It was said by an old preacher, that they who would go to Heaven must do four sorts of services; hard service, costly service, derided service, and forY lorn service. Hard service Wesley performed all his life, with a willing heart; so willing a one, that no service could appear costly to him. He can hardly be said to have been tried with derision, because, before he became the subject of satire and contumely, he had attained a reputation and notoriety which enabled him to disregard them. These very attacks, indeed, proved only that he was a conspicuous mark, and stood upon high ground. Neither was he ever called upon forlorn service: perhaps, if he had, his ardour might have failed him. Marks of impatience sometimes appear when he speaks of careless hear"I preached at Pocklington," he says, "with an eye to the death of that lovely woman Mrs. Cross. A gay young gentleman, with a young lady, stepped in, staid five minutes, and went out again, with as easy an unconcern as if they had been listening to a ballad singer. I mentioned to the congregation the deep folly and ignorance implied in such behaviour. These pretty fools never thought that, for this very opportunity, they are to give an account before men and angels." Upon another occasion, when the whole congregation had appeared insensible, he says of them, "they hear, but when will they feel? Oh, what can man do toward raising dead bodies or dead souls!"

ers.

But it was seldom that he preached to indifferent auditors, and still more seldom that any withdrew from him with marks of contempt. In general, he was heard with deep attention, for his believers listened with devout reverence; and they who were not persuaded listened, nevertheless, from curiosity, and behaved respectfully from the influence of example. "I wonder at those," says he, "who talk of the indecency of field-preaching. The highest indecency is in St. Paul's church, where a considerable part of the congregation are asleep, or talking, or looking about, not minding a word the preacher says. On the other hand, there is the highest decency in a church-yard or field, where the whole congregation

behave and look as if they saw the Judge of all, and heard Him speaking from Heaven." Sometimes

when he had finished the discourse, and pronounced the blessing, not a person offered to move :-the charm was upon them still; and every man, woman, and child remained where they were, till he set the example of leaving the ground. One day many of his hearers were seated upon a long wall, built, as is common in the northern counties, of loose stones. In the middle of the sermon it fell with them. "I never saw, heard, nor read of such a thing before," he says. "The whole wall, and the persons sitting upon it, sunk down together, none of them screaming out, and very few altering their posture, and not one was hurt at all; but they appeared sitting at the bottom, just as they sate at the top. Nor was there any interruption either of my speaking or of the attention of the hearers."

The situations in which he preached sometimes contributed to the impression; and he himself perceived, that natural influences operated upon the multitude, like the pomp and circumstance of Romish worship. Sometimes, in a hot and cloudless summer day, he and his congregation were under cover of the sycamores, which afford so deep a shade to some of the old farm-houses in Westmoreland and Cumberland. In such a scene, near Brough, he observes, that a bird perched on one of the trees, and sung without intermission from the beginning of the service till the end. No instrumental concert would have accorded with the place and feeling of the hour so well. Sometimes, when his discourse was not concluded till twilight, he saw that the calmness of the evening agreed with the seriousness of the people, and that "they seemed to drink in the word of God, as a thirsty land the refreshing showers." One of his preaching places in Cornwall was in what had once been the court-yard of a rich and honourable man. But he and all his family were in the dust, and his memory had almost perished. "At Gwenap, in the same county," he says, "I stood on the wall, in the calm still evening, with the setting sun behind me,

and almost an innumerable multitude before, behind, and on either hand. Many likewise sate on the little hills, at some distance from the bulk of the congregation. But they could all hear distinctly while read, The disciple is not above his Master,' and the rest of those comfortable words which are day by day fullfilled in our ears.' This amphitheatre was one of his favourite stations. He says of it in his old age, "I think this is one of the most magnificent spectacles which is to be seen on this side heaven. And no music is to be heard upon earth comparable to the sound of many thousand voices, when they are all harmoniously joined together, singing praises to God and the Lamb." At St. Ives, when a high wind prevented him standing where he had intended, he found a little enclosure near, one end of which was native rock, rising ten or twelve feet perpendicular, from which the ground fell with an easy descent. "A jutting out of the rock, about four feet from the the ground, gave me a very convenient pulpit. Here well nigh the whole town, high and low, rich and poor, assembled together. Nor was there a word to be heard, nor a smile seen, from one end of the congregation to the other. It was just the same the three following evenings. Indeed I was afraid, on Saturday, that the roaring of the sea, raised by the north wind, would have prevented their hearing. But God gave me so clear and strong a voice, that I believe scarce one word was lost." On the next day the storm had ceased, and the clear sky, the setting sun, and the smooth still ocean, all agreed with the state of the audience.

There is a beautiful garden at Exeter, under the ruins of the castle and of the old city wall, in what was formerly the moat: it was made under the direction of Jackson, the musician, a man of rare genius in his own art, and eminently gifted in many ways. Before the ground was thus happily appropriated, Wesley preached there to a large assembly, and felt the impressiveness of the situation. He says, "It was an awful sight! So vast a congregation in that solemn amphitheatre, and all silent and still,

while I explained at large, and enforced that glorious truth, Happy are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered." " In another place he says, "I rode to Blanchland, about twenty miles from Newcastle. The rough mountains round about were still white with snow. In the midst of them is a small winding valley, through which the Darwent runs. On the edge of this the little town stands, which is indeed little more than a heap of ruins. There seems to have been a large cathedral church, by the vast walls which still remain. I stood in the church-yard, under one side of the building, upon a large tomb-stone, round which, while I was at prayers, all the congregation kneeled down on the grass. They were gathered out of the lead mines, from all parts; many from Allandale, six miles off. A row of children sat under the opposite wall, all quiet and still. The whole congregation drank in every word, with such earnestness in their looks, that I could not but hope that God will make this wilderness sing for joy." At Gawksham he preached "on the side of an enormous mountain. The congregation," he says, "stood and sate, row above row, in the sylvan theatre. I believe nothing in the postdiluvian earth can be more pleasant than the road from hence, between huge steep mountains, clothed with wood to the top, and watered at the bottom by a clear winding stream." Heptenstall Bank, to which he went from hence, was one of his favourite field stations. "The place in which I preached was an oval spot of ground, surrounded with spreading trees, scooped out, as it were, in the side of a hill, which rose round like a theatre." The congregation was as large as he could then collect at Leeds; but he says, "Such serious and earnest attention! I lifted up my hands, so that I preached as I scarce ever did in my life." Once he had the ground measured, and found that he was heard distinctly at a distance of seven-score yards. In the seventieth year of his age, he preached at Gwenap, to the largest assembly that had ever collected to hear him: from the ground which they covered, he computed them to

be not fewer than two-and-thirty thousand; and it was found, upon inquiry, that all could hear, even to the skirts of the congregation.

This course of life led him into a lower sphere of society than that wherein he would otherwise have moved; and he thought himself a gainer by the change. Writing to some Earl, who took a lively interest in the revival of religion which, through the impulse given, directly or indirectly, by Methodism, was taking place, he says, "To speak rough truth, I do not desire any intercourse with any persons of quality in England. I mean, for my own sake. They do me no good, and, I fear, I can do none to them." To another correspondent he says, "I have found some of the uneducated poor who have exquisite taste and sentiment; and many, very many of the rich, who have scarcely any at all."-" In most genteel religious people there is so strange a mixture, that I have seldom much confidence in them. But I

love the poor; in many of them I find pure genuine grace, unmixed with paint, folly, and affectation." And again, "How unspeakable is the advantage in point of common sense, which middling people have over the rich! There is so much paint and affectation, so many unmeaning words and senseless customs among people of rank, as fully justify the remark made 1700 years ago, Sensus communis in illâ fortunâ rarus."—" "Tis well," he says," a few of the rich and noble are called. Oh! that God would increase their number. But I should rejoice, were it the will of God, if it were done by the ministry of others. If I might choose, I should still, as I have done hitherto, preach the gospel to the poor." Preaching in Monk-town church, (one of the three belonging to Pembroke,) a large old ruinous building, he says, "I suppose it has scarce had such a congregation in it during this century. Many of them were gay genteel people; so I spake on the first elements of the gospel: but I was still out of their depth. Oh, how hard it is to be shallow enough for a polite audience!" Yet Wesley's correspondence with the few persons over whom he obtained any influence in higher life,