influence exceeding the power of humanity, is miraculous, and therefore to abate or be totally withdrawn, now the church is perfectly established.' What say they when they catechise? 'My good child, know this, that thou art not able to do these things of thyself, nor to walk in the commands of God, and to serve him, without his special grace.' But what says his Lordship? A rule of faith being now established, the conviction which the weight of human testimony, and the conclusions of human reason, afford, are abundantly sufficient to support us in our religious perseverance.' What says his Lordship himself, when he confirms children thus catechised? Strengthen them, we beseech thee, O Lord, with the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, and daily increase in them thy manifold gifts and grace, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and ghostly strength.' But what says his Lordship, when he speaks his own sentiments? All aids in spiritual distresses, as well as those which administered help in corporeal diseases, are now abated or totally withdrawn.' What says his Lordship when he ordains? Dost thou trust that thou art inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost? then, receive thou the Holy Ghost.'

"What says his Lordship, when pronouncing the blessing? The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God.' But what says his Lordship when retired to his study? All supernatural influence, manifesting itself in grace and knowledge, is miraculous, and therefore to cease under a perfect establishment.' What says-But I check myself; for the time would fail me, was I to urge all those quotations that might be produced out of the articles, homilies, and public offices, to confront and invalidate the whole tenor and foundation of his Lordship's performance. But how it is consistent with that wisdom which is from above, (and by which his Lordship attempts to arraign, try, and condemn, the Reverend Mr. John Wesley,) to subscribe to, and make use of, public offices in the church, and then as publicly deny and contradict them in the press, I leave to his Lordship's more calm and deliberate consideration. Sure I am, if weighed in the same balance, his Lordship would be found equally wanting, at least. Indeed, during the whole trial,

I could scarcely refrain breaking out into the language of the eunuch of Queen Candace to Philip the evangelist, Speaketh the prophet this of himself, or of some other man?' I hope, my dear friend, you know me better than to suspect I thus retort upon his Lordship, in order to throw dust in your eyes, to prevent your seeing what his Lordship may justly except against in the conduct of the methodists in general, or in the journals of the Reverend Mr. John Wesley in particular. Whatever that indefatigable labourer may think of his, you know I have long since publicly acknowledged, that there were, and doubtless, though now sent forth in a more correct attire, there are yet, many exceptionable passages in my journals. And I hope it will be one of the constant employments of my declining years, to humble myself daily before the most high God, for the innumerable mixtures of corruption which have blended themselves with my feeble, but, I trust, sincere endeavours, whether from

press or pulpit, to promote the Redeemer's glory, and the eternal welfare of precious and immortal souls. And I assure you, that if his Lordship had contented himself with pointing out, or even ridiculing, any such blemishes or imprudences, or yet still more important mistakes, in my own, or any of the methodists' conduct or performances, I should have stood entirely silent. But when I observed his Lordship through almost his whole book, not only wantonly throwing about the arrows and firebrands of scurrility, buffoonery, and personal abuse, but, at the same time, on account of some unguarded expressions and indiscretions of a particular set of honest, though fallible, men, taking occasion to wound, vilify, and totally deny the all-powerful, standing operations of the blessed Spirit, by which alone his Lordship or any other man living can be sanctified and sealed to the day of eternal redemption, I must own that I was constrained to vent myself to you, as a dear and intimate friend, in the manner I have done. Make what use of it you please; perhaps hereafter I may trouble you with some further remarks." Letter.

It was a significant "sign of the times," that Payne, the accomptant-general of the Bank of England, wrote an answer to Warburton. I ought also to add, that the bishop could persecute

as well as rail. This ought to be known; because he appears somewhat amiable in his correspondence with Doddridge, and not a little faithful in exposing "the unclean beasts" in his own ark. Adams of Stinchcombe, near Gloucester, was the friend of Whitefield and Venn. He was an infirm man, but zealous. Warburton had been his patron; but when he began to itinerate, and to preach for Lady Huntingdon at Bath, the bishop insisted, in his own style, upon strict residence at home. "I shall insist," he says, " upon your constant residence in your parish,— not so much for the good you are likely to do there, as to prevent the mischief you may do by rambling about to other places. Your bishop and (though your fanatic conduct has almost made me ashamed to own it) your patron, W. GLOUCESTER.'

Adams remonstrated, and proved that during three years he had only been three months non-resident. He argued also that he had accepted Stinchcombe, a living of £36 per annum, in preference to one of £80, because he was unable to give full service. All this was in vain. He was a methodist. Warburton, therefore, (without a divine legation,) replied, "If I indulged you in giving your parish only one service on Sunday, I hereby revoke that indulgence, and insist upon your giving them full service." Nichols.

It might have been unsafe then to defy such legates, when they interdicted itineracy; and even now an infirm man could do no good by rambling; but let some men of renown take the field, and their gowns are as safe as any mitre on the bench. Mitres must now lead on the evangelization of the country, or follow cardinal's hats to Rome.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WHITEFIELD'S LAST LABOURS AT HOME.

ALTHOUGH Whitefield's last days were not "his best days," either at home or abroad, they were both happy and useful days. The very evening of his life includes more labour and success than the whole day of ordinary men. After opening the Countess's chapel at Bath, the care of his own chapels in London quite absorbed him for some months. He could neither range nor revisit, because of the difficulty of supplying his pulpits. Besides, he was too weak "to do now as he had done." He thought himself fit only to "stand by an old gun or two in a garrison," instead of leading the battle. But such thoughts did not last long in his mind. His "old ambition" soon returned, whenever his strength or spirits rallied for a day. A very slight improvement in his health would make him exclaim, "Who knows but this feeble arm may yet be strengthened to annoy the enemy?"

In the spring of 1766, he was assisted by Occum, the Indian preacher, who came over with Whitaker, to collect for Dr. Wheelock's college. He was much pleased with Occum's spirit, and with his preaching; for both the noble and the poor heard him gladly, and contributed liberally. Whitefield threw all his soul into this enterprise, and nearly a thousand pounds were soon raised for it. Even the king, through the influence of Lord Dartmouth, contributed to the fund. Occum, as well as his object, deserved this welcome. He was a superior man and a popular preacher in his own country, both in the woods and in the cities. He died in 1792, at New Stockbridge, and was followed to the grave by three hundred weeping Indians.

In the spring and summer of 1766, Whitefield paid some visits to Bath and Bristol, for the benefit of the waters, and in the hope of making excursions. But both the weather and his health were bad, and he could seldom preach in these cities, except at six in the morning. But even at that hour he had large audiences.

Two things pleased him much at this time. He had got Fletcher of Madely into his pulpits at London, and had formed an acquaintance with Rowland Hill. Of the former he said, “Dear Mr. Fletcher is become a scandalous Tottenham Court preacher." "Were we more scandalous, more good would be done." Still," the shout of a King is yet heard in the methodist camp." This was particularly the case in Bath, before Whitefield returned to winter quarters. The nobility crowded to hear him; and whatever effect his sermons had upon them, many of the poor were effectually called. Such was, however, the apparent impression on all ranks, that he left Bath, longing and praying that God would open his way again into all the towns in England.

This prayer was not granted: but God enabled Whitefield to quicken the zeal of stronger men. He heard of "four methodist parsons" being the guests of one of his friends; and exclaimed, "Four methodist parsons!-it is enough to set a whole kingdom on fire, when Jesus says,-Loose them, and let them go!" This message was followed up by an appeal to them, which must have been felt:-" Indeed and indeed, my dear and honoured friends, I am ashamed of myself. I blush and am confounded, so very little have I done or suffered for Jesus! What a poor figure shall I make amongst the saints, confessors, and martyrs around His throne, without some deeper signatures of his divine impress, without more scars of christian honour! To-morrow I intend to take the sacrament upon it, that I will begin to begin to be a christian." It was appeals of this kind, which made the Romaines and Venns (nothing loth!) bestir themselves; and which brought around Whitefield the Shirleys and De Courcys of the time. Another way in which he helped on, at this time, the work he had begun, was by prefacing a new edition of Bunyan's Works; and thus reviving public attention to the old