“John Wesley.”
Such was Wesley’s encouraging advice to this noble penitent. Soon afterwards, Lady Maxwell became a member of the Methodist society, and continued such until her death in 1810.
Returning to Newcastle, Wesley started, on June 21, for Whitehaven, of whose society he writes: “What has continually hurt this poor people is offence. I found the society now all in confusion, because a woman had scolded with her neighbour, and another had stolen a twopenny loaf. The want of field preaching, also, has been one cause of deadness here. I do not find any great increase of the work of God without it. If ever this is laid aside, I expect the whole work will gradually die away.”
On June 25, he came to Kendal, where “the people had been so harassed by seceders, and disputers of every kind, that they were now dry and dead as stones.” The next day he preached four times, and rode fifty miles, without weariness. He then made his way to Otley, Guiseley, Keighley, Bradford, Birstal, Leeds, Wakefield, Dewsbury, Halifax, Huddersfield, and Manchester. For the last ten days, he had preached three times every day, and many of the times, in the open air. He then proceeded to Bolton, Wigan, Liverpool, Warrington, Chester, Macclesfield, Congleton, Burslem, Madeley, and Shrewsbury. The enumeration of these places will furnish an idea, not only of Wesley’s labours, but of the chief towns where Methodism had been introduced.
From Shrewsbury, he went through Wales to Bristol. On the first day’s journey, he and his companion were in the saddle from four o’clock in the morning till eight at night, when they found they had missed their way. They were told to ride in a certain direction; but their path soon ended in a bog. Then an honest man mounted his horse, and galloped before them, up hill and down, till he brought them into a road, which, he said, led to Roesfair. They rode on, till another met them, and said, “No; this is the way to Aberystwyth. If you would go to Roesfair, you must turn back, and ride down to yonder bridge.” At the bridge, the master of a little public house directed them to the next village, where they inquired again, and were again set exactly wrong. Having wandered an hour upon the mountains, “through rocks, and bogs, and precipices,” they got back to the bridge, whence they had been directed. It was now past ten o’clock, and they had been riding and preaching for the last eighteen hours; but to obtain rest was impracticable; for the public house was full of drunken, roaring miners; and, besides that, there was but one bed in the roadside inn, and neither grass, nor hay, nor corn for cattle. At length, they hired one of the miners, who was “miserably drunk,” to walk with them to Roesfair whither they were travelling. On his way, the man fell all his length into a river, which partly restored his senses. Between eleven and twelve they reached their destination; but, even here, provender for their beasts of burden there was none; and, to make bad things worse, the ostler and the miner, after the travellers were gone to bed, mounted the jaded animals for a ride; and, next morning, the mule of Wesley’s friend was found cut in several places, whilst Wesley’s horse was bleeding from a wound, two inches deep, made, it seemed, by a stroke with a pitchfork. Wesley got safe to Bristol on August 4.
Here we must pause, in his itinerancy, to notice other matters, which occurred during his five months’ journey.
One is a letter referring to exercise on horseback, not inappropriate to the adventure just related. The letter was addressed to his friend, Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, who had begun to drive his carriage.
“Liverpool, July 14, 1764.
“Dear Sir,—My brother informs me, that you have been so extremely ill, that your life was hardly expected. I really am under apprehensions lest that chariot should cost you your life. If, after having been accustomed to ride on horseback for many years, you should now exchange a horse for a carriage, it cannot be that you should have good health. It is a vain thing to expect it. I judge of your case by my own. I must be on horseback for life, if I would be healthy. Now and then, indeed, if I could afford it, I should rest myself for fifty miles in a chaise; but, without riding near as much as I do now, I must never look for health.
“I am, dear sir,