring
to these faithful men what was to be measured to
him again, pressed down, shaken together, and
running over. And probably it was not known to
him, that these praying men had already expressed
the hope -- almost a prophecy -- that their prayers
would be answered, and that he would some day be
engaged in perpetuating the work they were
endeavoring to advance.
There was more than one heart that was almost
inconsolably afflicted by this conduct of Mr.
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