A few young men had been attending a religious meeting at Findochty, a village about two miles east of Portessie, and about fifteen miles west of Banff. So much excited were they, that their employer shut up his workshop -- a Cooper's—and now the greatest excitement is going on. A meeting, which commenced on Friday evening at six o'clock lasted till four o'clock next morning and was resumed at ten A.M. When I called on Saturday, about one P.M., a scene presented itself to my view truly wonderful. Young people stretched out on forms labouring under strange sensations might be seen—indeed, were seen—supported in some cases by weeping parents or distressed brothers. One young man held.
From 'The Revival Newspaper,' Volume ii, p60
At Findochty, I understand that, with but few exceptions, the whole village may be said to have found the truth.
From 'The Revival Newspaper,' Volume ii, p102.
"The next sea-town is called Findochty, about two miles from Portknockie. At the first three meetings nothing particular took place, but in the fourth, the Spirit's power came down as in the former town, and the Lord saved many souls. Next morning I had another meeting of about two hundred, and again the power of God came down in an extraordinary way. About three hundred met again in the evening, and when I was speaking a woman cried out for mercy. In a short time nearly all present were doing the same. My voice was completely drowned. I never saw such a scene in all my life. It was heart-rending to hear the cries of the great numbers who felt that their souls were lost. I question if some of the dear people could have cried louder though they had been in hell, but God gave the witness to many souls that evening.
December 1861. The day following I went to Findochty, where the same power was manifested. I could not describe the scene there, as broken-hearted penitents, many back-sliders returned to the Lord, who healed their backsliding, and the people of the Lord were weeping for joy. This continued for a day and a night, out and out; but I slipped quietly out of the meeting, leaving the people with the Master himself, and went to Portknockie.
From 'James Turner,' by E McHardie.