where did Methodism win more marvellous victories than in Cornwall, and nowhere were Wesley and his followers more highly respected than in Staffordshire. Always collected and trustful in danger, always cheerful under hardships, always resolute to fulfil his engagements, always occupied about his Master's business, John Wesley toiled and endured for Christ's sake and the Gospel's, counting not his life dear unto him. A rigid economist of time, he rose early and lived by rule. You have no need to be in a hurry,' remonstrated a friend. Hurry!' was the response; 'I have no time to be in a hurry.' He made light of privations; they were trifles in comparison with his mission. When, in company with John Nelson, he itinerated through Cornwall, the sleeping accommodation was often bare boards, and they wanted food. 'Brother Nelson,' said he one night, 'let us be of good cheer; I have one whole side yet, for the skin is off but on one side.' Dining on blackberries plucked from the roadside hedge, he remarked, with grim joviality, 'Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful that there are plenty of blackberries; for this is the best country I ever saw for getting a stomach, but the worst I ever saw for getting food. Do the people think we can live by preaching?' But neither thought of turning his back on the inhospitable county. Once he had to cross the sands between Hayle and St. Ives, to keep an appointment at the latter place. The rising tide had covered the sands. The driver of the carriage feared to go 'Take the sea! take the sea!' shouted Wesley through the carriage window. In a moment,' says the ostler, 'I dashed into the waves, and was quickly involved in a world of waters. The horses were swimming, and the wheels of the carriage not unfrequently sank into deep hollows in the sands. I expected every moment to be drowned, but heard Mr. Wesley's voice, and saw his long white hair dripping with salt water. "What is your name, driver?" he calmly asked. I answered, "Peter." Peter," said he, "fear not; thou shalt not sink." With vigorous whipping, I again urged on the flagging horses, and at last got safely over. Mr. Wesley's first care was to see me comfortably lodged at the tavern; and then, otally unmindful of him on. 66 self, and drenched as he was with the dashing waves, he proceeded to the chapel and preached.' Long before Wesley's death most of the Methodist Societies and congregations had provided themselves with suitable meetinghouses. Many of the chapels were of a sufficiently humble pattern. Twenty-five years after his first visit to the town of Nottingham Wesley records, with much satisfaction, that he preached there ' in the new house.' This was a small octagon chapel, built at a cost of less than £130. Hitherto the services had been held in Matthew Bagshaw's house, which was ingeniously adapted to answer the double purpose of preaching-room and dwelling-place. The sitting-room proved too small for the congregation; immediately above it was the bed-chamber; a large trap-door was fixed in the ceiling of the lower room, and the preacher, perched upon a chair, itself standing on a table, could address the men in the extemporised gallery and the women on the ground-floor, much more effectually separated from each other than when only an aisle ran between them. Upon this the inexpensive chapel was a vast improvement, though many a hallowed association would be connected with Matthew Bagshaw's parlour and dormitory. Great as a preacher of repentance, John Wesley did not regard repentance and conversion as the end of his ministry. Regeneration was the indispensable preliminary to Sanctification. Wesley as earnestly enjoined holiness upon his converts as repentance upon the ungodly. His name is inseparably connected with the doctrine of Christian Perfection. One main reason why he gathered the awakened and justified into classes was that they might be trained in likeness to Christ Jesus, and have ever before them the most exalted standard. Herein he differs from George Whitefield, whose converts were left to seek spiritual instruction where they might; and hereby the foundation was laid for a permanent work, for influence extending to successive generations. During Wesley's lifetime Methodism spread beyond the country that gave it birth. He carried it himself to the sister kingdoms of Scotland and Ireland; and Dr. Coke and others carried it to the New World. Space would fail us to describe Wesley's happy and honoured old age. Long before his death public sentiment had completely changed towards him. Crowds continually flocked to hear him, and his journeys were like royal progresses. To the last he retained his compassionate interest in the inmates of our gaols and his love for little children. His last sermon was preached at Leatherhead, February 23rd, 1791. His was a remarkably hale old age. On January 1st, 1790, he enters in his Journal: 'I am now an old man, decayed from head to foot. My eyes are dim, my right hand shakes; but I can preach and write still.' And he did preach and write and travel throughout that year, and for nearly two months of the next. The death was of a piece with the life. The day before his departure he sang two verses of the hymn beginning, 'All glory to God in the sky.' He asked for a pen, but was unable to use it. 'Let me write for you,' said one; 'tell me what you wish to say.' 'Nothing, but that God is with us.' He sang again two verses of the hymn beginning, 'I'll praise my Maker while I've breath.' Then again he raised his voice in his last hymn till he was 'added to the heavenly choir': 'To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, He could sing no more, and ceased, saying, 'Now we have done; let us all go.' By-and-by he requested, 'Pray and praise.' And as John Broadbent supplicated for a blessing upon the system of doctrine and discipline Wesley had taught and enforced, the dying saint responded fervently. During his last night on earth he repeated again and again, 'I'll praise, I'll praise,' evidently trying to repeat the verses he had so lately sung. 'Farewell,' he said; and as Broadbent uttered, 'Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and this heir of glory shall come in,' John Wesley passed through the gates into the city, March 1st, 1791, aged eighty-eight years. 'In person, Wesley was rather below the middle size, but beautifully proportioned, without an atom of superfluous flesh, yet muscular and strong; with a forehead clear and smooth, a |