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done long ago; I know a deal better than I do. brought up well, no mistake; but I was giddy, and went after the red-coats, and married an ungodly man, and now I am suffering for it."
"Dear woman," I said, "you may thank God for hedging up your path. He might have given you over to prosperity and a false happiness, or left you altogether. Thank God that it is not worse with you; and give Him your heart. Do you believe that the Lord Jesus died for you?" She would not speak. Then I turned to the other, who was also crying, and said, "Do you believe?"
"I did once," she said, in a dejected tone; "but I have gone back from everything."
By this time their tea was ready, so I refreshed them with it; and after that we resumed our conversation and united in prayer. They both gave their hearts to God. I found that they lived not far off, so I had the opportunity of seeing them from time to time, and was able to instruct and cheer them on their way. I can see now how God was speaking to me through these women; but somehow I did not hear or recognize His voice then.
About this time, my dear wife became very prostrate in health and spirits—so much so, that we felt anxious about her. I went to a famous physician, who was in the neighbourhood, and asked him to come and see her. He did so, and after careful examination, said that there was really nothing the matter more than that she was one of those persons who could not live in that limestone town in the summer. He said, "She will be perfectly well if you take her away into the country. You must do this at once, for the longer she remains here, the weaker she will be." He refused to take any fee, and said he would send a carriage at two o'clock, and that we must be ready to start by that time. This was more easily said than done; for where could I
IN THE COUNTRY.
take the children, or how could I leave them at home? However, as the doctor was very peremptory, we prayed about it, and considered how we were to accomplish the task.
At this critical moment a friend arrived in his carriage, and said he had driven in from the country to bring some relatives of his to the train, and did not care to go back alone. "Would one of us, or both, take pity on him, and give him our company?" As soon as he heard of our position he greatly rejoiced, and said, “Come, all of you; I have plenty of room!" He took the invalid, with some of the children. I shut up the house, and followed with the others and the nurse, in the fly, which duly arrived at two o'clock. By five o'clock we were all out in the green fresh country, and our patient was already revived, and walking about the garden.
There happened to be a farm-house vacant, which we took, and removing some of the furniture, made it comfortable for the present. This we called "home" for a little time during my unsettled state.
A Mission to the North.
HEN my family were all comfortably settled and surrounded by kind friends, I went off to the north of England, on a visit to a clergyman, who had invited me. He had already suffered for doing this on a previous occasion, in the diocese of Oxford; where the bishop took away his licence, because he had me to preach for him. The real cause of offence was, that there was a revival in the parish; and complaint was made to the bishop, that people were kept up till "all hours of the night, howling and praying." His lordship sent forthwith for my friend's licence; 1 advised him to send it, saying, "He will be sure to return it to you; but perhaps with a reprimand." Instead of this, the bishop kept it, and said that he would countersign his testimonials to go to another diocese. My friend was at first disgusted and disposed to rebel; but instead of this, he bore the treatment patiently; and went to another position and charge at G, in the north of England.
Thither, nothing afraid, he invited me to come. In this part of the country I found a hearty lively people, some
AT EDWARD'S GRAVE.
thing like the Cornish. Here I soon regained my spirits, and got to work in right earnest.
In this place a revival began at once; and every day we had people crying for mercy, very much in the way they did in Cornwall. Among others, there came to the church on Sunday afternoon, a tall Yorkshireman, in his working clothes. He stood under the gallery, in his shirt sleeves, with a clay pipe sticking out of his waistcoat pocket, and a little cap on his head. I fancy I can see him now, standing erect, looking earnestly at me while I was preaching, with his hand on one of the iron supports of the gallery. As the sermon proceeded he became deeply interested, and step by step drew nearer to the pulpit. He seemed to be altogether unconscious that he was not dressed for a Sunday congregation, or that he was the object of any special notice. After the sermon, he knelt down in the aisle, and there he remained. I was called out of the vestry to go to him, but could not get him to say a word. I prayed by his side, and after some time he groaned out an Amen," ," then he got up, and went towards the door. I followed him, and saw that instead of going along the path, he made across the graves in the churchyard, to a particular one; and then he threw himself on the ground, in vehement and convulsive emotion. He said something about "Edward," but we could not distinguish what it was. The sexton said, that this was his son Edward's grave. Poor man! he was in great sorrow; but he kept it all to himself. He then went home, and shut himself up in his own room. His daughter could do nothing with him in his distress. We called several times to see him in the course of the evening, but in vain.
The next morning I called again, when his daughter told me that he had gone out early, and had not returned to breakfast. She appeared to be in a good deal of trouble,
and said she had been to his mine to inquire for him, but that he was not there. All day long we searched for him. Some looked in the woods, half-expecting they might find his body on the ground, or hanging from a tree; while others inquired in every direction, with increasing anxiety, till the evening. Then, as we were returning home in despair and disappointment, whom should we see in the green lane between the vicarage and the church, but our friend. He was looking into the shrubs as if watching something; and when we came up to him, he turned to us with a radiant smile, and said, "The Lord is 'gude.'"
I said, "You are right, He is so."
"Yes, I am right, all right! thank God! Think of that! He saved me this day!"
"Are you coming to church to-night?"
"Oh yes, certainly I will be there."
"But," I said, "have you been home yet?"
"Oh yes, sir, thank you; my girl knows all about me."
That man was so manifestly changed, and so filled with the Spirit, that his old worldly companions were afraid of him. The publican of the inn he used to frequent, was particularly so, and said he was frightened to be in the same. room with him.
There was a great stir among the people in this place; for the fear of the Lord had fallen on them, so that they were solemnized exceedingly, and many were converted.
The vicar being somewhat timid, began to be afraid of what was going on; and wrote to ask counsel of a clerical neighbour at C, who answered his letter by inviting him to come over, and bring me with him. He said that he wanted me to preach in his church on the following Friday evening, adding, "I have already given notice, and also read parts of your letter in church. I am sure the people will come and hear this man; I expect a large congregation.