August, 1805.


I am now within twelve miles of. Castle Howard, the seat of Lord Carlisle, and shall pass it on Monday next in my way home. My success seems to be exceedingly great, and I have no doubt but God sent me here. I am now at Helmsley Blackmoor, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, and twenty-four miles beyond the city of that name. I find many here poor and needy in soul, and these are blessed indeed. One poor old farmer has followed me more than two hundred miles; last night he dropped his chains, and this morning he came to visit me, with the rays of the sun on his face, and the wings of a dove on his back: and no less than three more, who have heard the jubilee, and felt their release. I have no call to tell you that the eyes of these seeing me, bless me; and their ears hearing me, give witness to me.

I have invitations from all quarters, and might soon become a bishop at large, and might travel with four horses, for they are all subscribing to bear my charges. I preached first at Grantham on Friday night, and was almost melted; on Sunday twice, and on Monday evening at Newark; on Tuesday evening at Redford: on Wednesday I went to Sherborn, where, finding but one professing man, the man who invited me, and being informed that the little town was stuffed with empty critics and hypocrites, I fell into a bad humour; and, finding there were none that were poor and needy, or that wished to hear me, I sent six miles for a post-chaise, and reached Elvington, six miles below York, that night. I then sent the poor old farmer before to Helmsley, to inform them that I Would preach to them on Thursday and on Friday evenings: he reached Helmsley about ten o'clock in the forenoon, and I arrived about four hours after, and preached to not less than six hundred, as it was conjectured; and last night to a full house; twice more to morrow; and then on Monday I set off to preach at Newark on Tuesday evening; Wednesday and Thursday nights at Grantham; on Friday I steer my course to Ely, Downham, and Littleport; and then for Cricklewood, if God permit. I am at a farm-house, on a pleasant and beautiful hill: my host has been in irons himself, so we agree well; but I have a mile to walk every night after I have done, and the way almost all up hill; this tires me beyond measure; but the cross must attend us.

Kind love to Peg and James; so concludes the servant of servants,

W. H. S. S.

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