morning; then to ride from 10 to 20 miles to preach in the afternoon, and to return home the same evening. In many places he met with great opposition: frequently was he hooted at and buffeted: frequently was he in personal danger from the fury of mobs and persecutors: yet he braved all this for the love that he felt for the gospel of Jesus Christ. And as he met with extraordinary opposition from the ignorance and brutality of the people in many places, so on the other hand, he met with extraordinary support and success. He formed very many societes, from persons who were awakened and converted under his ministry, which have since become large and flourishing churches. And there are few towns, or even large villages, in Cheshire, Staffordshire, Derbyshire, the south of Lancashire, or the west of Yorkshire, where there are not, to this day, many living witnesses of the energy and divine power which attended his word. And hundreds who died in the triumph of faith, and had gone before, were ready to welcome him to the shores of blessedness, whose first impressions were received under his preaching. By some, this zeal may be deemed unnecessary and excessive; but those who are disposed to censure, should recollect that the darkness and ignorance of the people was extreme and excessive. There were pious clergymen in the church; but their usefulness was confined to particular parishes. There were also many pious ministers among the Dissenters; but their labours also were confined to very remote corners; so that, with respect to the generality of the people, it might justly be said, that darkness had covered the land, and gross darkness the people. To prove these observations, many instances might be mentioned which occurred in the life and exertions of the deceased. One anecdote, selected from many, may not be deemed tedious. It will shew at once the extraordinary ignorance, and the persecuting spirit of the people; the uncommon unction which attended the preaching of the deceased; and the provi dential dealings of God towards those who received him favourably.

The father of the deceased being a tenant of Sir William Du-, kinfield, and his brother also farming the Dukinfield-Hall estate, he went frequently thither to hold meetings, and to preach. Great crowds attended without any interruption, and among others, some persons from Oldham, whose minds became enlightened. These earnestly solicited him to go to Oldham to preach in the street. The inhabitants of that town were uncommonly rude and uncultivated, and had violently driven away every Methodist Preacher who had come thither. The deceased knew all this, as well as the general character of the people. But considering VOL. XXXIX, JANUARY, 1816.

*B*

this invitation as a call of God, and having confidence that his God would deliver him from the power even of these lions, he promised to go on the following Sabbath. The mob, encouraged by the principal people of the town, were deternrined he should not preach; and that if he attempted it, he should be put into the dungeon, which, in consideration of his being a respectable person, they had the politeness to have swept out and furnished with clean straw for his accommodation. A number of his friends from Dukinfield and Ashton went with him, expecting serious opposition. They arrived before noon, and when the service of the church was ended, he asked a man to let him stand at his door. The man swore if he came thither he would cleave his brains. He then went to another man's door to ask the same favour, who instantly replied, "Yea, and welcome." Here, having mounted a four-footed bench, prepared for his pulpit, he gave out a hymn and prayed, and the people were all quiet. But when he was about to address the congregation, a numerous mob came up, headed by the constables and churchwardens. These demanded, with great vehemence, By what authority do you come hither? He replied, By what authority do you ask me? They said, We are the constables and churchwardens of Oldham: we do not want any of your preaching here. The mob cried out, "Pull him down, pull him down, and we will take him away." He then, addressing himself to the constables, said, "You have no authority to pull me down: I have authority both from God and man. I am protected by the laws of my country, and if you pull me down you must take the consequence. What I desire of you is, that you will hear me patiently, and if you have any thing to object I will answer your objections afterwards." The constables then required him to produce his authority. He replied, "Gentlemen, I am not obliged to do this to you, but to satisfy the people, I will produce it." Having then read his licence to preach, he said, "This is my protection, let any man lay hands on me who dare. And since you are the constables, and are sworn to keep the peace, I charge you not only to keep the peace yourselves, but also to take care that the king's peace be not broken in your presence, as you will be answerable before your betters on another day." This bold and unexpected challenge quite stunned them, and they stood looking at one another not knowing what to do, while the preacher gave out his text, "Now, therefore. we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." The preacher requested their serious attention, and had not proceeded far in his discourse before one of the constables, turning pale, began to tremble: the word had reached his heart.

The other seeing this, seemed filled with rage, yet durst not lay hands on the preacher; but after some time he contrived to turn aside the bench on which he stood. The preacher stepped to his feet, and being still on high ground, went on with his discourse, till at length this constable and a few of his adherents pushed him among the people. The mob now began to quarrel among themselves, some being for, and some being against, his continuing to preach. He and his friends, however, walked away quietly from that place, and as they went along the street, a grave looking old man came with his hat in his hand, and said, "Sir, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but if you please you shall preach in my house and welcome." The house was instantly filled with people, and the preacher finished his discourse without further interruption. Under this sermon, it pleased God that the old man, his wife, and a daughter were all deeply awakened, and from that day they began to seek the Lord. A licence was obtained for this house, and the Manchester preachers came thither till they obtained a large room; and afterwards a chapel was erected for their accommodation.

Some years after this, the deceased had been preaching in the chapel, and was holding a love feast, when he related the circumstances of his first coming to Oldham, and contrasted the reception he then met with, to their present comfortable and flourishing condition. When he had finished speaking, a woman stood up and said, "I am a daughter of the old man who received you into his house: my father, and mother, and sister are dead; and thanks be to God, they all died happy in the Lord, and I am left a living witness of his pardoning mercy." A person then rose and said, "I am the husband of that old man's daughter, and I can also rejoice in God my Saviour." After him, an elderly man rose and said, "I am the man that first gave you liberty to stand at my door, and now, blessed be God, I enjoy a sense of his favour, which is better than life." Some time after this, the deceased was requested to go to Oldham, to preach a funeral sermon for a woman whose name he had no recollection of. Upon inquiry, it appeared that she was a little girl at the time of his preaching as above related, and was so much affected under the sermon, that in the simplicity of her heart, having heard that she ought to tread in the steps of the righteous, she followed him down the street, literally treading in his footsteps. God rewarded her simplicity, and caused her to grow up in his fear; she became an eminently pious Christian, and died in the triumph of faith. Such was a specimen of his early success.

(To be continued.)

1

DIVINITY.

To the Editor of the Methodist Magazine.

REV. SIR,

As truth loses no part of its value by the lapse of time, I doubt not that the following Discourse on Contentment, written by the learned, pious, and orthodox Bishop PATRICK, will, if favoured with a place in your loyal and orthodox Miscellany, be highly acceptable to your readers. Reason and religion, light and heat are so happily blended throughout the whole of this discourse, as to render it equally interesting to the unlearned Christian, who reads little more than his Bible, and the pious man of genius and learning who is a general reader.

With due respect for your labours, both from the pulpit and the press, all of which are highly calculated to promote the best interests of mankind, I am, Rev. Sir, Your's sincerely,

1815.

A CONSTANT READER.

"Be content with such things as ye have."-Heb. xiii. 5. SOMETHING to trouble and molest us we must always expect, and not imagine that we can find eva Biov aλumov, some one sort of life, void of all grievances and vexations. We do but lose our time and labour if we go in the search of any such state; whether we fancy it to be in the country private life, or in the unmarried, or even in that of great princes and kings; For, as Plutarch (whose words these are) hath observed out of Menander, εςι συγγενές τι λυπη και βιΘ, there is a certain kind of kindred be tween life and trouble. You cannot divide it from the delicate life; the honourable hath its company; and it grows old with men of meaner condition.

But God hath not left us without a remedy: that is our comfort. And it chiefly lies in divine faith, and a heavenly hope which springs from thence; and in a great love and gratitude to God, and an hearty affection for all mankind.

But besides those general rules which have been mentioned, there are certain particular advices, that are not unworthy the consideration of those who would live quietly in this world, and will tend very much to make their passage through it more easy, less offensive to others, and consequently less troublesome to themselves. I will briefly propound them to you at this time; and conclude them with a direction or two which are of the largest use.

1. The first is, To have something still to do. For though idleness seem easy, and to have nothing to trouble it, it lays

upon us a great burthen of unquiet thoughts, and breeds a number of vexatious desires. If our condition therefore leads us neither to public nor private business, let us employ our time in honest studies. That is Seneca's rule, I remember, to a man who affects not public employment, or cannot have it, nor finds much to do in domestic affairs; In studia conferas, quod subdureris officiis; bestow that on study which thou takest away from business. By this means a man shall be, Nec sibi gravis, nec aliis supervacuus, neither burthensome to himself, nor impertinent to others. He will invite many to his friendship; the best persons will love his company. For even an obscure virtue cannot always lie hid; it gives some signs of itself, which will make it honoured and courted.

And here it will not be amiss to subjoin, that the very same. rule is to be observed which was given before concerning the desire of riches; not to affect too much of them. "Give me neither poverty nor riches, but feed me with food-convenient for me," is the prayer of Agur, Prov. xxx. 8, which the gentile wisdom conspires with in these words, "The best measure of money is that which neither falls so low as poverty, nor is very far removed from it."* And by the same measure we should govern ourselves, say they, in our studies. Many books are a trouble. Like variety of meats they burthen the stomach or breed diseases, but do not give much nourishment. Or like a man that is always in travel from place to place; he hath many inns, but no friends, and few acquaintance.+ A multitude of books distracts men's minds, and therefore when thou canst not read all that thou hast, it is enough to have all that thou readest. It is a sign of a squeamish stomach to be tasting every thing. Read those that are approved. And if thou wouldst turn aside from one to another, return to the first again, by which thou hast profited. And be sure, saith he, to provide thyself of something every day which will serve as a remedy against poverty, against the fear of death, against the rest of the plagues of human life. And when thou runnest over many things, Unum excerpe, quod illo die concoquas, pick out some one thing to digest and Concoct that day. But I intend not to insist long upon these advices, there being many of them, and therefore let us pass to the next, which is this,

2. Let us never attempt any thing in our enterprizes, but what is of good report and praiseworthy. This I find recorded in the life of a famous person, that he was wont constantly to comfort himself in this, Quod nihil tentasset, non laudabile, that he had pever assayed any thing but what was laudable. In this, if a

*Seneca, cap. 8. de Tranq.

+ Id. Epist. 2

Gassend. in vita Peireskii.