Wesley began the year 1770 with a covenant service in London, at which eighteen hundred Methodists were present,—a sight worth seeing.

In his leisure moments, he employed himself in reading; and, as usual, makes racy remarks on men and books. Having finished Dr. Burnet’s “Theory of the Earth,” he writes: “He is doubtless one of the firstrate writers, both as to sense and style; his language is remarkably clear, unaffected, nervous, and elegant; and none can deny, that his theory is ingenious, and consistent with itself.” He read Rousseau upon education, and says: “But how was I disappointed! Sure a more consummate coxcomb never saw the sun! How amazingly full of himself! Whatever he speaks, he pronounces as an oracle. But many of his oracles are as palpably false as that ‘young children never love old people.’ But I object to his temper more than to his judgment: he is a mere misanthrope, a cynic all over. So indeed is his brother infidel, Voltaire; and well-nigh as great a coxcomb. But he hides both his doggedness and vanity a little better; whereas, here it stares us in the face continually. As to his book, it is whimsical to the last degree; grounded neither upon reason nor experience. The advices, which are good, are trite and common, only disguised under new expressions; and those which are new, which are really his own, are lighter than vanity itself. Such discoveries I always expect from those who are too wise to believe their Bibles.”

Baron Emanuel Swedenborg, after rendering great service to science, and thereby winning the esteem of Charles XII., and receiving the honour of being enrolled among the members of the academies of Upsal, Stockholm, and Petersburgh, came to London in 1743, attended the Moravian chapel in Fetter Lane, went mad,⁠[79] and began to write and publish the visionary books, containing the creed of the Swedenborgians. Wesley writes: “I sat down to read and seriously consider some of the writings of Baron Swedenborg. I began with huge prejudice in his favour, knowing him to be a pious man, one of a strong understanding, of much learning, and one who thoroughly believed himself. But I could not hold out long. Any one of his visions puts his real character out of doubt. He is one of the most ingenious, lively, entertaining madmen, that ever set pen to paper. But his waking dreams are so wild, so far remote both from Scripture and common sense, that one might as easily swallow the stories of ‘Tom Thumb,’ or ‘Jack the Giant Killer.’” The baron died two years after this, and was buried in the Swedish church in Wellclose Square, London.

In the month of February, Wesley, for the last time, took part in a religious service, and administered the sacrament, in the mansion of the Countess of Huntingdon, in Portland Row. Thomas Maxfield was present, and though a few years before he had been one of the strongest sticklers in favour of the wild doctrines propounded by George Bell and other sanctified ones in London, he now, in Wesley’s own presence, spoke strongly against his doctrine of Christian perfection.⁠[80] This might be gratifying to her ladyship and her Calvinistic friends; but it would have been in better taste for Maxfield, at least, to have maintained, on such a subject, a respectful silence. No doubt, foolish ideas had been circulated; but Wesley can hardly be held accountable for these. His own doctrines on the subject were based upon Scripture, and these he was ready to defend, and resolved to propagate. It is true, that his anticipations respecting the great work, which was professedly wrought in London and elsewhere, had not been realised. Even Miss Bosanquet had lost the blessing of Christian perfection;⁠[81] and Wesley, in a letter dated March 15, 1770, confesses that, of those who professed to obtain it, hardly one in thirty retained it. “Many hundreds in London,” says he, “were made partakers of it, within sixteen or eighteen months; but I doubt whether twenty of them are now as holy and as happy as they were.”⁠[82] This was a humiliating fact, and gave to Wesley’s opponents a great advantage; but, in itself, it was no disproof of Wesley’s doctrine; and can scarcely be considered a satisfactory excuse for Thomas Maxfield, of all men living, attacking his friend in the house of his Calvinistic foes.

Wesley’s friend Whitefield was in America, preaching with as much zest as ever; and, just at this juncture, Wesley addressed what proved to be his last letter to his old and always faithful coadjutor; but the letter contains not a single syllable respecting the slight which had been cast upon him by a man whom gratitude ought to have taught better manners.

The college business above mentioned was simply this. Six years before, Whitefield had informed the council of Georgia, that he had already expended £12,000 upon his Orphan House; that he was now anxious to attach to it a college, to which the respectable inhabitants of Georgia, Virginia, and the West Indies might send their sons to be educated; that, in order to accomplish his purpose, he was prepared to lay out a considerable sum of money “in purchasing a large number of negroes” for the cultivation of the lands, and for the “future support of a president, professors, and tutors;” and that he now asked the council to grant him, in trust, for the purposes aforesaid, two thousand acres of land, on the north fork of Turtle River. The council yielded his request at once, and with the greatest pleasure. Whitefield then memorialised the king to grant a charter for the founding of the college, stating that, if this were done, he was “ready to give up his present trust, and make a free gift of all lands, negroes, goods, and chattels, which he now possessed in Georgia, for the support of the proposed institution, to be called by the name of Bethesda college, in Georgia.” A long official correspondence followed. The government were not unwilling to grant a charter, but they insisted that the president of the college should be a minister of the Church of England, and that there should be a daily use of the Church liturgy. These were conditions which Whitefield respectfully declined; and hence the charter asked for was refused. The result was, Whitefield added to his Georgian orphan house a public academy, by the erection of two additional wings, one hundred and fifty feet each in length; and, a month before Wesley wrote his letter, opened the new building, by preaching before his excellency the governor, and before the Georgian council and assembly, from, “The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundations of this house, His hands shall also finish it; and thou shalt know that the Lord of hosts hath sent me unto you; for who hath despised the day of small things?” Thus Whitefield left behind him, in America, a complex orphanage and college, for the support of which he had obtained grants of land to the extent of 3800 acres, and had bought seventy-five male and female negroes for the purpose of cultivating his extensive farm, and making it productive.⁠[84]

We have already seen that Wesley was not only urged, but was more than willing, to visit his newly instituted societies in America. Pilmoor was working hard at New York, and Boardman at Philadelphia; a number of negroes had been converted; the work was growing; and the young evangelists—​Boardman of seven, and Pilmoor of five years’ standing—​wished for advice and help.⁠[85] Wesley had nearly arrived at the age of threescore years and ten; but, if his way had opened, he would have bounded off across the Atlantic with as little anxiety as he was accustomed to trot to the hospitable Perronet home at Shoreham. The obstacles however were insurmountable. There was no one, during his absence, to take his place as superintendent general of the societies in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland; and to this must be added the strong objections of the people to let him go. “If I go to America,” said he, “I must do a thing which I hate as bad as I hate the devil.” “What is that?” asked his friend. “I must keep a secret,” he answered; meaning, that he must conceal his purpose, otherwise his societies would interfere, and effectually prevent his going.⁠[86]

On the 5th of March, Wesley set out on his journey to the north, which occupied the next five months. Coming to Newbury, he writes: “I had been much importuned to preach here. But where? The Dissenters would not permit me to preach in their meetinghouse. Some were then desirous to hire the old playhouse; but the good mayor would not suffer it to be so profaned! So I made use of a workshop,—a large, commodious place. But it would, by no means, contain the congregation. All that could hear behaved well.”

From Newbury, Wesley proceeded to Bristol, Gloucester, Birmingham, and Wednesbury. He then made his way, through Staffordshire and Cheshire, to Manchester, where he arrived at the end of March, and made the following characteristic entry in his journal: “In this journey, as well as in many others, I observed a mistake that almost universally prevails. Near thirty years ago, I was thinking, ‘How is it that no horse ever stumbles while I am reading?’ (History, poetry, and philosophy, I commonly read on horseback, having other employment at other times.) No account can possibly be given but this: because, then I throw the reins on his neck. I then set myself to observe; and I aver, that, in riding above a hundred thousand miles, I scarce ever remember any horse (except two that would fall head over heels any way), to fall, or make a considerable stumble, while I rode with a slack rein. To fancy, therefore, that a tight rein prevents stumbling is a capital blunder. I have repeated the trial more frequently than most men in the kingdom can do. A slack rein will prevent stumbling if anything will. But in some horses nothing can.”

From Manchester, Wesley proceeded to Liverpool, Whitehaven, and Carlisle, preaching there, and at intermediate places. He writes: “At Carlisle, it was the day of small things; the society consisting but of fifteen members.” Methodism had been founded in this border city by Robert Bell, an exciseman; and its place of worship was a shed for sheltering carts. At almost every meeting the mob attended; stones and brickbats were often thrown, and the Methodists hissed at and otherwise abused.⁠[87]

Leaving Carlisle, Wesley made his way to Edinburgh, which he reached on April 20, and says: “I endeavoured to confirm those whom many had strove to turn out of the way. What pity is it, that the children of God should so zealously do the devil’s work! How is it, that they are still ignorant of Satan’s devices? Lord, what is man?” “The congregations were nearly as usual; but the society which, when I was here before, consisted of above one hundred and sixty members, was now shrunk to about fifty. Such is the fruit of a single preacher’s staying a whole year in one place, together with the labours of good Mr. Townshend!”

It was at this time that Wesley had his first interview with Lady Glenorchy.⁠[88] She writes: “The Rev. Dr. Webster⁠[89] and Mr. Wesley met at my house, and agreed on all doctrines on which they spoke, except those of God’s decrees, predestination, and the saints’ perseverance. I must, according to the light I now have, agree with Dr. Webster. Nevertheless, I hope Mr. Wesley is a child of God. He has been an instrument of saving souls; as such, I honour him, and will countenance his preachers. I have heard him preach thrice; and should have been better pleased had he preached more of Christ, and less of himself.”⁠[90]

Lady Glenorchy had recently opened St. Mary’s chapel, in which service was performed by presbyterians, episcopalians, and Methodists; but her ladyship now wished to have a schoolmaster and a minister of her own; and, notwithstanding her disparaging remarks on Wesley, she employed him to obtain them for her. A few weeks later she wrote to him as follows.

Within a week after this, Wesley obtained her ladyship a schoolmaster; and, at the beginning of the year following, sent her a minister, the Rev. Richard De Courcy, who had been a Methodist in Ireland,⁠[92] had been educated at Trinity college, Dublin, had obtained deacon’s orders, and had officiated as curate to Walter Shirley.⁠[93] Lady Glenorchy writes: “Mr. De Courcy is quite the person Mr. Wesley represented him,—of a sweet disposition, and wishes only to preach Christ to poor sinners wherever he finds an open door.”⁠[94] This was in February, 1771, and yet, within six months afterwards, on June 28, her ladyship writes again: “Before I left Edinburgh, I dismissed Mr. Wesley’s preachers from my chapel; first, because they deny the doctrines of imputed righteousness, election, and the saints’ perseverance; secondly, because I found none of our gospel ministers would preach in the chapel, if they continued to have the use of the pulpit; thirdly, because I found my own soul had been hurt by hearing them, and I judged that others might be hurt by them also.”⁠[95]

Thus, after Wesley had served her ladyship to the utmost of his power, he and his preachers were ignominiously expelled from the sacred precincts of St. Mary’s, and her chapel was left in the sole possession of Mr. De Courcy and his Calvinistic friends. It is right to add that, notwithstanding her Calvinism, Lady Glenorchy maintained, to the end of life, a warm friendship with her Methodist friend, Lady Maxwell, whom, at her death, she appointed her sole executrix, and the principal manager of her chapels, both in England and across the border.⁠[96]

To return to Wesley. From Edinburgh, he went to Perth, Dunkeld, and Inverness, at which last mentioned place Benjamin and William Chappel had been three months waiting for a vessel to return to London, and had employed the time in meeting the people every night to sing and pray together. Benjamin Chappel, who thus begun Methodism in Inverness, was a wheelwright, and, in after years, had the honour of being the first Methodist in Prince Edward’s Island.⁠[97]

At Aberdeen, as at Inverness and Nairn, Wesley preached in the kirk. At Arbroath, the society, though of but nine months’ standing, was the largest in Scotland, with the exception of that at Aberdeen. At Dunbar he preached in the new chapel, “the cheerfulest in the kingdom”; and, on May 21, reached Newcastle on Tyne; but here we pause to insert a letter of considerable interest.

Within the last two years, Wesley had met at Bristol with a clergyman, who was one of the king of Sweden’s chaplains, but who had recently spent several years in Pennsylvania. This gentleman, Dr. Wrangel, had strongly requested that Wesley would send preachers to America, nearly twelve months before Boardman and Pilmoor were appointed; and, further, to show his friendly feeling towards Methodism he had preached in the Bristol chapel to a crowd of Methodists, and “gave,” says Wesley, “general satisfaction by the simplicity and life which accompanied his sound doctrine.” Dr. Wrangel had now returned to Sweden, and wrote the following to Wesley.

Further correspondence followed, from which we learn that Dr. Wrangel himself, like Wesley, had been an open air preacher; but was now, not only the king of Sweden’s almoner, but “president of the consistory at court, and chaplain to all the royal orders.” He writes to Wesley in 1771: “Pray, dear sir, desire your society to intercede for me. I send you enclosed the letter of admission to our society. The rules, not yet being printed in English, we send in German. I sincerely thank you for the kind present of your sermons and books. I presented a copy of your sermon to the society, which was very acceptable. The society will have the life of Mr. Whitefield inserted in their Pastoral Collections, or account of the work of God abroad. I beg of you, sir, to remember me kindly to all your friends, not forgetting dear Kingswood. I have been greatly blessed in my labour amongst the great, and shall soon give a particular account of it.”⁠[99]

Thus, as England had its Wesleys, America its Whitefield, and Wales its Howel Harris, Sweden also had its great reformer,—Dr. Wrangel, once a field preacher, but now a founder of a quasi missionary society, and, as a faithful minister of Christ, bearing his testimony before kings and princes. Through Dr. Wrangel’s friendship with Wesley, Methodism had already, fifty-six years before its appointment of the Rev. Joseph Rayner Stephens to Stockholm, indirectly extended its influences to the Swedish capital, and had begun that wondrous work, which, fostered by the Rev. Dr. Scott, has issued in some of the most remarkable results recorded in mission history.

Wesley left Newcastle for London on the 11th of June, and, on his journey, preached for the most part thrice a day. At Whitby, one of his itinerants, of six years’ standing, “had set up for himself; his reasons for leaving the Methodists being—(1) that they went to church; (2) that they held perfection.” It is a remarkable fact, that sixty-five of the Whitby Methodists professed to be entirely sanctified. From Whitby, Wesley proceeded along the east coast to Robinhood’s Bay, Scarborough, Bridlington, and Hull.

From Hull, he made his way to Beverley, York, Tadcaster, Pateley, Otley, Yeadon, Heptonstall, Colne, Haworth, and Keighley. The Keighley, or Haworth, circuit, at this period, extended from Otley to Whitehaven, a distance of one hundred and twenty miles.⁠[100] Yeadon has just been mentioned. Here James Rhodes began to hold Methodist prayer-meetings as early as 1747; and here his brother Joseph preached the first Methodist sermon in Yeadon, in the house of Judith Jackson. Here Thomas Mitchell, one of Wesley’s bravest itinerants, was trained; and here William Darney, while preaching, was attacked by a mob, led on by Reynolds, curate of Guiseley, had eggs thrown at his face, was dragged out of doors, and then stamped upon. Here Jonathan Maskew, by the same godless gang, had his clothes torn off his back, and, in a state of nakedness, was trailed over the rough stone pavement, till he was a mass of bruises. The bush burned, but it was not consumed. In 1766, the first chapel was erected; and now, in 1770, it had to be enlarged.

At the beginning of July, Wesley spent about a week at Leeds, and in the surrounding towns and villages. He visited the orphanage of Miss Bosanquet, who had removed to Cross Hall, Morley. Her friend Sarah Crosby, in a letter dated July 13, 1770, remarks: “Mr. Wesley left Leeds yesterday. I never heard him preach better, if so well. In every sermon he set forth ‘Christian perfection’ in the most beautiful light. Mr. Rankin, who travels with him, is a blessed man, and seems to fear no one’s face. I believe there has not been such a time at Leeds for many years.”⁠[101]

From Leeds, Wesley proceeded to Doncaster, Epworth, Horncastle, Louth, and other places; and then, turning round, came back to Doncaster, and, from there, went to Rotherham, Sheffield, Derby, and Nottingham, preaching, not only there, but in many of the intervening villages and towns. He writes: “I preached at Bingham, and really admired the exquisite stupidity of the people. They gaped and stared, while I was speaking of death and judgment, as if they had never heard of such things before. And they were not helped by two surly, ill mannered clergymen, who seemed to be just as wise as themselves.”

In Loughborough market place, he preached to a congregation of some thousands, all of them still as night. This was his first sermon here; but, four years previous to this, some of his preachers had visited the town, and, among others, converted by their ministry, was Thomas Cook, who in humility, penitence, and self denial, was, even among the first Methodists, almost without an equal. For three months together, he would live on barley bread and water, often fasting, from even nourishment like that, for whole days together, and praying the whole night through. He invariably wore clothing of the coarsest material, and when urged to use an overcoat answered: “When you can assure me, that there is not a poor man destitute of one coat, I may then perhaps wear two.” For ten years, he prayed for all with whom he happened to converse; and as he lived, so he died,—humble, holy, loving, and devout,—saying in answer to a question, and with his characteristic self abasement, “Oh no! no funeral sermon for me!”⁠[102]

On Thursday, August 2, after a five months’ absence, Wesley got back to London; and, on August 7, met his conference; in reference to which, the following unpublished letter, addressed to Mr. Merryweather, at Yarm, is not without interest.

The difficulties of conference, in stationing preachers, are not novel.

There were now fifty Methodist circuits, one of which was America! There were a hundred and twenty itinerant preachers, and 29,406 members of society. Nearly £2,000 had been subscribed, during the year, towards defraying the chapel debts; and yet, in consequence of new erections, the aggregate debt was about the same. His chapels were becoming Wesley’s greatest burdens.⁠[103] It was resolved, that, during the coming year, no new chapel should be built, nor any old one altered, unless the entire expenditure were raised; and a proposal was made to vest all the chapels in a general trust, consisting of persons chosen from among the Methodists throughout the kingdom. This would have been a disastrous mistake. Fortunately it was not adopted.

Kingswood school, as usual, was a trouble. It had been opened two-and-twenty years, and had had, during that period, eight classical masters, five of whom had obtained episcopal ordination, and now a sixth, Joseph Benson, had not only entered himself a graduate at Oxford, but had exchanged Kingswood for Trevecca. No wonder that Wesley, at the conference of 1770, asked, “How can we secure our masters?” The answer was, “Ask each, before he is received, Do you design to stay here? have you any thoughts of being ordained? have you any design to preach?” It is a fact worth noting, that, during the remainder of Wesley’s lifetime, there was only one more classical master who became an ordained clergyman, and that was Mr. Benson’s immediate successor, Isaac Twicross.⁠[104]

Wesley found, that some of his preachers were still engaged in trade; and, hence, it was now agreed, that those who would not relinquish trading in cloth, hardware, pills, drops, and balsams, should be excluded from the brotherhood; but that, if any of them, like Thomas Hanby, John Oliver, and James Oddie, had a share in ships, there would be no objection to that.⁠[105]

The conference of 1770, however, will always be memorable chiefly, if not entirely, for its doctrinal minutes. From the first, Whitefield, Howel Harris, and their friends, had been Calvinists; and so were many of the evangelical clergy, patronised by the Countess of Huntingdon, as Romaine, Newton, Venn, Berridge, Shirley, and others. At an early period of their history, the two Wesleys agreed, with the Methodist Calvinistic leaders, to avoid preaching on Calvinistic topics to the utmost extent possible. Charles Wesley afterwards endorsed the document with the words “Vain Agreement.” So indeed it was: in fact it could hardly be otherwise. Wesley, more than once, tried to meet his friends at a sort of halfway house; but the attempt was dangerous, it exposed Wesley to suspicion, and it issued in a failure. We have already seen that, in 1743, Wesley, for the purpose of terminating their disputes, made concessions to Whitefield, respecting unconditional election, irresistible grace, and final perseverance, which it was impossible to defend. Accordingly, at the conference held a few months afterwards, he honestly confessed, that he had “unawares leaned too much towards Calvinism;”⁠[106] and proceeded to propound doctrines, which, in substance, were the same as those he now embodied in the theses of 1770. Twenty-six years had elapsed since then; but there was a striking resemblance between the two periods; and, substantially, the same cause for outspokenness. To say nothing more concerning Whitefield’s doctrines, it is important to bear in mind, that, in 1744, Moravianism, or rather Zinzendorfism, had turned the doctrine of justification by faith only into an antinomian channel; and now, in 1770, the same thing was practically being done by not a few who, at all events, were called Methodists. Mr. Fletcher’s description of the antinomianism of the period is a frightful picture; and though not so applicable to the followers of Wesley as to those of the Countess of Huntingdon’s connexion, yet the former were not so free from the antinomian poison as they should have been. Hence the publication of Wesley’s theological theses; substantially the same as he had enunciated in 1744; but not so guardedly expressed. As they led to the longest and bitterest controversy in Wesley’s history, we subjoin them in their entirety.

What was the result of these loosely worded propositions? The answer to this will extend over several years; but suffice it to say at present that the publication gave huge offence to the whole host of Calvinistic Methodists; and Lady Huntingdon declared, that whoever did not wholly disavow the theses should quit her college. Mr. Benson, her classical master, so far from disavowing, defended them, and hence sprung up a correspondence between Wesley and himself, from which the following are extracts.

The above refers to a letter which Wesley had addressed to Lady Huntingdon; but which has never yet been published. Evidently it was faithful, and also unpalatable. It seems to have strengthened prejudices against him, instead of removing them. His position also was not improved by anti-Calvinian publications over which he had no control. Mr. William Mason, who had been one of Wesley’s classleaders, but had left him, and was now a magistrate of the county of Surrey, and resided at Rotherhithe Wall,⁠[109] issued his “Axe laid to the Root of Antinomian Licentiousness; extracted from the works of Mr. Flavel.” 1770: 8vo, 36 pages. Another writer, signing himself “Academicus,” gave to the public a small octavo volume of 124 pages, entitled “The Church of England Vindicated from the Rigid Notions of Calvinism”; in which Sir Richard Hill is severely, perhaps abusively, flagellated for his virulent attack on Dr. Adams of Shrewsbury, and the Rev. William Romaine is charged with preaching a sermon which “shocked every serious and rational Christian that heard it.” All these incidents had to do with the lamentable anger and bitterness of the memorable Calvinian controversy which will soon demand attention.

The sessions of the conference of 1770 being ended, Wesley set out for Cornwall, where he spent the next three weeks. Returning to Bristol, he and his brother, at the beginning of October, agreed, at the request of the society, to administer to them the Lord’s supper every other Sunday; which arrangement, of course, rendered it necessary, that an ordained clergyman should reside at Bristol, or in its neighbourhood.

The rest of the year was occupied with his usual journeys to Oxfordshire, Bedfordshire, Northamptonshire, Hertfordshire, Norfolk, and Kent. Poor Whitefield was dead; and Wesley, if the way was opened, was quite ready to take his place, by including America within the bounds of his vast Methodist circuit. Hence the following to Mrs. Marston, of Worcester.

On Saturday, September 29, while on his way to Boston, in New England, Whitefield, at the importunity of the people, preached at Exeter, in the open air, a sermon nearly two hours long. At six o’clock next morning he was dead. A friend, addressing him just before he commenced his last sermon, said, “Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach.” “True,” replied the dying evangelist; and then turning aside, he clasped his hands, and, looking up, said: “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work, but not of Thy work.” Whitefield was buried, where he died, at Newburyport. Every mark of respect was shown to his remains. All the bells in the town tolled, and the ships in the harbour fired mourning guns, and hung their flags half-mast high. In Georgia, all the black cloth in the stores was bought up, and the church was hung with mourning; the governor and council met at the statehouse in habiliments of sorrow, and went in procession to hear a funeral sermon.

Whitefield intended to be interred in Tottenham Court chapel, and had told the congregation, that he should like the Wesley brothers to be interred beside him. “We will,” said he, “all lie together. You refuse them entrance here while living: they can do you no harm when they are dead.”⁠[111] Whitefield’s wish was not realised; but, at length, Wesley was admitted to Whitefield’s pulpit.

The Rev. Mr. Joss announced in Tottenham Court chapel on November 11, that, on the sabbath following, Wesley would preach a sermon there on Whitefield’s death, as it had long ago been agreed between the two, that whichever survived the other should preach the deceased’s funeral discourse.⁠[112] An immense multitude assembled. “It was,” says Wesley, “an awful season; all were as still as night.” On the same day, he preached again in Whitefield’s tabernacle in Moorfields. The hour appointed was half-past five; but the place was filled at three, and Wesley began at four. His text was the same at both places: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!” Whitefield’s characteristics were described as consisting of “unparalleled zeal, indefatigable activity, tender heartedness to the afflicted, and charitableness toward the poor, the most generous friendship, nice and unblemished modesty, frankness and openness of conversation, unflinching courage, and steadiness in whatever he undertook for his Master’s sake.” Wesley then sketched the doctrines Whitefield preached, and concluded thus.