however, that he was unwilling to preach. All I want to show is, that he had no designs upon London, and no idea of creating a sensation in it. He could not, however, be hid long. His former visit was not forgotten, and his fame in Bristol had reached the metropolis. "The stewards and members of the religious societies" found him out, and forced him out, on behalf of their charity schools: a work which their successors carry on, with great fidelity and perseverance, to this hour! I mean no reflection upon stewards. They thus call out ministers, who would otherwise shrink from publicity; and extend over London the influence of talents and piety, which must otherwise have been confined to a corner. It is not their fault, if another Whitefield has not been found out. Had there been another in the empire since, the nets of religious societies would have caught him: and, whenever there is another, they are sure to bring him into full notice and employment! Whitefield says, with great simplicity, "The stewards of religious societies were very fond of hearing me." No wonder: he collected upwards of a thousand pounds for the schools alone; " in those days," says Dr. Southey, "a prodigious sum; larger collections being made than had ever before been known on like occasions."

Whitefield himself has drawn a distinction between the feelings with which he accepted invitations from societies, and the feelings with which he assisted clergymen on the sabbath. “I embraced the invitations to preach and assist in administering the sacrament." "With great reluctance I was prevailed on to preach a charity sermon at Wapping chapel." On both occa"So sions he was, however, equally successful. many came to the sacrament at Cripplegate, St. Anne's, and Foster Lane, "that sometimes we were obliged to consecrate fresh elements twice or thrice, and the stewards found it somewhat difficult to carry the offerings to the communion table." In like manner, "more was collected at Wapping chapel, for the charity, than had been for many years." At St. Swithin's also, instead of ten shillings, as formerly, "eight pounds were collected."

This was too great a novelty then to be concealed. "Next morning as I was at breakfast with a friend at the Tower, I read in one of the newspapers, that there was a young gentleman going

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volunteer to Georgia, had preached at St. Swithin's, and collected eight pounds, instead of ten shillings; three pounds of which were in halfpence; and that he would preach next Wednesday before the societies, at their general quarterly meeting. This advertisement chagrined me very much. I immediately sent to the printer, desiring he would put me in his paper no more. His answer was, that he was paid for doing it, and would not lose two shillings for any body. By this means people's curiosity was stirred up more and more. On Wednesday evening Bow church, in Cheapside, was crowded exceedingly. I preached my sermon on Early Piety; and at the request of the societies printed it. Henceforward, for nearly three months successively, there was no end of people's flocking to hear the word of God. Sometimes constables were obliged to be placed at the doors, without and within. One might, as it were, walk upon the people's heads. Thousands went away from the largest churches for want of room. I now preached generally nine times a-week. The people were all attention, as hearing for eternity! The early sacraments were exceedingly awful! Oh how often at Cripplegate, St. Anne's, and Foster-lane, have we seen Jesus Christ crucified and evidently set forth before us! On Sunday mornings, long before day, you might see streets filled with people going to church, with their lanthorns in their hands; and hear them conversing about the things of God."

By thus specifying the spot where Whitefield preached his first published sermon, Bow church will be reconsecrated, in the estimation of many, and Bow bells sound more sweetly. Such is the force of association. Its laws, like those of nature, can neither be set aside nor weakened. Only hallowed men can make hallowed ground; and no minister becomes hallowed to posterity, but "he that winneth souls." Accordingly, Bow

bells remind us of no one but Whitefield. His one sermon invests that church with more sacredness than its consecration, and with more interest than the whole series of its corporation

sermons.

There is neither venom nor vapouring in this remark. Visitors from the country, and from America, pause even in Cheapside

to gaze at the spire under which George Whitefield preached. They remember no one else. Why? Because no one else has "so preached" there, "that many believed." Thus it is only the salvation of immortal souls that stamps religious immortality upon "solemn temples." Accordingly, not all the talent and piety which graced the pulpit at Whitehall during the Protectorate, nor all the rank which has been in it and around it since, can awaken one spiritual emotion or recollection. Even Baxter, Owen, and Howe, can hardly be realized there, as ministers of the glorious gospel. A barn, where either of them had preached Christ to the poor and the perishing, would make our hearts burn within us; but in the chapel-royal, they are remembered only as great men. Had Simeon of Cambridge, that" Paul the aged," preached there but once, before singing his Nunc dimittis, he would have been more remembered by posterity, than all his late predecessors put together. It is utterly in vain to sneer or reason against this law of association. Nothing gains or retains a hallowed hold upon the sympathies of the pious, but usefulness. Mere talent and heartless orthodoxy can no more endear or dignify a church now, than relics from Rome or Jerusalem.

But, to return. Whitefield had soon to pay the usual price of popularity. "As my popularity and usefulness increased, opposition increased proportionably. At first, many of the clergy were my hearers and admirers; but some soon grew angry, and complaints were made that there was no room for the parishioners, and that the pews were spoiled. Some called me a spiritual pickpocket; and others thought I made use of a charm to get the people's money. A report was spread abroad that the bishop of London, upon the complaint of the clergy, intended to silence me. I immediately waited upon his Lordship, and inquired whether any complaint of this nature had been lodged against me. He answered, No. I asked his Lordship whether any objection could be made against my doctrine? He said, No: for he knew a clergyman who heard me preach a plain scriptural sermon.' I asked his Lordship whether he would grant me a license? He said, 'I needed none, as I was going to Georgia.' I replied

Then your Lord

ship would not forbid me.' He gave me a satisfactory answer -and I took my leave."

Why has Dr. Southey stripped the bishop's courtesy of all its grace? He says of the bishop, "Evidently he thought this (Georgia) a happy destination for one whose fervent spirit was likely to lead him into extravagances of doctrine as well as of life." This is no compliment to his Lordship's wisdom, whatever it be to his policy. Even his policy was bad, if this be true; for what could be worse in principle or policy, than letting loose upon an infant colony an extravagant chaplain? Thus Dr. Southey has imputed to the bishop, unwittingly, a heartless, if not reckless, indifference to the religious interests of Georgia; for if Whitefield was dangerous even in London, where he could easily be counteracted, if not controlled, how much more dangerous he must have been in a distant colony! This inference is inevitable, if there was any real danger to be apprehended from Whitefield's doctrine or example. It is easy to say, that "the whole force of his enthusiasm might safely expend itself" in Georgia; but Dr. Southey should not have said this; for he had just said before, of the disorders raised in the colony, that Charles Wesley had, " in truth, been the occasion of them, by his injudicious zeal." But, enough of this. Southey is no doubt right in saying, that the bishop was glad, and that some of the clergy rejoiced "in Whitefield's departure," as a happy riddance. He guessed well, although he reasons ill, in this instance. Accordingly, the bishop's "satisfactory answer" to Whitefield did not prevent some of the London clergy from shutting their pulpits against him. "Soon after this, two clergymen sent for me, and told me they would not let me preach in their pulpits any more, unless I renounced that part of the preface of my sermon on Regeneration, wherein I wished, that my brethren would entertain their auditories oftener with discourses on the new birth. This I had not freedom to do-and so they continued my opposers."

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"What, I believe, irritated some of my enemies the more, was my free conversation with many of the serious dissenters, who invited me to their houses; and told me repeatedly, that if the doctrine of the new birth and justification by faith was

preached powerfully in the church, there would be but few dissenters in England.' Who the dissenters were that said this, cannot now be ascertained: but, certainly, they were not serious dissenters, nor sound reasoners, however serious they may have been as christians; for wherever these doctrines are powerfully preached in the church, there are many dissenters. The progress of both dissent and methodism keeps pace with the progress of evangelical sentiment in the church, and ever must do whilst they continue evangelical. Whitefield was, however, simple enough to believe what he wished, and honest enough to act accordingly, in this instance. My practice in visiting and associating with (these dissenters) I thought was quite agreeable to the word of God. Their conversation was savoury; and I judged, ('rightly,' says Dr. Southey,) that the best way to bring them over, was not by bigotry and railing, but by moderation and love, and undissembled holiness of life."

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"But these reasons were of no avail. One minister called me a pragmatical rascal, and vehemently inveighed against me and the whole body of dissenters together." Dr. Southey explains the "serious offence" thus taken by the clergy, by saying," for the evils which puritanism had brought on this kingdom were at that time neither forgotten nor forgiven." No thanks to the Doctor, if ever they should be so! He has done all he could to perpetuate their memory. It will not, however, live long. The accidental evils of puritanism, like those of the Reformation, will soon be forgiven, and forgotten too, in the enjoyment of the truth and liberty which the puritans bought and sealed with their blood. Wycliffe and Baxter, Latimer and Owen, Cranmer and Howe, will be associated and enshrined names in the temple of christianity, when all who have hindered their identification will be nameless, or named only to be pitied and wondered at for ever..

Whitefield found pulpits in London, until he embarked for America. Not many, indeed, seem to have been shut against him. "I have been wearied almost to death," he says, "in preaching." "The nearer the time of my embarkation approached, the more affectionate and eager people grew. All ranks gave vent to their passion. Thousands and thousands of