June 11. Being Trinity-Sunday.) I preached at nine on, “So God created man in his own image;” and in the evening, to an huge congregation
3. That I then ‘strongly recommended an argument for the exclusive right of the colonies to tax themselves.’ I believe I did; but I am now of
another mind.
“You affirm,
4. ‘You say in the Preface, I never saw that book.’ I did say so. The plain case was, I had so entirely forgotten it, that even when I saw it again, I recollected nothing of it, till I had read several pages. If I had, I might have observed that you borrowed more from Mr. P. than I did from Dr. Johnson. Though I know not whether I should have observed it, as it does not affect the merits of the cause.
“You affirm,
5. ‘You say, But I really believe he was told so;’ and add, ‘Supposing what I asserted was false, it is not easy to conceive what reason you could have for believing I was told so.’ My reason was, I believed you
feared God, and therefore would not tell a willful untruth; so I made the best excuse for you which I thought the nature of the thing would admit of. Had you not some reasons to believe this of me; and
therefore to say, (at least,) ‘I hope he forgot it?’
“‘But at this time I was perfectly unknown to you.’ No, at this time I knew you wrote that tract; but had I not, charity would have induced me to hope this, even of an entire stranger.
“You now have my ‘feeble reply;’ and if you please to advance any new argument, (personal reflections I let go,) you may perhaps receive a farther reply from
“Your humble servant,
“John Wesley.
“London, December 9.
“I did not see your letter till this morning.”
Mon. 11. — I began a little journey into Kent. In the evening I preached at Chatham, the next evening at Canterbury. I know not that ever I saw such a congregation there before. Tuesday, 12. I preached at Dover. As many as could, squeezed into the House, and the rest went quietly away.
Thur. 14. — I returned to Canterbury, and had a long conversation with that extraordinary man, Charles Perronet. What a mystery of Providence!
Why is such a saint as this buried alive by continual sickness? In the evening we had a larger congregation than before. I never saw the House thoroughly filled till now: And I am sure the people had now a call from God, whether they will hear or whether they will forbear.
Fri. 15. — In the evening I preached at Chatham, and on Saturday returned to London. In the evening I preached a kind of funeral sermon at Snowsfields, for that upright woman, Jane Binknell. For many years she was a pattern of all holiness; and, for the latter part of her life, of patience.
Yet as she labored under an incurable and painful disorder, which allowed her little rest, day or night, the corruptible body pressed down the soul, and frequently occasioned much heaviness. But, before she went, the clouds dispersed, and she died in sweet peace; but not in such triumphant joy as did Ann Davis, two or three weeks before. She died of the same
disorder; but had withal, for some years, racking pains in her head day and night, which in a while rendered her stone-blind. Add to this, that she had a kind husband; who was continually reproaching her for living so long, and cursing her for not dying out of the way. Yet in all this she did not
“charge God foolishly;” but meekly waited till her change should come.
Today I read Dr. Beattie’s Poems; certainly one of the best Poets of the age. He wants only the ease and simplicity of Mr. Pope. — I know one, and only one, that has it.
Mon. 18. — I took another little journey, and in the evening preached at Bedford. Tuesday, 19. I dragged on, through miserable roads, to St. Neot’s, and preached in a large room to a numerous congregation. Understanding that almost all the Methodists, by the advice of Mr.——, had left the church, I earnestly exhorted them to return to it. In the evening I preached at Godmanchester.
Wed. 20. — I preached at Luton; the next evening, at Hertford; and on Friday morning, returned to London.
This day we observed as a day of fasting and prayer, and were much persuaded God will yet be entreated.
Thur. 21. — I revised a volume of Latin Poems, wrote by a gentleman of Denmark. I was surprised. Most of the verses are not unworthy of the Augustan age. Among the rest, there is a translation of two of Mr. Pope’s Epistles, line for line. And yet, in language, not only as pure as Virgil’s, but as elegant too.
Tues. January 2, 1776. — Being pressed to pay a visit to our brethren at Bristol, some of whom had been a little unsettled by the patriots, so called, I set out early; but the roads were so heavy, that I could not get thither till night. I came just time enough, not to see, but to bury, poor Mr.
Hall, my brother-in-law, who died on Wednesday morning; I trust, in peace; for God had given him deep repentance. Such another monument of divine mercy, considering how low he had fallen, and from what height of holiness, I have not seen, no, not in seventy years! I had designed to visit him in the morning; but he did not stay for my coming. It is enough, if, after all his wanderings, we meet again in Abraham’s bosom.