# Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray/Chapter III.

CHAPTER III.
Arrival in England, and further Progress of the inexperienced Traveller.
Hail, native Isle, for deeds of worth renown'd, By Statesmen, Patriots, Poets, Heroes crown'd; For thee my friends, my weeping friends, I leave, To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive.
I NOW began a new era of my melancholy life. Losing sight of land, I again retired to my cabin: alas! "busy thought was too busy for ​my peace." Launched upon the wide ocean, I was speeding to a country, my native country indeed; but a country, in which I could boast neither relation, nor friend, not even a single acquaintance. I was quitting a country, in which I had both relations and friends, with many pleasant acquaintances; yet this consideration did not much depress me; for although my heart was pained, exquisitely pained, when I reflected on those I was leaving, yet I was in raptures at the thought of England. I promised myself every thing pleasing in England; yet, in my most visionary moments, I could not name a source, from which I could rationally expect establishment, or even temporary gratification. Several gentlemen were in the cabin, who took kind notice of me; they asked me no questions, so I was not embarrassed; but they contributed to render my passage agreeable, which, however, was very short; for the identical passage, which, when I accompanied my father, consumed full nine weeks, was now performed in three days; but, exempted from those fears, and that nausea, which sometimes afflict fresh-water sailors, I was rather pleased with the rapidity of our passage. We dropped anchor in Bristol channel; I was charmed with an opportunity of going on shore at Pill, and once more greeting the good old lady, that had, many years before, so tenderly compassionated me, when I returned, as one from the dead, to my offended father. Alas! she was no more; this was a disappointment, but I was in England, and every thing I saw, swelled my throbbing bosom to rapture. I was determined on walking to Bristol, it was only five miles, and through a most enchanting country. O! what transport of delight I felt, when, with the ensuing morning, I commenced my journey. The birds sweetly carolled, the flowers enamelled the meadows, the whole scene was paradisiacal. It was England. But where was I going? I knew not. How to be employed? I knew not; but I knew I was in England, and, after feasting my eyes and ears, I seated myself upon a verdant bank, where the hot wells, (so much celebrated as the resort of invalid votaries of fashion, who come hear to kill time, and to protract a debilitated existence by the use of the waters,) were in full view. Here I began seriously to reflect upon my situation, and to attend to various questions, proposed by a certain invisible, my internal monitor, who thus introduced the inquiry. "Well, here you are, in England, what are you to do?" God only knows. "Had you not better apply to Him for his direction and protection?" Certainly, where has my mind wandered, that I have not thus done before? The emotions of my heart were at this moment indescribable. When I last gazed upon ​these scenes, my prudent, vigilant father, was at my side, to guard me from evil; now I had no guide, no counsellor, no protector! "O yes," said my monitor, "you have the Creator, the Father of your father, He will be your God, and your guide: He will be your protector, your counsellor, your preserver; He will provide for you, and, if you apply to Him, He will make your way plain before you." My heart, softened and cheered by these consoling suggestions, instantly began its supplications; there I prayed, and there I remembered Jacob upon the field of Padan-Aram; I commended myself to the care of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and I added to these names, the name of my own father. Thus, by unbosoming myself to the Author of my existence, was my spirit greatly refreshed. It is very true I wept, freely wept, but my tears were tears of luxury, and I went on my way rejoicing, in a hope which gave me, as it were, to tread air. I reached Bristol at early dinner, I entered a tavern, inquiring if I could be furnished with a dinner. They saw I was a stranger, and from Ireland. The master of the inn was from the same country; he soon discovered I was a Methodist, and being acquainted with those Religionists, he invited them to visit me, and I was consequently introduced to many of the Methodists in that city. It may be thought strange, that, as I had been so much engaged among the Methodists in Ireland, being one of their approved preachers, I did not take the steps necessary to introduce me among that class of people in England. But, beside the jealousy which had taken place in the minds of my religious brethren, on account of my attachment to the doctrine of election, which made me resolve to quit Mr. Wesley's connexion, and unite myself with the adherents of Mr. Whitefield, I wished for liberty to act myself, without restraint. But on being introduced, I was soon engaged; attended their meetings, and private societies, and was admired, and caressed, and consequently tarried longer than I had proposed, deriving, from every social interview, abundant consolation. Upon the evening previous to my departure from Bristol, I was urged to visit a society a few miles from the city; it was a pleasant walk; several of both sexes were assembled, they were neat in person, and correct in manners, and they were all English. I was charmed, and, being in good spirits, I was thought excellent company; I was then a stranger. They were highly pleased; I was requested to pray; I did so, and we mingled our tears. I was solicited to continue among this people, but my wishes all pointed to London—and to London I must go. I parted with my new acquaintance with regret, for I was ​as much pleased with them, as they appeared to be with me. Being prevailed upon to tarry dinner the next day, I did not leave Bristol until the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to proceed as far as Bath, and take the stage for London, upon the ensuing morning. As I passed over one of the most charming roads in England, and alone, I had not only time for reflection, but my reflections were pensively pleasing: I was advancing towards the metropolis; hitherto I had experienced the goodness of God, and I indulged the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatly elated; I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture; I was not wearied by my walk, it was only sixteen miles from Bristol, to Bath; the fields stood thick with corn, the valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of hay, seemed to laugh and sing, and the birds, in their variety, were, as if hymning the praises of their Creator, while the setting sun heightened the grandeur, and gave the finishing touches to the scene. My feelings were indeed highly wrought. I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful river; two hay-makers were returning from their toil; I addressed them, and, in my accustomed manner, I expressed my delight, and my gratitude. "These," said I, in a strain of rapture, "These are thy glorious works, Parent of good; Almighty Father, thine this universal frame; these wond'rous fair—surpassing wonder far—thyself how wond'rous then!" Tears gushed in my eyes, as I thus expressed the transport of my soul. The men were astonished, yet they seemed pleased; I asked them the name of the river? They replied, "the Avon, sir." Then, said I, it flows through the native place of Shakspeare. "Shakspeare, who is he?" A writer, I replied; wondering at myself for mentioning his name; but I thought of Shakspeare, and I have ever been accustomed to think loud; the thought was an addition to my pleasures, and, from the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh. My companions could not fail of discovering, that I came from Ireland, yet they cast no reflections upon me, as is the custom with low people, upon these occasions; they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. "I fancy," said one of them, "you are a Methodist." I am said I—I do not deny it. "Then my Bess will be glad to see thee, I'll warrant me; wool thee come along with me? Thee may go farther, and fare worse, I can tell thee that." "Ay, ay," said the other, "Thee had best go with my neighbour—I'll warrant thee good cheer." I thanked this kind man, and my heart swelled with gratitude to that Being, in whose hands are the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me on my entrance into this strange city, with loving-kindness, and tender mercy. ​We walked on together, mutually delighted; I, with every thing I saw, and my companions with me, for my expressed satisfaction. We soon stopped at the door of a very neat house. This cannot, said my heart, be the dwelling of a hay-maker; it was, however, and opening the door, he said: "Here, Bess, I have brought thee home a young Methodist, I know thee wilt be glad to see him." I was then, by this rough, good-hearted man, presented to his wife: "Thou must find out his name thyself." I immediately told her my name, when, in a friendly manner, she requested me to be seated. She was a very different character from her husband, her manners were even polished; she entered into friendly conversation with me, and we derived much satisfaction therefrom, when her husband entering, inquired in his rough manner, "What the plague, Bess, hast got no supper for thy guest?" This was a matter to which we had neither of us recurred. The good man, however, was speedily obeyed, and an elegant repast was forthwith placed upon the table, of which I partook with appetite. We afterwards sang one of the Methodist hymns, and we united in solemn prayer; while my heart acknowledged all the fervour of devotion, even my host himself seemed affected and pleased, declaring he esteemed himself fortunate in meeting me. I was introduced to a handsome lodging room, and a good bed, but the fulness of my grateful heart would not, for some time, allow me to close my eyes; at length I sunk into the most refreshing slumbers, and I arose the next morning greatly exhilarated. I was received by my hospitable host, and hostess, with every mark of satisfaction; we breakfasted together, sang a hymn, and addressed the throne of grace, when the good man went forth to the labours of the field, requesting that I would not think of leaving them. In the course of the morning, the good lady informed me, that they had recently settled, in Bath, a Mr. Tucker, who had been a preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence; of all the preachers, with whom I had ever associated, this man possessed the greatest share of my affection. His tender, innocent, child-like disposition, not only endeared him to me, but to all who were acquainted with his worth. My hostess was charmed to learn, that I was known to Mr. Tucker: I solicited her to direct me to his residence, but when she informed me, that, by the death of his father, he had recently come into possession of thirty thousand pounds sterling, I became apprehensive I should not be recognised. But I had occasion to reproach myself for my suspicions, for no sooner was I conducted to his dwelling, than he caught me in his arms, and expressed the highest satisfaction. ​Upon introducing me to his lady, he said: "My dear, this young man is the eldest son of one of the best men I ever knew. No man ever possessed a larger share of my venerating affection: I love this young person as his son, and I love him for himself; and when you, my dear, know him as I do, the goodness of your own heart will compel you to love him as I do." How highly gratifying all this to me, at such a time, in such a place, and in the presence of the lady, whose guest I was! but I must be her guest no longer; this warm-hearted friend of my father, and of myself, would not allow me to leave his house nor the city for a long season; indeed, it was greatly against his will, that I left Bath when I did. I promised, I would call every day upon my worthy host, and hostess, which promise I punctually performed. Mr. Tucker insisted upon my giving them a discourse in the church in which he officiated; for, although possessed of an independent fortune, he yet continued to preach to the people. On Sunday, then, I preached in the city of Bath, to great acceptation. My host and hostess (the hospitable hay-maker and wife) were present, and felicitated themselves that they had introduced a man, so much approved.
My Reverend friend conducted me from place to place, showing me every thing curious in that opulent resort of the nobility. It was to this faithful friend that I communicated, in confidence, the difficulties under which I laboured, respecting my religious principles. I observed to him, that I could not, with a good conscience, reprobate doctrines, which, as I firmly believed originated with God, nor advocate sentiments diametrically opposite to what I considered as truth. On this account I could not cordially unite with Mr. Wesley, or his preachers. Mr. Tucker saw the force of my objections; nay, he felt them too, for he was at that instant nearly in the same predicament with myself. Yet we could not hit upon an expedient to continue in the connexion, and preserve our integrity. My anxiety, however, to reach the capital compelled me to press forward; and my kind friend, convinced I was not to be prevailed upon further to delay my departure, engaged a place in the coach for me, discharging all the attendant expenses, and placing, besides, a handsome gratuity in my pocket. Of my first host and hostess I took a friendly leave, gratitude has stamped their images upon my bosom; I left them, and my other kind friends, in tears; we commended each other to the kind God, who, in his own way, careth for us. I have since been greatly astonished, indeed I was at the time surprised, at my thus hastening to quit a place, where I was furnished with every thing, my heart ought to have desired, ​when the prospect before me was at least uncertain; but I have been, all my days, a mystery to myself, nor is this mystery yet unravelled. I retired this night to bed, but did not close my eyes, until near the dawn of day; yet my reflections upon my pillow were charming; I clearly saw the good hand of God, in all my movements; I was enchanted with every thing I had seen, and with the prospect of what I had still to see. O! how sweet, in early life, are those sensations, which are the offspring of vigorous hope; how great are the joys of expectation! No one ever derived more high-wrought pleasures from hope, than myself. I quitted my bed just at the dawn of day, after a refreshing slumber; I had apprized the people at the stage house, the evening before, that I should walk on, and let the stage overtake me; this I did, and a most delightful walk I had. I met the Aurora, the rising sun, the waking songsters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of the mead, the lusty labourer, with his sithe, preparing to cut down the bending burden of the flowery meadow. The increasing beauty of the surrounding scenes, the fragrant scent of the new-mowed hay, all, all, were truly delightful, and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, I passed on, till I reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, where, after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, in which I was soon seated, finding a ride, after walking, more abundantly refreshing; we rolled over the finest road in the world, with such rapidity, that we reached London before sunset. How much was my heart elated, as I passed over this charming country; how did it palpitate with pleasure, as I advanced toward the Metropolis; yet still I had no fixed plan, nor knew I what I should do, or whither repair! True, I had some letters to deliver, but, in the hurry of my spirits, I had forgotten them; and on being set down at the stage house in London, I left my trunk without a single line of intimation to whom it belonged, and wandered about the city, feasting my eyes with the variety, which it presented, "till twilight grey had, in her sober livery, all things clad," when I began to turn my thoughts towards a shelter for the night. I entered a tavern, requesting a supper, and a lodging, both of which were readily granted; I sat pensive, I was weary, my spirits sunk, I eat little, and retiring to my chamber, after securing the door, I fell on my knees, beseeching the Father of mercies to have compassion upon me. I wept, I wished myself at home, and my heart seemed to die within me, at the consideration that I could not return, without fulfilling the predictions of my matron friend: "You will return," said she, "and perhaps find this door shut against you." Never, said I, never; I will ​die first. This was the most melancholy night, I had passed, since I left the dwelling of my mother. I arose in the morning unrefreshed, I inquired where the stage put up, I had forgotten; I told my host, I had left my trunk at the stage-house. He soon found the place, but he despaired of ever obtaining my trunk; I recovered it however, and a porter took it to my lodgings, there I believed it safe, although I knew nothing of the people. I recollected where I had lived, when with my father in this city; thither I repaired; but although there were remaining individuals who remembered him, no one recognised me. I was however kindly noticed, for his sake, and soon introduced to many, by whom I was much caressed. From this I reaped no benefit; a few of my Methodist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited me, but, seeing me in company which they did not approve, they stood aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wesley, and his adherents, my principles were against me. They did not believe any man could be pious, who believed the doctrine of predestination. I remember, some time after the death of my father, sitting with Mr. Wesley in the house of my mother, and conversing on this truly interesting subject; I ventured to remark, that there were some good men, who had given their suffrage in favour of the doctrine of Election, and I produced my father, as an instance, when, laying his hand upon my shoulder, with great earnestness, he said: "My dear lad, believe me, there never was a man in this world, who believed the doctrine of Calvin, but the language of his heart was, 'I may live as I list.'" It was, as I have before observed, generally believed, that I inherited the principles of my father. The Methodists in London were afraid of me, and I was afraid of them, we therefore, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other; my wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still paramount in my bosom, but Mr. Whitefield was not at home, and it was unfortunate for me that he was not. Every day I was more and more distinguished; but it was by those, whose neglect of me would have been a mercy: by their nominal kindness I was made to taste of pleasures, to which I had before been a stranger, and those pleasures were eagerly zested. I became what is called very good company, and I resolved to see, and become acquainted with life; yet I determined, my knowledge of the town, and its pleasures, should not affect my standing in the religious world. But I was miserably deceived; gradually, my former habits seemed to fade from my recollection. To my new connexions I gave, and received from them, what I then believed pleasure, without alloy. Of music, and dancing, I was very fond, and ​I delighted in convivial parties; Vaux-hall, the play-houses, were charming; I had never known life before. It is true, my secret Mentor sometimes embittered my enjoyments; the precepts, the example of my father stared me in the face; the secret sigh of my bosom arose, as I mournfully reflected on what I had lost. But I had not sufficient resolution to retrace my steps; indeed I had little leisure. I was in a perpetual round of company; I was intoxicated with pleasure; I was invited into one society, and another, until there was hardly a society in London, of which I was not a member. How long this life of dissipation would have lasted, had not my resources failed, I know not. I occasionally encountered one, and another, of my religious connexions, who seriously expostulated with me; but I generally extorted from them a laugh, which ultimately induced them to shun me. I had an interview with Mr. Barnstable, a preacher in Mr. Wesley's connexion, and questioning him respecting many, whom I had known, he informed me, that Mr. Trinbath, at whose house I had passed so delightful an evening with Mr. Whitefield, in the city of Cork, was no more! His beautiful wife had quitted her husband, her children, and her mother, and accompanied a private soldier to America!!! Her doting husband, thus cruelly deceived, lost first his reason, and afterwards his life. Mr. Barnstable inquired, what had become of me so long; and, after severely admonishing me, he pronounced upon me an anathema, and quitted me. It will be supposed, I was not much pleased with him, and, assuredly, I was at variance with myself; and above all, I was grievously afflicted for the misfortunes, and death of the once happy Trinbath. It has often been matter of astonishment to me, how, after such a religious education as I had received; after really, vitally entering into the spirit of the life, to which I was from infancy habituated; after feelingly bearing my public testimony against the follies, and the dissipation of the many, I should so entirely renounce a life of serious piety, and embrace a life of frolic, a life of whim! It is also wonderful, that, thus changed, I proceeded no further; that I was guilty of no flagrant vices; that I was drawn into no fatal snares. Many were the devices employed to entangle me; which devices I never deliberately sought to avoid. Doubtless, I was upheld by the good hand of God; for which sustaining power my full soul offers its grateful orisons.
I pursued this inconsiderate, destructive course, upwards of a year, never permanently reflecting where I was, or how I should terminate my career. My money was nearly exhausted: but this was beneath my consideration: and, as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by ​large circles of friends successively engaging me, either abroad, or at home, in town, or in the country. Thus did my life exhibit a constant tissue of folly, and indiscretion. But the time of my emancipation drew near; a demand, which I had barely sufficient to answer, was made upon me by my tailor; I started, and stood for some time motionless. The money, which I believed would never be expended, was already gone. I saw no method of recruiting my finances, and I stood appalled, when, at this distressing moment, a gay companion broke in upon me; he was on his way to the Club; there was to be grand doings: John Wilkes, esquire, was that night to become a member. I instantly forgot every thing of a gloomy nature, and went off as light, as a feathered inhabitant of the air. I never was fond of the pleasures of the bottle, of social pleasures no one more so; and, that I might enjoy society with an unbroken zest, I have frequently thrown the wine under the table, rejoicing that I thus preserved my reason.
This period of my life had so much of variety, and yet so much of sameness, that a picture of a week would be nearly a complete exhibition of all my deviations. Suffice it to say, that I plunged into the vortex of pleasure, greedily grasping at enjoyments, which both my habits and my circumstances should have taught me to shun. Upon this subject I do not love to dwell; if possible, I would erase it from my recollection; and yet, I derive abundant satisfaction, from the manifestation of Divine Goodness, so strikingly exemplified, through the whole of my wanderings, in preserving me, by the strong arm of the Almighty, from numerous evils to which, in the society I frequented, and in the city where I resided, I was hourly exposed. But, as I said, necessity, imperious necessity, compelled me to pause; and it was, in truth, a blessed necessity. Had I been inclined to forget, that my whole stock was expended, the frequent calls made upon me for monies, which I could not pay, would have constituted a uniform, and impressive memento. My embarrassments were soon rumoured abroad; and although I had many friends, who appeared to regard money as little as myself, who, declaring they could not exist without me, insisted upon my being of their parties, yet a consciousness of dependence rendered me wretched, while indirect remarks, thrown out by some individuals, served to increase my wretchedness. Easter holy-days are, in England, days of conviviality. Parties of pleasure were every where forming. My connexions were hastening to my favourite retreat, Richmond; inclination led me to join them; but they either were not, or I suspected they were not, as usual, warm in their solicitations, and I declined a less ​importunate invitation. I, however, took a solitary walk, and I met reflection on the way. I had in the world but one half-penny, and a mendicant, asking alms, crossed my path; I gave him my half-penny, and walked on, till, passing out of the city, I advanced into the fields. I began to feel exhausted; and, under the wide spreading shade of a tree, I sat me down. I continued, for some time, in a state of fixed despair, regardless of life and every thing which it had to bestow. The eye of retrospection ran over past scenes; I remembered my father's house, and the plenty which, particularly at this season, reigned there. This was nearly the anniversary of his death; the mournful scene passed in review before me; his paternal advice, his paternal prayers flashed upon my soul; the eye of my mind dwelt upon the family I had deserted. Oh! could they now behold me! Would they not be gratified? I hoped they would; their pity would have pained most exquisitely. Still my emotions were not of an ameliorating description; my heart was indurated, and, had I possessed the means, I should have proceeded in the path of destruction. At length I seemed awakened to a full sense of the horrors of my situation; my heart throbbed with anguish as I spontaneously exclaimed: Am I the son of such a man, the son of such parents? am I that pious youth so much, and by so many admired? am I the preacher, who at so early a period preached to others, drawing tears from the eyes of those who heard me? And is it thus my journey to England terminates? am I now alone, and unfriended, without an extricating hand to save me? Whither, ah! whither shall I go, and what step is now to be taken? At this moment, the voice of consolation vibrated upon my mental ear: "Imitate the prodigal of old, Arise, and go unto your Father; say, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, I am no longer worthy to be called thy son: but beseech Him, nevertheless, to receive you into his service." This counsel, proceeding from a quarter, from which I had not for a long season heard, deeply affected me, and bitterly did I weep, in the dread of that refusal, which, should I venture to follow the guidance of the monitor within, I was, alas! but too certain of receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm of insects, buzzed around me, but no thought gave me peace. How exquisite was the torture, which at this moment I suffered. But the approach of evening roused me to a conviction of the necessity of moving; but whither should I go? that was the question. "Suppose," said my invisible monitor, "you go to the tabernacle?" and, bursting into a flood of tears, I said, Yes, I will present myself among the multitude—yes, I will go; but how shall I meet the eye of any individual, ​who has formerly known me? how dare I stand among the worshippers of that God, whom I have so grossly offended? Yet I will go; and, with slow and mournful steps, I walked forward. The congregration had assembled. I entered, taking my stand under the gallery. I dared not raise my eyes; they were bathed in tears. Mr. Whitefield, in his usual, energetic manner, addressed his audience; but no sound of consolation reached me. At last he said: "But there may be, in some corner of this house, a poor, desponding, despairing soul, who, having sinned, greatly sinned against God and against himself, may be afraid to lift toward Heaven his guilty eye; he may, at this moment, be suffering the dreadful consequences of his wandering from the source of true happiness; and possibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted to return! If there be any one of this description present, I have to inform such individual, that God is still his loving Father; that He says, Return unto me, my poor, backsliding child, and I will heal your backslidings, and love you freely. What message shall I return my Master from you, my poor, afflicted, wandering, weeping brother? shall I say, you are suitably penetrated by his gracious invitation, and that you would come with weeping, and supplication; that you would fly with gratitude, and prostrate yourself before Him, were you not so much injured by your wanderings; that you feel you are not able, and that you should blush to ask his assistance? Is this your message? poor, poor soul! never fear, your gracious Father will shortly send you every needful aid." All this was said to me; at least, to my wondering spirit, it thus appeared; and I seemed as if expiring, amid the mingling emotions of regret, apprehension, and hope.
I left the tabernacle under these potent impressions; and, crossing Moorfields, I was overtaken by one of my old religious connexions, who, regarding me with wonder, said, "Am I so happy as to see you, one of the many who where at the tabernacle this evening?" My reply was indicative of the sorrow of my heart. He proceeded to make many remarks, until, in the moment of separation, he said, "Well, my friend, perhaps, you will go, from hence, into company where you will forget all that you have this evening heard." My heart was very full; and from its abundance I said, No, never will I again mingle in circles calculated to efface impressions, which I will cherish to the latest hour of my existence. Let these tears, these fast-falling tears, evince my sincerity. My friend rejoiced in the prospect of my returning to the path, from which I had wandered; but he rejoiced with fear and trembling. He knew my connexions were numerous, and that my vivacity rendered me the life ​of those convivial circles, where I had so long figured. But the grace of God upheld me, and never, from that moment, did I unite with those associates, from which I was at first separated by necessity.
I was now an insulated being. I carefully avoided my former companions, and my religious connexions avoided me; thus I had now abundant leisure for reflection. Some time elapsed, before the change, which had taken place, reached the extremity of those circles, in which I had moved. Many who heard, lent no credence to a report, which they believed without foundation. The greater number of those laughter-loving beings, who had attached themselves to me, never having imbibed any religious sentiments, had not learned the habits of my former life. Many individuals called upon me as usual, and found me a different man, from him, whom they had been accustomed to see. A few, suspecting the cause, sought to relieve my mind, by warm, and liberal assurances of never-failing friendship; and they generously tendered the unlimited use of their purses! I made my acknowledgments; but assured them, the whole world, as a bribe, would be insufficient to lead me again into paths of folly. I was not, I said, unhappy because I no longer possessed ability to run the career of error, certainly not; my infelicity originated, from the consideration, that I had ever receded from the paths of peace. Some resented my remarks, as a tacit insult upon themselves; others ridiculed me, and pronounced me under the influence of a strong delirium; and two or three, who still loved me too well to separate themselves from me, were, for a time, induced to reflect seriously upon their own situation: but these, also, shortly disappeared; and, of the numerous triflers, with whom I had so many months fluttered, not a single loiterer remained; and most devoutly did I render thanks to Almighty God, for extricating me from such associates. I boarded in the house of a very lively, vivacious man; indeed, his whole family might have been denominated sons and daughters of mirth: This fact had been their principal recommendation to me, but it now added to the burden of my mind. I made inquiry after another lodging, but, on contemplating a removal, difficulties, to which I had not before recurred, stared me in the face. I was considerably in arrears to my host, and, as I must depart in a different state of mind, from that which I was in, when I became his lodger, and which had impressed him in my favour; I could not expect he would be very kindly disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and my distresses seemed hourly to accumulate. Both present and future support were alike beyond my reach, and it appeared to me, I had attained ​the climax of misery. I closed my door, I prostrated myself before the God who had created me, beseeching him to have mercy upon me; again my sad, my sorrowing heart, revisited the home I had abandoned; stripped of its allurements, my mad passion for travelling appeared in its native deformity; agonizing dread overtook me, and my terrified imagination pointed out, and anticipated, a thousand horrors. Many devices were suggested to my forlorn mind, and death itself was presented as my last resort. But starting from an idea so impious, Let me, I exclaimed, at least avoid plunging into irremediable perdition. Thus I spent the day, and in the evening I attended the tabernacle. I considered myself, while there, as the most destitute individual in the whole assembly. I generally occupied a remote corner, my arms were folded, my eyes cast down, and my tears flowing; indeed, my eyes were seldom dry, and my heart was always full; for, at this period of my life, I rarely tasted any thing like consolation. Coming out of the tabernacle, one evening, a serious young man thus accosted me: "Cheer up, thou weeping, sorrowing soul—be of good cheer, thy God will save thee." I caught his hand; God bless you, my dear sir, whoever you are! but you do not know to whom you are speaking. "Oh yes, I am speaking to a sinner, like myself." No, no, I returned, the wide world does not contain so great a sinner as myself; for, in the face of an education, calculated to eradicate every evil propensity; and of precepts, and examples, drawn from our most holy religion, which ought to have rendered me a uniform servant of the Most High; I have mingled in circles, consisting of the idle, the dissipated, and the profane; I have run the career of folly, and the anguish of my soul is a consequence of my manifold offences. The kind-hearted young man, strove to pour into my wounds the oil and wine of consolation. We walked together, quite through Moorfields; at his request, I promised to meet him at the tabernacle the ensuing evening, and I was greatly impatient for the appointed time. Passing Moorfields, agreeably to my engagements, I beheld a large congregation assembled to hear one of Mr. Wesley's preachers: I tarried until I saw the preacher mount the stage, but what were my emotions, when I recognised him, of whom I was so fond, in the house of Mr. Little, and who first introduced me as a public speaker. I hastily withdrew from the place, terrified, lest his eye should meet mine; but my soul was tortured by the comparison of what I was, when I first saw him, with my present situation. I was this evening much affected; indeed, it was impossible for any child of sorrow to attend upon Mr. Whitefield, without feelings of the most ​impressive nature. I looked around for my companion of the past evening, but I saw him not; and I was pained by the disappointment. On my departing from the tabernacle, however, he again took my hand, assuring me, he was glad to see me, and repeating a verse of a hymn: "We shall not always make our moan," &c. &c. which hymn, I had often sang, and of which I was very fond. I melted into tears; this man appeared to me, as an angel of God, and most devoutly did I bless the Father of my spirit, for sending me such a comforter. I was in haste to unbosom myself to him, to make him acquainted with the extent of my errors; but this was a subject, upon which he did not seem in haste to hear me. He, however, urged me to draw consolation from the promises of our God, which he pronounced all yea, and amen, in the Redeemer: He also expressed a wish to meet me, at the table of the Lord, upon the following Sunday; for this, my own heart ardently panted, and I engaged, if possible, to obtain a ticket of admittance. My concern for my very reprehensible aberrations, as they affected my spiritual interest, so completely occupied my mind, that I had little leisure for reflection upon my pecuniary embarrassments, yet my circumstances were truly deplorable. I was in debt, without the means of making payment, nor had I any prospect of future support. I disdained to ask charity, and the business, of which I had obtained a superficial knowledge in Ireland, was not encouraged in London. The friend, whom I first saw at the tabernacle, had continued a vigilant observer of my conduct; he had frequently visited me, and my eyes convinced him I was no longer the gay, inconsiderate wanderer, but truly a man of sorrow. Compassionating my sufferings, he invited me to his pleasant home, and, in a voice of friendship, requested I would pour into his bosom all my griefs. I did so, and his resolution was instantly taken. To my great consolation, he engaged to procure me, immediately, another lodging, to make my present landlord easy, and to procure for me, if I was willing, the means of future support; and this, without rendering me dependent, except upon my own regular efforts, and the Being, who had called me into existence. Let the feeling heart judge of the indescribable transports, which this conversation originated in my soul. Gratitude swelled in my bosom; I experienced all its sweet enthusiasm; and hardly could I control my impatience, for the execution of a plan, in every view so desirable. The lodging was immediately obtained; it was at the house of an old lady, in Bishopgate's street, where was appropriated solely to my use, a neat, and well furnished apartment. The succeeding morning, this benevolent ​gentleman attended me to my late lodging, when, inquiring the amount of my debt, I was answered, "Not a penny." I stood amazed. "No," said my good-natured host, "not a penny. But pray what is the matter, where have you been, where are you going? O! dear, O! dear, these abominable Methodists have spoiled as clever a fellow, as ever broke bread; I suppose you think we are not good enough for you, and so you wish to leave us." I was greatly affected. Excuse me, sir; I do not believe myself a whit better than you; but, sir, I am afraid of myself. "Ah! you have no occasion: I am sorry you are going, upon my soul I am. You ought to stay and convert me." Ah! sir, it is God, who must convert both you, and me. We shed tears at parting; but our tears flowed from a different source. He wept, that he should no more be amused with the whim and frolic of a gay young man; I, that I had ever sojourned in his house. I was, however, suitably impressed by his kindness, although our intercourse from this moment entirely ceased. The following week, I obtained a situation, as one of the aids to an inspector of a broadcloth manufactory; I was glad to obtain employment at any rate. Yet it is a fact, I was never designed for a man of business. Nor was I fully satisfied with my associates; they were not in my way, and they, therefore, made me a subject of ridicule; this, to weak minds, is perhaps a species of persecution, of all others the most difficult to endure. I certainly suffered much from it; but, if I could obtain no satisfaction with them, I had the more, whenever I left them, which was upon the evening of every day, and the whole of Sunday. I was delighted by the consideration, that I was living by my own exertions, and in a way to discharge debts, which were a heavy burden upon my mind. I lived frugally, retrenching every superfluity, and uniformly denying myself all, but the absolute necessaries of life; and I had very soon the felicity of knowing, that I had no longer a creditor. This complete exoneration was followed by a newly revived and ecstatic hope, of being again admitted to my father's house, from which, I once feared, I was eternally excluded: And I deemed myself happy, beyond expression happy, upon comparing myself with those, among whom I was compelled to live; who were posting, without concern, in what I deemed the road to ruin, from which I had, by divine favour, been mercifully drawn; my bosom swelled with the most delightful sensations, while I frequently exclaimed, Lord, why me? Why take me, and leave these poor, unfortunate beings to perish in a state of sin, and misery? But such was the sovereign will and pleasure of my God; he would have mercy, on whom he would ​have mercy, and whom he would be hardened. Sometimes, indeed, my soul was sick with doubt and apprehension. When engaged in the work of self-examination, one evil propensity, after another, which I had believed dead, seemed to revive in my bosom: I feared, that my faith was all fancy; and that the hope, which I encouraged, was the hope of the hypocrite, which would be as the giving up of the ghost. Upon these occasions, I experienced unutterable anguish, and my days and nights were, with very little intermission, devoted to sorrow. The distress, I so evidently suffered, endeared me to my new religious connexions; every one of whom endeavoured to administer consolation, encouraging me to cherish hope, from the consideration of my despair! My life was now more active than it had ever been, and my connexions more numerous. I was much occupied by business, yet my hours of devotion were sacred; I rose at four o'clock, in summer and winter. My meals consumed but a small portion of time. The moments, thus passed by others, were, by me, devoted to private prayer. My evenings were passed at the tabernacle, and, when Mr. Whitefield preached, my soul was transported. I returned home exceedingly refreshed, and prostrating myself at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowledged with gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, who had graciously separated me from those, who were murdering their time, and their precious souls; and my thanksgivings were reiterated to that God, who had mercifully rescued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus rolled on the week, until Sunday; to me, indeed, a holy day, and one to which I looked forward with the most delightful anticipations. Upon this morning, I arose even earlier than usual; attending either at the tabernacle, or at the chapel, in Tottenham-court, at which places the communion was alternately given, every Sunday morning. Great numbers attended upon these occasions, who were not regular tabernacle worshippers; obtaining a ticket of admittance, they took their seats. It appeared to me, like a prelibation of heaven. The Elect of God, from every denomination, assembled round the table of the Lord; a word of consolation was always given, and an evangelical hymn most delightfully sung. These Sunday mornings were, indeed, golden opportunities; my doubts were generally removed, and I came home in raptures. It was in such a peacefully religious frame of mind as this, that I was passing from the tabernacle, on a fine summer's morning, deriving high satisfaction from the consideration, that I loved the brethren. I know, said I, internally, that I have passed from death unto life, because I love the brethren. It is true, I felt a very strong ​affection for those, with whom I had communed in the tabernacle; but, passing over Moorfields, I saw a crowd of people, collected under the shade of a large tree. I inquired of a passenger, what occasioned the assembling of such a multitude; and I was informed, one of James Relly's preachers was disseminating his damnable doctrines to the infatuated people! My soul kindled with indignation; and, from the abundance of an heart, overflowing with religious zeal, I could not forbear exclaiming: Merciful God! How is it, that Thou wilt suffer this Demon thus to proceed? are not mankind naturally bad enough, but must these wretches be suffered to give publicity to tenets, so pernicious, so destructive? thus, in the name of God, doing the work of the Devil. At this period, I should have considered myself highly favoured, to have been made an instrument, in the hand of God, for taking the life of a man, whom I had never heard, nor even seen; and, in destroying him, I should have nothing doubted, that I had rendered essential service, both to the Creator and the created. I did not then know, how much I was leavened with the leaven of the Pharisees; and that, notwithstanding my assurance of having passed from death, unto life, in consequence of loving the brethren, this boasted love extended to none, but those of my own persuasion. I always returned from the tabernacle, with my heart filled with religious zeal. The intermission of public worship was always appropriated to private devotion; in a word, all my devotional habits were restored, and my Sundays were an exact transcript of those, which I had passed in the family of my father. The Sundays, upon which I took my seat at the communion table, in the chapel, were more abundantly fatiguing. The chapel was some miles from my lodgings; but I never absented myself, either summer or winter, and I greatly exulted when I was the first, who appeared within its consecrated walls. The more I suffered in reaching this place, the more I enjoyed when there; and often, while passing the streets of London, in the midst of storms of rain or snow, my heart has swelled with transport, in the thought, that I was going to Heaven by means of these difficulties, and trials; while the many, who were then sleeping, were suspended over the pit of destruction, into which they must one day fall, to rise again no more forever. And why, Oh! why, I used to repeat, am I snatched, as a brand from the burning; why am I, an offender against light, against precept, and example, made a blessed heir of Heaven, while far the greater part of my species are consigned to endless misery? There were a number of young people, of both sexes, who, having assembled from a great distance, could not return ​home after service, in season for breakfast. One of the society kept a house near the chapel, where individuals thus circumstanced were accommodated. There we often collected, and our opportunities were delightful. Being remarkable for a humble demeanour, I was, on this account, much noticed and caressed; and I rarely quitted the assembly without a heart overflowing with love, and gratitude, toward God and His dear children. I was not confined to any particular place of worship; I was accustomed to present myself, at the stated times, in various congregations; wherever I heard of a great man, I made a point of attending upon his labours. Among the many places of public worship, to which I resorted, there was a Baptist meeting, where I obtained great satisfaction. The minister was a warm, animated preacher, and the people uncommonly serious. To this house many of the Tabernacle adherents resorted; for, at this time, there was no service at that place, except in the morning, and evening. In a vestry, attached to the Baptist meeting, many of the congregation met, before the commencement of divine service, and some of them alternately sang and prayed. By those persons, I was received with great kindness; this affected me exceedingly; and perceiving that it did, they loved me yet more for the value I evidently set upon their affection, till, at length, I became an object of general attention. United plans were laid to draw me out, and I had pressing invitations to their religious societies, and afterwards to their houses. The minister distinguished me; solicited me to visit him; and delighted to speak peace to me, both publicly, and privately. I was entreated to pray in the society, which, as a timid, and unpatronized stranger, I had so recently entered! I complied, and every one seemed affected; I myself was greatly moved, deeply penetrated by reflection, upon what I had been, and what I then was, and my soul was transported by the consideration, that I was re-admitted into the society of the people of God. My presence was now anxiously expected in the congregation, and at the houses of many individuals; I was marked by those, who attended at the tabernacle, and many other places of worship; and I was so much caressed, by serious people of sundry persuasions, that, when I have been asked, what denomination I was of, I have replied, an independent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. I hardly knew which of those I liked best, or loved most; and Mr. Whitefield, upon whom they all occasionally attended, strove, both by precept and example, to convince us, that a difference, respecting non-essentials, was utterly inconsistent with the Christian character.
​Among the many, who extended to me the hand of amity, was a merchant, who never appeared so happy, as when conversing with me; he received me into his house, and employed me in his counting room; here I fancied my circumstances improved, but I was deceived. This gentleman was a mere superficial professor of Religion, which, when I discovered, I determined to return to my former situation. I had paid all my debts; I was easy, and occasionally happy, and I allowed myself many little indulgences, which, while a debtor, I should have believed criminal.
The leaving my new patron gave me, however, some pain; he had a very high opinion of me, although I could not reciprocate his esteem. He was ambitious of obtaining a name in the Church, and, for this purpose, he contemplated the observance of morning and evening prayer in his family; but, not being an early riser, he was at a loss to know how to reconcile his devotions with his business. At last he said: "You, my friend, are accustomed to perform the honours of my table. If you prolong your grace at breakfast, it will answer for morning prayer!" Greatly shocked, and completely disgusted, my determination to quit him was confirmed. I was still very communicative, and, consequently, the reason of my departure was generally known; so that my once warm friend was, as may be supposed, converted into a bitter enemy. I was, however, rather commended, than censured, while the conduct of the man of business excited general contempt. This gratified me! alas, the piety of this world is based on pride! I now became, as far as I was known, an object of attention in every place, where vital Religion, as it was phrased, obtaining its votaries. Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and many other clergymen, distinguished me. Hints were thrown out respecting my once more coming forward as a public teacher; but against this I was determined. I was astonished, that I had ever dared to venture upon so responsible an assumption! As the eternal well being of the many was supposed to rest with the preacher, an error in judgment would consequently be fatal to his hearers; and, as I had now learned that I was not perfect in knowledge, I could not be assured, I should not lead the people astray; in which tremendous event they would, to all eternity, be imprecating curses on my head. Considerations of such magnitude were sufficient to seal my lips; but I was characterized as a pattern of piety, and my experiences were greedily sought, by individuals of various denominations. There was a society, belonging to a Baptist meeting, near Good Man's fields, which met statedly at each other's houses once ​every week; this was the society, in which I was most admired, and to which, of course, I was the most attached. In this society there were individuals, who, like myself, were tabernacle worshippers, but who attended this meeting, when there was no service there. I had surrendered up my whole soul to those religious exercises, which the several societies, to which I had attached myself, demanded. My plan was to devote myself wholly to my God, to the advancement of my spiritual interest, to considerations pertaining to the kingdom of heaven. Wedded life, a family, these made no part of my plan; I was persuaded, I should pass my life in celibacy; and, had monastic seclusion consisted with Protestantism, I should gladly have embraced its retirement, with its duties. In the society, collected near Good Man's fields, there was a young gentleman remarkable for the sanctity of his manners; we were strongly, and mutually attached to each other. Many, very many happy hours did we pass together. During the winter, we were constantly at the tabernacle before day. We narrated to each other our experiences; we prayed, we wept, we joyed, and sorrowed together; and, with unfeigned affection, we loved one another. I questioned him respecting his connexions, when he informed me, that his parents had died in his infancy; that he had been brought up by his grandfather, who was a very profligate old gentleman, and abhorred the very name of Whitefield! But, he added, that, through the mercy of God, he was not entirely alone. He had a sister with him in the family, reared also by his grand parent, who was a good, and gracious girl; that their nights were frequently devoted to prayer; but that they dared not let their grandfather know they had ever been seen at the tabernacle, or in any of those societies, from which they derived their chief happiness. Indeed, he observed, his sister seldom ventured out; but he had made such representations of me, that she had desired him to let her know, when I should again meet the Baptist society, and she would make a point of being there; and, I request you, said he, my dear sir, to be at the society next Sunday evening, and she will most unquestionably be there. I cannot say, I had any curiosity respecting this young lady; but Sunday night came, I was expected, and the great room was filled previous to my arrival. I entered, every one rose at my entrance, and I felt dignifiedly pious, seriously happy. My young friend approached, and told me, in a whisper, his sister would have been greatly disappointed, had any thing detained me that evening. On my entrance I had glanced a young lady, extremely beautiful, who appeared attired by the hand of elegance; it was with ​difficulty I could take my eyes from her! I was confounded, I changed my seat, that I might not behold her, and, when thus addressed by Mr. Neale, I responded by asking where his sister was seated, when he pointed to the fascinating figure, who had so imposingly attracted my attention. "That young lady, sir, is Miss Neale—my sister; she has long wished for an opportunity of seeing you; I am happy that she is now gratified." An introduction was in course; I had much to say through the evening, and my friend declared I had never spoken better. I addressed the throne of grace; my own heart was softened, and the hearts of my audience were softened also. I returned home, but the beauteous image of the sister of my friend accompanied me! I could not for a moment exclude the lovely intruder from my imagination. I was alarmed; I wept, I prayed, but every effort was fruitless; the more I strove to forget her, the more she was remembered. I was impatient to behold her again, yet I most devoutly wished we had never met. I was convinced my peace, my happiness were forever fled! This was truly astonishing; I had recently been so positive, that the combined sex did not possess the power to engage my attention for a single moment. Some time elapsed, during which the captivating engrosser of my heart never relinquished, no, not for a single instant, that entire possession, which she had taken of my imagination; when, after an evening lecture, while the congregation were quitting the meeting-house, a lady, who kept a boarding-school for young ladies, requested I would pass the next evening at her house, as her young people were to collect their friends, and she wished some one to introduce religious conversation. I had no inclination to accept this invitation, and I accordingly made my excuses; but the good lady continued to press me, and added, I expect Miss Neale will be of the party. Of this imposing article of intelligence, I experienced the full force; but I endeavoured to disguise my emotions; and, the request being once more repeated, I consented, and returned home, notwithstanding all my resolutions, transported with the prospect of once more beholding the dear object of my admiration. That I was now become a real lover, there could be no doubt. I was early at the place appointed, and my enraptured heart danced with joy, when I once more beheld the triumphant fair one; I was happy to observe, that she regarded me with marked attention, but her predilection was rather for the Christian, than the man. I was, however, beyond expression elated, and my conversation partook of the elevation of my soul. The evening was nothing; it was gone, ere I was sensible it had well commenced. Eliza, ​for that was her fascinating name, arose to take leave; I was greatly chagrined, I had calculated upon attending her home; but a confidential friend had been sent to take charge of her. I ventured, however, to express a hope, that I should see her at Mrs. Allen's, a friend, warmly attached to us both, on the following Wednesday evening. She modestly replied, she would endeavour to be there; and in the interim, I sought to learn if she were disengaged, but I could obtain no satisfactory information. The appointed evening was passed most delightfully, at Mrs. Allen's; I had the felicity of attending the young lady home, and the temerity to ask such questions, as extorted an acknowledgment, that she was not engaged. With trembling eagerness, I then ventured to propose myself as a candidate for her favour. "Alas! sir," she replied, "you have formed too high an opinion of my character; I trust you will meet a person much more deserving of you, than I can pretend to be." I re-urged my suit, with all the fervour, which youth, and an irrepressible passion could furnish. Her answer is indelibly engraved upon the tablets of my memory. "You, and I, sir, profess to believe in an over-ruling Providence, we have both access to the throne of our heavenly Father. Let us, sir, unbosom ourselves to our God; I shall, I do assure you; so I am persuaded will you; and if, after we have thus done, we obtain the sanction of the Most High, I trust I shall be resigned." We had now reached her habitation, the threshold of which, no professed follower of Whitefield was ever allowed to pass. I supplicated for permission to write to her, and, in the full confidence of Christian amity, she acceded to the prayer of my petition. From this period, no week passed, during which we did not exchange letters, and the pages, we filled, might have been submitted to the most rigid inspection. Mrs. Allen was our confidant, and every letter, which passed between us, was put into the hand of this discreet matron, without a seal. At the house of this lady we had frequent interviews, but never without witnesses, and our time was passed in singing hymns, and in devout prayer. I now believed myself the happiest being in creation; I was certain of possessing a most inestimable treasure; and although the grandfather of my Eliza, upon whom rested her whole dependence, never saw me; and, if he had, never would have sanctioned our union, we cherished that hope, which so generally proves fallacious. The dear girl requested me to seek, and obtain the explicit approbation of her brother, that she might at least insure his countenance; and upon my application to him, he unhesitatingly replied: "I consider, dear sir, my sister as highly honoured ​by your proposals." But, sir, have we your consent? "Undoubtedly, sir, and with my whole heart." This was sufficient, and I was completely happy. But, alas! "never did the course of true love run smooth." We were on the verge of a most distressing calamity: this brother, in whom we had reposed unlimited confidence, became my inveterate foe, and writing an anonymous letter to his grandfather, he represented me as a fortune-hunter, who was seeking to obtain the heart of his grand-daughter, for the purpose of making a prey of her property! This letter produced the desired effect; the old gentleman was extremely irritated, and, sending for Eliza, he put the letter into her hand, and sternly asked her, if she had entered into any engagement with a person by the name of Murray? when, receiving an answer in the affirmative, he gave full credit to all the rest, and being a man of violent passions, he threatened her with the loss of his favour, if she did not immediately promise to renounce me forever. He was well apprized, if he could obtain her promise, he had nothing further to apprehend. The firm, self-collected girl, implored his pardon, if she did not yield credence to the slanders, contained in the despicable scrawl he had placed in her hand; she besought him to see me, to converse with me; promising, that if, upon a personal acquaintance, he continued to disapprove, she would endeavour to bend her mind to an acquiescence with his will. Her grandfather was inexorable; he would admit no conditions; and ultimately assured the young lady, if she did not relinquish every thought of me, she must give up all idea of ever receiving a single penny of his property. He granted her three days for deliberation, during which period, she was to consider herself a prisoner. Of this, most unexpected event, I speedily gained intelligence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To Eliza I could have no access, and even the intercourse, by letter, was suspended! In this state of agonizing suspense I remained, until, through the instrumentality of the chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Allen for me, which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her sufferings, contained the fullest assurance of her unbroken faith, and steadfastness. She recommended it to me, to apply to the same Source, from whence she herself had derived consolation; to the Almighty Father of our spirits, who held in His hands all hearts; and, she added, that no power, short of Omnipotence, should ever prevail upon her to give her hand, unaccompanied by her heart; and that, in a few hours, she should be so circumstanced, as to prove the sincerity of my affection, for she was speedily to render her final answer to her ​grandfather. She hoped for divine support, during the arduous trial, to which she was called to submit; and she most earnestly solicited my prayers in her behalf. A second letter was soon handed me, giving an account of the second interview. "Well, my dear child," said the old gentleman, "what am I to expect? am I to lose my daughter, the comfort of my declining life? Or will you have compassion upon my old age, and relinquish this interested, designing man?" "If, my dear sir, I had any reason for supposing the person, of whom you speak, such as you believe him, the relinquishment, which you require, would not cost an effort; but, sir, Mr. Murray is an honest man, he has a sincere affection for me, I have given him reason to hope, and, until I am convinced he is unworthy of my esteem, I cannot consent to treat him as if he were." Here the passions of the old gentleman began to rise, whn the dear girl besought him to be calm, assuring him it was neither her wish, nor intention to leave him; nay more, she would pledge her word never to leave him, while she could have the felicity of attending upon him, if he would not insist upon her violating her faith, tacitly given to me. But this would not do; she must abandon her lover or her fortune; and finding her determined, he arose from his chair, and seizing his will, in which he had bequeathed her one thousand pounds sterling, he furiously flung it into the flames, immediately causing another will to be written, in which he gave to her brother, the portion designed for her: and thus did this young incendiary obtain the object, for which he had laboured, and to which he had most nefariously, and darkly, grouped his way. I had now the felicity of learning, that my Eliza had a stronger value for me, than for her patrimony; and she observed to her grandfather, that he had furnished her with an opportunity of proving the sincerity of my attachment. "If," said she, "his views are such, as you have been taught to believe, he will shortly relinquish me, and thus have I, most opportunely, obtained a criterion." Never did I receive a piece of intelligence productive of so much heart-felt pleasure, as the certainty of that potent prepossession, which could thus enable her, whom I esteemed the most perfect of human beings, to surrender up, without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. Words cannot delineate, how greatly I conceived myself enriched by this blissful assurance. Still I met the brother of Eliza, at the Tabernacle, and occasionally at private societies, and still he wore the semblance of amity. Previous to this event, the elder Mr. Neale, who was always my friend, had become the head of a family; during a few weeks, we continued in statu quo, when my invidious calumniator ​requested me, by a written message, to give him a meeting at the house of his aunt, a lady who resided next door to his grandfather. I obeyed the summons, when, to my great astonishment, he informed me, it was his sister's wish, I would think of her no more; that there were many young ladies, with whom I might form a connexion, abundantly more advantageous; and that for herself, she was weary of contending with her grandfather. During the whole of this studied harangue, the torture of my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a most distressing pause, I tremblingly interrogated: Tell me, sir, has Miss Neale really empowered you to act in her behalf? "If you doubt it, here is a letter, written with her own hand, furnished me upon a presumption, that I might not obtain a speedy opportunity of seeing you;" and he put the letter into my hand. Mr. Neale knew not, that I was in possession of many of his sister's letters; he knew not, that she had ever written to me; if he had, he would hardly have exhibited this scrawl, as hers. The anguish of my soul was no more; yet I assayed to conceal my emotions, and contented myself with solemnly declaring, that it was only from the lips of Miss Neale I would accept my dismission. "You may," said he, "rest assured, you will never, with her own consent, again see that young lady." Thus spake, thus acted the man, whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's communion. Leaving Mr. Neale, I returned to my lodgings, sat down and related to Eliza the whole business, inclosing the letter I had received as hers. The ensuing day gave me an assurance, under her own hand, that the whole procedure was unknown to her; requesting, that I would remain perfectly easy; that I would keep my mind entirely to myself, making application only to the wonderful Counsellor, and resting in full assurance of her fidelity. This was enough, and my full soul rejoiced in the consolation, thus seasonably afforded me. Mr. Neale, supposing his arts had succeeded, brought forward proposals in favour of a gentleman, educated by his grandfather, who had long loved my Eliza; but who, fearful of a rejection, had not disclosed his passion. Common fame soon wafted to my ear the report of these new pretensions; the gentleman was, in every respect, my superior, and he was declared a successful rival. I met the object of my soul's affection at Mrs. Allen's; I communicated the lacerating intelligence I had received; she smiled, tacitly assured me I had not much to apprehend, and according to custom, added, Let us improve our opportunity in the best possible manner, let us devote it to prayer, and to praise. Thus revolved days, weeks, and months; hoping, and fearing, joying, and sorrowing, ​while my gentle, my amiable friend, painfully reciprocated every anxiety. It was supposed, by her connexions, that she had relinquished her purpose in my favour, and a succession of advantageous proposals were brought forward, all of which she decisively rejected. Once a week, she was permitted to visit, when she never forgot to call upon Mrs. Allen. She also allowed me to attend her every Sunday morning before day, during the winter; and I considered myself supremely happy, in the privilege of presenting myself at her dwelling, on those holy days, by four o'clock, waiting her appearance; and often have I been eyed with suspicion by the watch, and, in fact, I was once taken up. Neither storms nor tempests arrested my steps; and sometimes I have tarried, until the dawning day compelled me to retire, when I was obliged to pass on, in melancholy solitude, to the Tabernacle. Yet, between love and devotion, I was a very happy, very disconsolate being. I richly enjoyed the pleasures of anticipation, which are generally believed to exceed possession; yet my own experience is very far from acknowledging the justice of this hypothesis. I continued in this state more than a year, snatching enjoyments when I could, and placing confidence in futurity. In the course of this year, my insidious, although still professing friend, married a lady of some property—two thousand pounds sterling; his grandfather adding two thousand more, one of which he had designed as provision for his grand-daughter; and, strange as it may appear, this angel girl uttered not, upon this occasion, a single reproach! The new alliance strength-ed the family interest against me; the lady, without knowing me, was my inveterate foe. It was about this time discovered, that the attachment of Eliza remained in full force. Her grandfather imagined, that we cherished hope of a change in his sentiments, or that we should ultimately, at least in the event of his death, come into possession of some part of his property; and, that he might effectually crush every expectation, he so managed, as to put his most valuable possessions out of his own power. The period at length arrived, which completed the minority of my tender friend; it was upon the eighteenth day of May, and this day, the elder Mr. Neale, who, as has been observed, had still continued my fast friend, determined to render a gala, by passing it with me in the country. With the early dawn we commenced our little excursion, when we beheld, at a distance, a young lady with a small parcel in her hand; we approached her, and, to our great astonishment, recognised, in this young lady, the sister of my friend, the precious object of my most ardent love. Upon that memorable ​morning she had quitted the house of her grandfather, and all she possessed, that had been his, leaving upon her writing desk a letter, which lay there, until the family, alarmed at her not making her appearance at the breakfast table, entered her apartment, whence the lovely sufferer had so recently flown. The letter furnished an explanation; it was addressed to her grandfather, and it informed him, that the writer would ever acknowledge unreturnable obligations, for the many favours he had conferred upon her; that, if she could have been indulged with her wish of living with him, she should have been content; but, as the solicitations to enter into matrimonial engagements, by which she was persecuted, were unceasing, she was convinced she should not be allowed to give this testimony of her filial attachment; and being now of age, she begged leave to deliver up the keys, the sums of money, with which she had been entrusted, and whatever else had pertained to her grandfather; adding an assurance, that she should no more return. Her brother William immediately conducted her to his house, whither I attended them, and where, by her positive orders, we were obliged to leave her. Agreeably to her request, we proceeded on our proposed walk, and we learned on our return, that repeated messengers had been dispatched by her grandfather, soliciting her again to become an inmate in his house, and that the lady of her youngest brother had been commissioned for this purpose; but that every entreaty had proved ineffectual. For me, fondly flattering myself, that I should immediately exchange my vows with my amiable, my affianced friend, at the altar of our God, I was superlatively happy; but again my high-wrought expectations proved fallacious. This strong-minded woman was a votary of propriety, and she was determined it should not appear, that she had quitted a parent, for the purpose of throwing herself into the arms of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal roof, because she could not, while there, be allowed the exercise of her own judgment; because measures were taking to compel her to marry a man, she could never approve. Her eldest brother, her beloved William, she was confident would patronize, and protect her; and her needle was a resource, from which she could always derive a competency.