He now directed his steps again towards New York. His former visit to that city disappointed him. He could not forget this by the way. My heart was somewhat dejected. I told Mr. Noble (his companion) I expected but little movings in New York; but Mr. Noble bid me expect great things from God; and told me of several who were, as he hoped, savingly wrought upon by my ministry, when there last." Accordingly, the impression was great for New York-then. It made him cry out in his chamber, "Lord, why did I doubt ?" Under his first sermon, a few cried out; and even his friend Noble could hardly refrain.

On the sabbath, however, he was much dejected, before the evening sermon. "For near half an hour, I could only lay before the Lord, saying,—I was a miserable sinner, and wondered that Christ would be gracious to such a wretch. As I went to meeting, I grew weaker; and when I came into the pulpit, I could have chosen to be silent, rather than speak."

As might be expected, this self-emptying was followed by a rich unction from on high. "After I was begun, the whole congregation was alarmed. Crying, weeping, and wailing, were to be heard in every corner; and many seen falling into the arms of their friends. My own soul was carried out, till I could scarce speak any more." Still, the Common was not needed at

New York.

Next day he went to Staten Island, on his way back to Philadelphia; preaching by turns with Gilbert Tennent. At Baskerredge, a poor negro woman, who had been converted under his sermon, somewhat embarrassed, as well as pleased him, by her gratitude. She insisted upon going along with him, (to Savannah, I suppose,) and told him that her master had consented to let her go. He says, "I bid her go home, and with a thankful heart serve her present master."

At New Brunswick he found, if not a warmer, a more influential, friend in Aaron Burr, afterwards the president of New Jersey College; one of the master-spirits of his age and country. Whitefield owed much to this friendship, besides the degree of A. M. in 1754. It was mainly through Burr's influence that

Gilbert Tennent was induced to go to Boston, to water the seed Whitefield had sown there.

As they drew nearer Philadelphia, they had a most providential escape. "There were two creeks in the way, much swollen with rain. In one of them, two of my fellow-travellers, in all probability, must have perished, had not a woman cried out, and bid us stop. A man (as I afterwards found) who had been touched by my ministry, hearing my voice, came and swam our horses over the other creek, and conducted us safe over a very narrow bridge."

On his arrival at Philadelphia, he found a house, 100 feet long and 70 broad, building for him to preach in. He opened it, although the roof was not on; and continued to preach in it every day, until the snow (it was now the middle of November) drove him to the chapels again. One afternoon, whilst preaching against "reasoning unbelievers," his sermon made but little impression on the people. An infidel caught at this failure of effect; and said to one of Whitefield's friends, "What! Mr. W. could not make the people cry this afternoon?" "A good reason for it," (said his friend,)" he was preaching against deists, and you know they are a hardened generation." He was not, however, always so unsuccessful amongst the Philadelphian infidels. Brockden, the recorder, who had long been almost an atheist, was induced to steal into the crowd at night, to hear him for once. The sermon was on Nicodemus's visit to Christ. Brockden's visit to Whitefield had a similar motive. He saw, as he afterwards confessed, that "the doctrine did people good." When he came home, his wife (not knowing where he had been) wished that he had heard what she had been hearing. He said nothing. Another and another of his family came in, and made the same remark. He burst into tears, and said, "I have been hearing him, and approve of his sermon." Whitefield afterwards knew him as a christian with the spirit of a "martyr."

His tour was now closing. On reviewing it, before he sailed for Charleston, he says,-"Stop, O my soul, and look back with gratitude on what the Lord hath done for thee, during this excursion. It is now, I think, the seventy-fifth day since I arrived at Rhode Island. My body was then weak; but the

Lord has renewed its strength. I have been enabled to preach, I think, a hundred and seventy-five times in public, besides exhorting frequently in private. I have travelled upwards of eight hundred miles, and gotten upwards of £700 sterling, in money, &c. for the Georgia orphans. Never did God vouchsafe me greater comforts. Never did I perform my journeys with so little fatigue, nor see so much of the divine presence in the congregations."

In this spirit he arrived at Bethesda, and found all his family well. For some time he was much occupied with making his arrangements for sailing to England; and having completed them, and taken "a sorrowful and affectionate leave" of his family, he went to Savannah to take leave there also. On the way, he narrowly escaped being shot by a labourer, who was walking with a gun under his arm, only two yards behind him. The gun went off unawares; but its mouth was towards the ground. "Otherwise," he says, "in all probability, I and one of my friends must have been killed."

Whilst at Charleston, waiting for a vessel, he received many inspiring letters from his Boston friends, informing him of the amazing progress of conversion in the city and throughout the province. He received also a copy of the following letter.

"To all and singular, the constables of Charleston.-WHEREAS I have received information on oath, that George Whitefield, clerk, hath made and composed a false, malicious, scandalous, and infamous LIBEL against the clergy of this province, in contempt of his Majesty and his laws, and against the king's peace-THESE are therefore, in his Majesty's name, to charge and command you and each of you forthwith, to apprehend the said George Whitefield, and bring him before me, &c. &c. &c. Given under my hand and seal, B. W."

This mandate referred to a Letter, which Whitefield had only revised for the press. It was written by one of his friends, and had just come out on his arrival at Charleston. The writer was apprehended, and meanly (Whitefield says "frankly ") confessed that "corrections and alterations" had been made by Whitefield.

I have not seen the Letter. Whitefield's account of it is,

that "it hinted that the clergy break the canons."

If this was all, he might well write with emphasis in his diary, “I think this may be called PERSECUTION! I think it is for righteousness' sake."

:

He went before the magistrate at once, and gave security for appearing by attorney, under a penalty of £100, proclamation money. He became his own attorney, however, before he left. Even next day, he preached in the morning upon Herod's stratagem to kill Christ in the afternoon on the murder of Naboth. That he did not spare the persecutors, is evident. "My hearers," he says, "as well as myself, made application. It was pretty close. I especially directed my discourse to men in authority, and showed them the heinous sin of abusing their power." Neither the commissary, nor the magistrate, slept on a bed of roses that night. Public opinion was against them. The people so overloaded him with sea-stores for his voyage, that he had to send much of the stock to Savannah. Next day, January 15th, he embarked for England, on board the Minerva, and arrived at Falmouth early in March. On the sabbath following he was again on Kennington Common-but with "not above a hundred" to hear him.

CHAPTER VIII.

WHITEFIELD'S BREACH WITH WESLEY.

WHITEFIELD's absence from London extended from August, 1739, to March, 1741; during which, as we have seen, he founded his orphan-house, traversed America with varied success, and revived the revivalists of Northampton, as well as caught the spirit of Jonathan Edwards and the old puritans of New England.

On his return, he soon found occasion for all the faith and patience he had acquired in America. They were both tried to the utmost, for a time. His own account of the new and unexpected situation he found himself in, is very touching. "What a trying scene appeared here! In my zeal, during my journey through America, I had written two well-meant, though illjudged, letters, against England's two great favourites, 'The whole Duty of Man,' and Archbishop Tillotson, who, I said, knew no more about religion than Mahomet. The Moravians had made inroads on our societies. Mr. John Wesley, some way or other, had been prevailed on to preach and print in favour of perfection and universal redemption; and against election, a doctrine which, I then thought, and do now believe, was taught me of God; and therefore could not possibly recede from.

Thinking it my duty so to do, I had written an answer at the orphan-house, which, though revised and much approved by some good divines, had I think some too strong expressions about absolute reprobation, which the apostle leaves rather to be inferred than expressed. The world was angry at me for the former, and numbers of my own spiritual children for the latter."