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Industrial school: and bothjcatholics and protestants are in it. The school is not to proselyte; then they mutter in Irish to one another, and rebuke the offender; and she asks pardon in English, and they calm down; and by talking kindly to them they promise to send a girl or two. We then ask them, are there any other girls idle in the street, who would' come? They say there is not one in all that neighbourhood, but who is employed by the Nuns, and we need not go to another house; but not believing them, we go into another, and find five or six idle, who never were with the Nuns; and thus we go on.
As we come home, Mrs. S. says, she is quite in her element working among ,them—reproving them for bad tempers and bad language, and rendering them some assistance for both soul and body. When we get home, in comes James from school: Miss S. says, my head aches with the stench of those girls and with their contentions; though they are not at all so bad as they were. James comes up and makes his piteous complaint, that a mob of ruffian papists threw stones at him, bespattered him with dirt, and jostled him in the street. On going in search of the rabble, we find the ringleader, and hand him over to the police, who say that he has been with them before; and they take him to the barrack. As my daughters look out of the window, a respectable young man from an academy looks up, and he shouts "Kilhamites," and passes along. A servant maid is sent to our house on business and as she is in the hall, a papist looks in, and says with a loud voice—" and are you turned Jumper too?" Two or three girls come after school hours, and although this is an infraction of the laws of the school, Miss S. is so goodnatured with them that she attends to what they want ; and off they go, saying—" As long as you are in Galway we will never leave your school for any one—I don't care what either priests or nuns say." Dinner is served up, and we are in a great glee, rehearsing what we have passed through. Miss S. says —" I think we should be lonely, after all, if we had not this school in this unsocial desert." "School," says Mrs. S., "the Connexion need never send a Missionary to this country without a school." Hut, as we dine with a good conscience, having done a little for the cause of God, a loud knock is heard at the door. One leaves the table; and there is a young boy with a paper in his hand; having read the bills in the windows, and found out my name, he sends up a document, saying that his name is William Seymour, and that he is dying of hunger: though there never was a person called
Seymour heard of in this place, except two Episcopal ministers, and myself and family. After dinner and a little rest, Miss S. proposes that we all go down to the sea shore for health. Off we start; and a whole troop of paupers attack us in the street, shouting, "for the honour of God, give us a penny," and "for the virgin's sake." I speak to some of them, and ask—" Why do you not go to the priests? I am not a priest; you dont belong to me." They reply, "O, sir, I know you are not a priest: the priests will do nothing for us; the protestants are better than they." "And why do you stay with them?" One cries, "I'll turn for one-halfpenny." When we get down to the shore, there we see about fifty idle fishermen and their wives, basking in the sun like sheep, all in one mass of filthy rags. One of them will come out and say—" I'll turn for a halfpenny;" others call out "look at the Jumpers." The priests also come out to watch us. Reaching home as the hour draws near, a fidler enters the street; and, sometimes, his music outside, and ours inside, come into contact, to our great annoyance. When he goes off, up comes a beggar to the window, and continues shouting for help, until some one must go out and drive her away. A fellow then comes and gives a polite knock, and runs off, so that I am glad when the service closes, as it is perpetual annoyance. Shutting up the house, we calculate upon having done with perplexities; but, to our astonishment, an unearthly howl comes through the key-hole of the hall door, " for God's sake, and for the honour of God, will you give us something;" and this is repeated twenty times, till we go and drive them away. After singing and prayer, we retire to bed, somewhat weary, but, just as we go to sleep, we are aroused by loud knocking ar. the door. I put out my head at the window, and I must make half a dozen enquiries "what is wanted " (most of what they say being inexplicable.) At last I shut up the window, and from the unexpected alarm, sleep goes away for a time. Then we compose ourselves again; and just as we fall over, an ill-behaved young man, who has been out, as it is reported, in the fields, doing no good, till two o'clock in the morning, comes home, and kicks his door so violently, that we suppose the noise is at our own door: so our sleep departs. Next, we hear low talk under our window; and, when I put out my head, I see, with the moonlight, persons under a coverlet, lying just at my hall door; I run down stairs, and as I turn the key through its wards, up rise a man and a woman, and haste away. On returning to bed, the scenes
witnessed having driven away sleep, 1 get up and walk in my night-dress on the floor, look out at the moon walking in her brightness: go to prayer; hear the clock strike ten, eleven, twelve, one and two. Then we go to sleep; and, during the next day, we feel sleep over, take us sitting upon our seats, or by the sea side.
When we came to reside in Nun's Island Street, a woman, very near to us, was so outrageously wicked, that we thought we could hardly live beside her; by returning good for evil, she and her family were melted down; her daughter was taken so ill, that her life was despaired of. Mrs. Sevmour went to see her, and though a bigoted Romanist, she was so far impressed, as to allow Mrs. S. to pray with her. After her recovery, she and her mother paid us a visit. After some conversation in our drawing room, about the goodness of God in her recovery, Airs. S. proposed prayer. The young woman fell down upon her knees at once, but the old woman stood on her feet, as papists will not kneel with protestants. Mrs. S. commenced her prayer; when the old matron exclaimed, 'it is not sin to pray, I'll kneel too.' After prayer, she said, "give me the religion that does not hold 8 horse-whip over my head—give me the religion that shews me a good example, instead of whipping me." This was a reference to the priest: and this was one of the most ferocious papists in Galway.
Yours, in the Lord Jesus,
RESOLUTIONS OF THE LAST
ANNUAL MEETING, HELD
AT THE LAST CONFERENCE,
The following resolutions, passed at the general meeting of the society, held on the evenings of Whit Monday and Tuesday last, but omitted in the Missionary Report, the written copy having been mislaid and lost, are given from the original draft, which has been subsequently found. Resolved: —
First,—That this meeting, humbly and devoutly acknowledging, that whatever good is done, the Lord doeth it; and more especially, that the success of the
gospel in the salvation of souls is not by uman wisdom or power, but by the agency of the Divine Spirit, would express its warmest gratitude to God for the special outpouring of his Spirit with which he has so graciously visited some of our
mission stations in Ireland and Canada, during the past year; and not only joins in present supplication, but pledges itself to make it matter of earnest and persevering prayer throughout the coming year, that God would vouchsafe the like blessing to all our stations and home circuits, and to all the churches of his saints: making each and all centres of purity and peace, and successful instruments in accomplishing the salvation of a lost world.
Second,—That, impressed with the importance of establishing Christian ordinances, and a Christian ministry, in the various colonies now so rapidly forming in various parts of the British dominions, this meeting pledges itself to increased exertions in support of the fiiii.Is of the mission, and will rejoice to learn that the Committee have thus been enabled to extend the sphere of its operations and usefulness.
Third,—That this meeting learns with high satisfaction, the success with which it has pleased God to crown our home missionary labours in the populous and rapidly enlarging town of Bolton; and, assured that other fields of usefulness, equally necessitous, and at the same time, equally hopeful, are presented in the other manufacturing and mercantile towns of Great Britain, it would express its confident hope, that an effort will be made during the year, to open, at least, one other home missionary station, and earnestly prays that it may be crowned with equal success.
Fourth,—That while this meeting would express its gratitude to God, whose influence extends to all hearts, and to all circumstances, for the increased liberality with which the funds of the mission are supported by some of our esteemed christian friends; it also tenders its thanks to them, together with the collectors and the general and local committees, for their valuable services, andjhopes|that, during the ensuing year, both increased activity will be displayed in the means employed to secure an augmentation of our missionary income, especially in the establishment and extension of juvenile societies; and that the examples of zeal and liberality, so nobly set, will be imitated through all the borders of our Zion.
Fifth,—That the best thanks of this meeting are due, and are hereby given to Benjamin Fowler, Esq., for the valuable services which he has rendered to the society as general treasurer, and for the able and efficient manner in which he has conducted the business of this meeting.
NEW CONNEXION MAGAZINE.
DISCOURSES, ESSAYS, &c.
PICTURES OF GENIUS.—THEIR LIGHTS AND THEIR
JOHN WESLEY AND GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
In drawing a portrait of a man's mind, we frequently feel how much we should like to have a couple of hours' free conversation with him by the fire-side. It is true, we can converse with him in his works, or in his history; but here there is a stiffness and a precision, and a distance —a half-natural and a half-artificial air—which not infrequently is hard to get rid of, and which a familiar personal interview would effectually remove. We may, indeed, obtain his great thoughts, and read of his great deeds, but we don't so clearly see his less ones, nor his foibles, nor the muscular movement of his face, nor the peculiar glance of his eye. The mind-limner who is dealing with "spirits-departed" feels ready to turn temporary resurrectionist in order to reproduce his subject, and successfully to accomplish his difficult task. But the thought recurs that even then he would be defeated; for the spirit, which is the true man, and that he is in search of, would be gone. In attempting the portraitures of Wesley and Whitefield, we must again quietly submit to this misfortune, and produce pictures as near the original as we can, and those who desire better must seek them elsewhere, or patiently wait till they meet Wesley and Whitefield in the world of spirits.
It would be useless to spend labour in describing the deplorable state of religion in this country at the time of the appearance of Wesley and Whitefield. It is notorious that nearly everything like religion had disappeared. A fearful dearth had reigned for years; a spiritual night had long brooded over and held the land in bondage. From Cape Wrath to Lizard Point, and from Lowestoft to St. David's Head, as far as religion was concerned (with a very few exceptions), there was darkness, there was an ominous silence, there was the image of spiritual death. There was the skeleton of religion—even this was often deformed—but the agents of motion, the circulating life-fluid, the vital organs, all sensibility, all consciousness, the last trace of animated organism, seemed to have disappeared. There was the chill of the corpse, and the gloom of midnight; and Wesley and Whitefield appeared—not as shooting stars, but as burning suns—not as "matter-of-course" formalists, but as earnest, uncompromising Christians, living and breathing, and reflecting, the very spirit and quintessence of primitive Christianity.
Wesley and Whitefield soon saw that religion in this country was at a miserable discount; and in order that they might awake the public to its importance, they sought to drink deep of its pure streams themselves.