“My dear, very dear Friend,—Preaching and travelling prevent writing. Through unmerited mercy, I am well; but, for several reasons, I decline going to Scotland this fall. I have a blessed Methodist field, street-preaching plan before me. This afternoon, in the Castle Garth. To-morrow, Sunderland. Next day, at Mr. Romaine’s mother’s door (at Hartlepool.)[586] Then to Yarm, etc. You may venture to direct for meat Mr. William Shent’s, peruke-maker, at Leeds; but send me no bad news, unless absolutely necessary. Let me enjoy myself in my delightful itinerancy. It is good, both for my body and soul. I have been enabled to preach in the street at several places; and hope to go to Guisborough, Whitby, Scarborough, Malton, York, Leeds, Liverpool, Chester, Manchester, etc., etc. You shall know particulars as we go on. Tender love to all friends. Golden seasons! Golden seasons! Grace! Grace!”
Immediately after Whitefield’s departure from London, Bartholomew Carrol and three other burglars broke into his house, stole a large quantity of linen and other articles, were arrested, and committed for trial at the Old Bailey.[587] In the following letter to Mr. Keen, Whitefield refers to this unpleasantness:—
“Thirsk, September 28, 1767. Never was I so long a stranger to London affairs before. What part of the paragraph is true, about the commitment of several persons for a certain robbery? I hope that death will not be the consequence to any of the criminals. Father, convict, and convert them for Thy infinite mercy’s sake! I should be glad to ramble till their trial is over. I trust there will be no necessity of my appearing in person. To-morrow, God willing, I go to Dr. Conyers.[588] He earnestly desires to see me. Where the next remove will be, I know not. Be pleased to direct to Leeds. Every stage, more and more, convinces me, that old Methodism is the thing. Hallelujah!”
Two days after the date of this letter, Whitefield was at Leeds, and wrote: “I have been enabled to go forth into the highways and hedges, into the streets and lanes of the towns and cities. Good old work! Good old seasons! Help, help to praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever!” Whitefield’s labours were still of sufficient importance to attract the attention of the public press. Lloyd’s Evening Post of October 2 had the following announcement: “For about a fortnight past, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield has been travelling, and preaching, at York, Thirsk, Yarm, Hartlepool, Stokesley, Sunderland, and Newcastle, where his congregations have been very numerous.”
Whitefield was requested to visit Fletcher at Madeley, but the distance, and the season of the year, deterred his going. He, however, spent two or three days at Huddersfield,[589] withVenn, who had recently lost his wife by death. While in Venn’s home of sorrow, he wrote:—
“Huddersfield, October 6, 1767. How is death scattering his arrows all around us? The call to us is loud, very loud. Its language is quite articulate. ‘Watch and pray, for ye know not at what day or hour the Son of Man cometh.’ What is this world? Nothing, less than nothing. What is the other world? An eternity of endless misery or endless bliss. We have no time to trifle, to be light, foolish, or worldly-minded.”
It ought to be kept in mind, that, in all the towns mentioned in the foregoing extracts, Wesley and his preachers had already formed Societies, and that Whitefield went among them, not as Wesley’s rival, but as his helper. For many years, in his country excursions, Whitefield, without ostentatiously professing it, acted in this capacity,—an important fact, which Whitefield’s biographers, for some reason, have not noticed. Whitefield and Wesley were never firmer friends than now. Writing to Mrs. Moon, of Yarm, a few weeks after Whitefield’s return to London, Wesley says:—
“In every place where Mr. Whitefield has been, he has laboured in the same friendly, Christian manner. God has indeed effectually broken down the wall of partition which was between us. Thirty years ago we were one; then the sower of tares rent us asunder; but now a stronger than he has made us one again.”[590]
On reaching London, Whitefield, in a jubilant strain, wrote to his old helper, Thomas Adams:—
“London, October 12, 1767.