In the year 1765 her Ladyship bought a piece of ground in the Vineyards at Bath, and erected there a house and the beautiful chapel which was destined to prove so great a blessing. While those buildings were in course of erection, her Ladyship accepted Lord Chesterfield’s offer of his house and chapel at Bretby Hall. Thither she went with Mr. Jesse, of West Bromwich. Mr. Romaine was prevented from accompanying, but promised to follow her Ladyship, and Mr. Townsend joined her on her arrival, which was towards the close of July in the year above named. These ministers preached alternately in the Hall chapel, which, on Mr. Whitefield’s arrival, was exchanged for the Park, so vast was the concourse, and Mr. Romanie’s auditors were hardly less numerous; but he refused to be a field-preacher, and the crowd heard only what they could gather from the pulpit.[256] Lady Huntingdon left Bretby for Bath, recalled by the indisposition of Mrs. Wordsworth.[257]

Soon after her arrival at Bath, Lady Huntingdon summoned the ministers who laboured for her, Messrs. Whitefield, Shirley, Romaine, Venn, Madan, and Townsend, to the opening of her chapel there.

Mr. Romaine was willing to attend the summons, but having been received in Yorkshire with the greatest attention by the clergy, who, on account of his greater “regularity,” opened to him pulpits which were closed against Mr. Whitefield; and, being then engaged with equal ardour and success at Oathall and Brighton, he preferred remaining there. “The Society (he says) most earnestly intreat you, if Mr. Madan should come down to Bath, that I may be suffered to stay here with them. Why should we both be there at the same time, to stand in one another’s way? Why should Bath have all, poor Brighton none?” This note is dated September 11, 1765. Mr. Madan was prevented from attending, and Lady Huntingdon wrote again to Mr. Romaine, who replied, under the date of October 1st, 1765, again denying her request—“I must openly tell you (he says) that my very heart and soul are now in this work; inasmuch that I have not minded going to Oathall wet to the skin, for the joy that was set before me.” Lady Huntingdon insisted no more, and Mr. Romaine was suffered to remain at Oathall.

On the 6th of October, 1765, the chapel was dedicated to God and the preaching of his everlasting Gospel. An immense crowd attended, and great numbers of the nobility, who had been specially invited by Lady Huntingdon. Mr. Whitefield preached in the morning, and the rector of Pewsey, the son of the celebrated Alderman Townsend, of London, in the evening.

Mr. Whitefield preached but a few times, being obliged to return to London. Mr. Madan, however, arrived soon after he left Bath, and his ministry was attended with very considerable success. Thither, also, Mr. Romaine followed, and spent there many of his vacations, with great utility to the cause of God; for the Lord was pleased to make known, by him, the savour of his grace in every place. There, as at Brighton, he united in labour with that great apostle of the Lord, Mr. Whitefield, and though many are now so shy of mentioning his name, or owning their obligations to his diffusive zeal, Mr. Romaine honoured his character, gloried in his friendship, and cheerfully associated with him in his labours. They were, indeed, par nobile fratrum. In point of popular eloquence and commanding oratory, Mr. Whitefield was certainly his superior, as indeed he was to every other man of his day. He had arrows in his quiver which he alone knew how to sharpen; but in erudition and critical knowledge of the Scriptures Mr. Romaine far excelled him, and, indeed, most of his contemporaries.

Much about the same period Mr. Fletcher repaired to Bath, on a summons from Lady Huntingdon, and entered on the duties of his vocation with an extraordinary degree of earnestness and zeal. Instant in season and out of season, this man of God diligently performed the work of an evangelist, faithfully dispensing the word of life, according as every man had need: instructing the ignorant, reasoning with gainsayers, exhorting the immoral, rebuking the obstinate, and earnestly beseeching all to flee from the wrath to come, and lay hold on the hope set before them in the Gospel of God our Saviour.

No age or country has ever produced a man of more fervent piety or more perfect charity; no Church has ever possessed a more apostolic minister. Being by this time fully acquainted with the English language, he generally trusted to his powers, and preached ex tempore, that mode of address so universal on the Continent, being much more consonant with the lively feelings and ready utterance of Mr. Fletcher than the reading of a pre-composed sermon, however important the subject, or well-arranged its materials. The deep attention he had paid to the recesses of his own heart enabled him to form no inadequate idea of the internal feelings of others. Hence he knew when to probe and when to heal—when to depress and when to encourage: and no person’s case was so perplexed or desperate, but he was in some measure prepared to explain and relieve it. A happy talent which he possessed of selecting, at a moment, the most appropriate passages of Scripture, clothed his words with a divine authority, and enabled him to speak as one who was conscious of his high credentials.

Such was the man whom Lady Huntingdon appointed to hold forth the word of life to the numerous auditories that thronged her chapel at Bath. His words were clothed with power, and entered the heart of many a sinner.

In one of his pastoral letters to his flock at Madely, in reference to his labours at Bath, he says—

Lord and Lady Glenorchy had but lately returned from the Continent, and at this time resided at Great Sugnal, a place at a short distance from Hawkestone, the celebrated seat of Sir Rowland Hill, Bart. At this time several of the younger branches of this family—Mr. Richard Hill, the Rev. Rowland Hill, Miss Hill, their eldest sister, and another sister, Elizabeth, who afterwards married Clement Tudway, Esq., member of Parliament for Wells—were of a decidedly pious character, and bore the reproach ordinarily connected with it, from the thoughtless, the formal, and the profligate. Lady Glenorchy visited this family, became intimate with it, revered and loved its members, and secretly wished that she were like them. Happily the time was at hand in which God fulfilled these desires of her heart.

Lady Glenorchy was not yet twenty-four, and Miss Hill was about her own age, or perhaps somewhat older. They had before been intimate—from this time they became bosom friends. The goodness of God was very evident in providing for Lady Glenorchy an adviser so well informed, so wise and prudent, so faithful and affectionate. In the summer of 1765 her Ladyship was seized with a dangerous putrid fever, and was confined to her bed for a considerable time. On her convalescence, by a singular circumstance in Providence, a train of serious thoughts and reasonings was produced, followed by convictions and purposes which ended in a complete renovation of heart and conduct. From that interesting moment, without hesitation or conferring with flesh and blood, she resolutely turned her back on the dissipated world, and without reserve devoted herself, and all that she could command and influence, to the service of Christ and the glory of God; and in this she invariably persisted to her latest breath.

In order to divert her mind from those serious subjects which occupied it, Lord Glenorchy was advised to leave the country, at an earlier season of the year than usual, for London and Bath, where every means were employed to induce her to return to the gaieties of the world. Her judgment and her conscience, however, were decidedly against it: and neither severity or art (both were put in practice) could divert her from her purpose. Just at this juncture her intimacy with Lady Huntingdon was of the most essential service to her. The excellent advice and heart-searching conversation of the Countess, united with the preaching of Mr. Madan, Mr. Romaine, and other ministers, contributed to establish and confirm her in the faith and hope of the Gospel. Lady Glenorchy’s future path of life lay through evil report and through good report; in the midst of deep adversity and high prosperity; of severe trials and strong temptations, both temporal and spiritual; but none of these things moved her from the steadfastness of her Christian profession. Although her road was often rough in the extreme, and her enemies cruel, strong, and numerous, yet on she went in her Christian course, never deviating to the right hand nor to the left, but ever pressing towards the mark for the prize of her high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

Lady Glenorchy was destined to be the Selina of Scotland. Lady Huntingdon was her model, although her biographer seems to have forgotten the fact. She derived great spiritual benefit, and caught her inspiration in the cause of God, from the example and the chaplains of the Countess. Dr. Thomas Snell Jones, who had received his education at Trevecca, was supplying the Tabernacle at Plymouth, having been sent thither by Lady Huntingdon, when first introduced to the notice of Lady Glenorchy, whose chaplain and biographer he eventually became. It is somewhat extraordinary that Dr. Jones should have made so little mention of his former noble patroness, to whom he was so deeply indebted, or of the long and very intimate connexion and correspondence that existed between these excellent women. Her Ladyship left Bath in the spring; and soon after her arrival in Edinburgh thus expressed her gratitude and thanks to Lady Huntingdon for the inestimable benefits she had reaped from her conversation and society:—

Suffering under a depression of spirits by the untimely death of their eldest daughter, Lord and Lady Sutherland sought relief by change in the society and amusements of Bath, where they arrived shortly after Lady Glenorchy had departed for Scotland. Lady Sutherland was the only sister of Lady Glenorchy, who introduced her by letter to the notice and attention of Lady Huntingdon.

At this critical moment Mr. Whitefield returned to Bath, and the youthful Earl and Countess of Sutherland were induced to attend his preaching.

But one affliction rapidly succeeded another. Soon after their arrival, the Earl was attacked with a putrid fever, with which he struggled fifty-four days, and then expired. The attentions of the Countess, who was devoted to her Lord, were so unremitting—having watched him in his chamber for twenty-one nights and days without intermission or retiring to rest—that at last, overcome with fatigue, anxiety, and grief, she sunk, an unavailing victim to an amiable but excessive attachment, seventeen days before the death of her Lord. In this season of sorest anguish, Lady Huntingdon had several interviews with Lady Sutherland, and endeavoured to pour into her bleeding heart all the consolation and comfort which the religion of Jesus can impart. Prayer, both public and private, was incessantly offered up on their behalf. The best medical advice was of no avail.

Lady Sutherland was in her twenty-fifth year, and Lord Sutherland in his thirty-first. They left an infant daughter, Lady Elizabeth, who succeeded her father in the honours of Sutherland, and who, having married the late Marquis of Stafford, survived him and the Duchess-Countess Dowager of Sutherland, and died only a few months since.[258] Thus the venerable Countess of Huntingdon, and her celebrated chaplain, the apostolic Whitefield, ministered to her Grace’s suffering parents when she was an unconscious infant!

This melancholy event spread a general gloom over the gay inhabitants of Bath. Two sermons were preached on the occasion in Lady Huntingdon’s chapel, attended by almost all the nobility then in Bath, many of whom seemed to feel the awful Providence. A remarkable circumstance aggravated this bereavement to the family. Strange and unaccountable as the circumstance may appear, yet it is a fact of which there can be no doubt, that Lady Sutherland’s mother, Lady Alava, knew nothing of the death of her daughter for nearly three weeks after the event had taken place. The death of her daughter had been concealed from her, and only that of Lord Sutherland communicated. The way in which she at last became acquainted with it was in itself particularly singular and affecting. Whilst Lady Alava was hastening from Scotland to the assistance of her daughter, she happened to alight from her carriage at the door of an inn on the road to Bath, where she saw two hearses standing. Upon enquiring whose remains they contained, she was told they were those of Lord and Lady Sutherland, on their way to Scotland for interment!

Soon after the death of the Earl and Countess of Sutherland, Lady Huntingdon left Bath and proceeded to Brighton, where she remained the principal part of the summer. About the same time Mr. Whitefield appears to have gone to Bath, where his health became so much impaired by his exertions, that he was obliged to retire to Cottam, near Bristol, for a few weeks. But his active spirit was not idle there.

Towards the end of August, Mr. Wesley, being in Bath, was invited, as usual, to preach in her Ladyship’s chapel. “Many (says he) were not a little surprised at seeing me in the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel. The congregation was not only large, but serious, and I fully delivered my own soul.”

Hitherto, Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitefield had interchanged letters not very frequently, and they preached occasionally in each other’s pulpit: but there was no cordial intercourse—no hearty co-operation. Such a wound as had been made in their friendships always leaves a scar, however well, to outward appearance, it may have healed. Nevertheless, they did justice to each other’s intentions and virtues; and old feelings rose again, as from the dead, like the blossoming of spring flowers in autumn, which reminds us that the season of hope and of joy is gone. It is pleasant to observe that this tenderness increased as they advanced towards the decline of life. When Mr. Whitefield returned from America to England, for the last time, Mr. Wesley was struck with the change in his appearance. “He seemed (says he, in his Journal) to be an old man, being fairly worn out in his Master’s service, though he has hardly seen fifty years.” Mr. Whitefield, at this time, to use Mr. Wesley’s language, breathed nothing but peace and love. “Bigotry (says he) cannot stand before him, but hides its head wherever he comes.” On a summons from Lady Huntingdon, Mr. Wesley hastened from Yorkshire to meet Mr. Whitefield in London.

Mr. Wesley’s plan of union amongst the Evangelical clergymen in different parts of England, at that period not more than forty in number, not having met with any cordial support, it was agreed, about this time, that Lady Huntingdon, Mr. Whitefield, Mr. John and Mr. Charles Wesley, should meet as frequently as convenient, and co-operate with each other in the general diffusion of divine truth. That this alliance had been entered into is certain; but we cannot concur with Southey in his “Life of Mr. Wesley,” imputing the non-fulfilment of it to what he is pleased to call the “bigotry and intolerance of Lady Huntingdon and a clique of Calvinistic clergy,” whom she had collected around her. Mr. Charles Wesley was of a different opinion. In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, written after the publication of the Minutes of Conference of 1770, and after Mr. John Wesley had preached Mr. Whitefield’s funeral sermon at the Tabernacle, he remarks:—

That Mr. Wesley had entered into this alliance is further evident from the offer which he made to Lady Huntingdon, of supplying her chapel at Bath during his stay at Bristol. Her Ladyship’s reply to Mr. Wesley, expressing her gratitude for his kind offer, and his universal devotedness to the glory of their Divine Master and the souls redeemed by his blood, will be read with deep interest. Southey might have had access to this document, as it appeared in the twentieth volume of the Methodist Magazine, and it would have corrected one of the numerous blunders, false statements, and wilful misrepresentations with which his work everywhere abounds.

Lady Huntingdon’s chapel was at this time principally supplied by Mr. Madan and Mr. Townsend, and two Welsh clergymen of great notoriety, Mr. Howel Davies and Mr. Daniel Rowlands, with the occasional assistance of Mr. Whitefield, who generally preached once, and sometimes twice, a week, besides his stated labours at Clifton and Bristol. On Mr. Madan leaving Bath for Aldwincle, in Northamptonshire, whither he went to preach for Dr. Haweis, Mr. Romaine supplied his place during the months of October and November. Early in the month of October, Mr. Wesley arrived in Bath, and during his stay preached frequently in her Ladyship’s chapel. Being very popular at this time he was remarkably well attended, and his labours were not altogether in vain in the Lord. On Sunday, the 5th of October, at eight o’clock in the morning, he administered the sacrament, and at eleven preached on these words in the Gospel of the day—“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” “The word (says Mr. Wesley) was quick and powerful, and I trust many, even of the rich and great, felt themselves sinners before God.”

At this period Horace Walpole visited Bath. There was a sort of family connexion between the Walpoles and Lady Huntingdon;[259] and therefore, perhaps, Horace Walpole accompanied his friends, Lord and Lady Powys, to the chapel. Mr. Wesley was the preacher, but the chapel itself was attractive.

There were several persons of distinction at this time in Bath, almost all of whom, according to Walpole, were constantly in the habit of attending divine service at Lady Huntingdon’s chapel. Indeed, he says, it was quite the rage amongst persons in high life to form parties to hear the different preachers who supplied the chapel. Amongst these he enumerates Lord Camden (then Lord High Chancellor of England), Lord Northington (Lord President of the Council), Earl Chatham and family, Lord Rockingham, Lady Malpas, Lord and Lady Powys, Lord and Lady Buchan and family, Miss Rich (sister to Lord Lyttleton), the Duke of Bedford and family, Mr. and Lady Lucy Trevor, &c.[261]

Early in the month of November we find Mr. Whitefield again at Bath. He and Mr. Romaine preached alternately at Lady Huntingdon’s chapel to very numerous and attentive auditories. “Bath air (says Mr. Whitefield) will never agree with me long. However, if good is done, all will be well. Sunday and last night were seasons of power. Some, we trust, were made willing.” During his stay at Bath his health was indifferent, but he went occasionally to Bristol, where he preached to very crowded congregations. On one occasion he administered the sacrament there, and used eight bottles of wine. His popularity continued to increase at Bath, and many of the nobility who had not before heard him were now eager to attend his ministry.

Receiving an invitation from Mr. Stillingfleet to visit Oxford, on his return to London, Mr. Whitefield resolved to go thither immediately—

Mr. Whitefield was followed by Mr. Venn, one of the most powerful and successfully pious preachers of the time; but he was not only distinguished as a minister—as a companion he was the most agreeable man imaginable; he had a flow of conversation which never ceased to delight and edify; and, out of a store of anecdotes treasured up in his memory, produced a fund of entertainment as well as usefulness, which those who were his favoured companions seldom forgot.[262]

In his journey from Brighton to Bath, Mr. Venn paid a visit to his valued friend, Mr. Townsend, at Pewsey.

In his letter to Miss Wheeler, niece to Lady Huntingdon, and one of the daughters of Lady Catherine Wheeler, Mr. Venn says—

Mr. Andrews[263] occasionally visited Bath, and united with those men of renown who in that day dared to be singular in the cause of Christ. He was very zealous in the discharge of his ministerial duties, but was incapacitated by ill-health from doing as much as many of his brethren. He frequently preached in other places, and was always delighted with the visits of Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Wesley, and any other minister who proclaimed the name of that Saviour whom he loved.

When Lady Huntingdon was at Bath, Mr. Andrews preached very frequently at her Ladyship’s, and united with those cross-bearing labourers who aided her in the great work of spreading the everlasting Gospel. He went boldly to Christ without the camp, bearing his reproach. He was a faithful minister of the Church of England, but never ashamed of the brand of Methodism, or of those most liberally abused by a wicked world, and often most obnoxious to their own brethren. His work was his wages, and the souls of men redeemed his object.

Such conduct provoked the implacable enmity of the intolerant Warburton, then Bishop of Gloucester, who, like his neighbour, Lavington, Bishop of Exeter, was the inveterate enemy of all Methodists and Moravians. His Lordship informed Mr. Andrews that he had received several complaints of him, and, unless he had ample satisfaction, threatened to revoke his license by process in the spiritual court.

Mr. Andrews acquainted the Bishop, by letter, in answer to the first charge, “that he had resided at least two years and nine months out of the three years that he had been in possession of the living;” and, in reply to the second, “that the Bishop had at Bath, in consideration of the smallness of the income and Mr. Andrews’s want of health, recommended it to him to officiate at Stinchcombe only once on a Sunday, and that, notwithstanding he had several times done double duty; that many other clergymen in the Bishop’s diocese, on much better livings, did not reside at all; and that he had refused a living of eighty pounds a year, and taken one of thirty-six pounds, merely on account of its requiring less duty.” But, as might have been anticipated, remonstrance with such a man as Warburton was in vain. Mr. Andrews was a Methodist; he had committed the unpardonable crime of preaching for Lady Huntingdon, and, without a divine legation, the Bishop was resolved to interdict his itinerancy.

The Bishop appears somewhat amiable in his correspondence with Doddridge, and not a little faithful in exposing “the unclean beasts” in his own ark; but he could persecute, as well as rail. At length Lady Huntingdon interfered.

The reply of Warburton was laconic, and quite in character. It ran thus:—

The preceding year the Bishop of Gloucester had published “The Doctrine of Grace; or, the Office and Operation of the Holy Spirit vindicated from the Insults of Infidelity and the Abuses of Fanaticism”—a work containing many shrewd and pertinent observations, and original lucky turns of thought, with a considerable portion of critical sagacity. This most “impudent man of the age,” through almost every part of his book, not only wantonly throws about the arrows and firebrands of scurrility, buffoonery, and personal abuse, but at the same time, on account of some unguarded expressions and indiscretions of a particular set of honest, though fallible men, takes occasion to wound, vilify, and totally deny the all-powerful operations of the Spirit of God, by which alone his Lordship, or any other man, can be sanctified and sealed to the day of eternal redemption. The work soon produced answers from Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Wesley, one from Mr. Payne, Accountant-General to the Bank, and one from Mr. Andrews, entitled “The Scripture Doctrine of Grace, in an answer to a Treatise on the Doctrine of Grace, by William, Lord Bishop of Gloucester, so far as that important doctrine is considered.”

On leaving Bath, Mr. Venn preached at Bristol and Gloucester, and in the pulpit of Mr. Andrews; thence he passed on to Trevecca, “Happy Trevecca!” as he styles it, of which, and of Mr. Howel Harris, he gives the following account, in a letter to Miss Wheeler:—

Mr. Venn, being obliged to return to Huddersfield before the end of the month, could make but a short stay at Trevecca; but there, as in other places where the churches were not open to him, he hesitated not to proclaim the riches, the glory, and the grace of his Lord and Master.

To Miss Wheeler, Mr. Venn says, “Mr. Lee is a gentleman of fortune, about forty years of age, and a man of uncommon parts, with whom I was much delighted. Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Wesley visited him whenever they were in Shropshire, and his house was usually open for the preaching of the Gospel. Mr. Wesley being in that part of the country in March, 1769, was invited by Mr. Lee to his house. “My horse being lame (says he), and part of the road very bad, I did not reach Mr. Lee’s, of Cotery, till noon. The house is delightfully situated in his park, at the top of a fruitful hill. His chaplain had just begun reading prayers; afterwards he desired me to give an exhortation.” In the month of August, the same year, Mr. Wesley was again in Shrewsbury, on his way to attend the anniversary of Lady Huntingdon’s College at Trevecca, and receiving invitations from Messrs. Powys and Lee, preached at Berwick and Cotery.

While Mr. Venn was at Berwick, Captain Scott, of whose conversion by Mr. Romaine we have spoken, had succeeded in obtaining an introduction to that honoured instrument of his conversion, who would not see him at Brighton, but at London kindly received and prayed with and for him. On Captain Scott taking leave, Mr. Romaine gave him a letter for Mr. Powys, of Berwick, in Shropshire, whither the Captain was proceeding. Leaving London in the Shrewsbury mail-coach, as soon as he had well adjusted himself, Captain Scott found, by the common observations which curiosity ever makes on the associates with whom we travel, that one of his companions was a Major, destined to Shrewsbury. Among other conversations which took place in the interval before they fell asleep, the Captain asked whether he knew any families there. He answered in the affirmative, and enumerated, among other families of his particular acquaintance, the Scotts. Captain Scott professed himself to have had formerly some acquaintance with this family, and begged to know such particulars as occurred respecting those members of it he had lately seen or heard of. After the mention of a variety of particulars, in which the Captain expected his own name to have occurred, but without being gratified, he asked if the Major had heard nothing of any other branches of the family. He replied, “Yes—there was one mad fellow, who many years ago went into the army; and, when he was there, turned Methodist, and went about preaching with the regiment.”

Captain Scott asked if he had shown any other mark of derangement besides those he had mentioned, which appeared to be of a religious kind. The Major replied, “he could not say, as he really knew very little about him.” The night drew on, and the parties slept and conversed at intervals till they arrived at Oxford, when they got out of the coach, and were ushered into a room, lighted by two large candles. The Captain immediately, taking one of the candles in each hand, walked, with a firm step, up to the Major, and bowing, said, “Give me leave, Sir, to introduce to you the mad Captain Scott.” The Major appeared overwhelmed with surprise and confusion. He seemed much hurt at what had passed, but Captain Scott, seeing his embarrassment, soon relieved him—assured him that he had not felt hurt at anything he had said; and, indeed, under the circumstances, could not be so; and only begged of him the favour, as he was then going to Shropshire, and would probably see many of his friends, to correct their mistaken apprehensions of his being deranged; for that he had travelled with him from London, and discovered (as Captain Scott hoped) no mark of a disordered mind.

Captain Scott observed to him that it was no uncommon thing for a man to be charged, by the unthinking part of mankind, with derangement, at the very time when he was beginning to be truly wise, and to live to better purpose than any part of his preceding life, particularly when he begins to reflect that he has an immortal and invaluable soul, and makes it his great concern to secure its eternal happiness. Captain Scott admitted that, when he went into the army, he had been a dissipated character, but that a great revolution in his sentiments and conduct had afterwards taken place; and he begged the indulgence of the Major briefly to state to him the nature of those views of religion which he had imbibed, that he might be enabled to judge whether they merited the severe reflections with which they had been charged. This gave him an opportunity of opening to him the plan of divine truth, as revealed in the Gospel; which was, no doubt, accompanied with Captain Scott’s earnest prayer for his conversion. The Major bowed assent to every thing advanced, and declared it very sober, very rational, very proper, &c., but whether any salutary effects were produced the Captain did not learn, never afterwards having the opportunity of another interview with his polite and candid friend.

After a few days spent amongst his family and friends, Captain Scott rode to Berwick, to deliver the letter which Mr. Romaine had entrusted to him. We have said that at that time Mr. Powys entertained Mr. Venn as a visitor in his house. One morning, soon after breakfast and family prayer, Mr. and Mrs. Powys and Mr. Venn were looking from the parlour window in front of the hall, and who should they see but Captain Scott, who was now bringing Mr. Romaine’s letter, enter upon the lawn, dressed in his uniform and riding his military horse. Mr. Powys recognized him at a distance, and said, “There is Captain Scott; what can he want here? I am determined not to see him if I can avoid it.” Upon this they all withdrew.

Captain Scott rode up and asked, “Is Mr. Powys at home?” The servant, uninstructed by his master to adopt the fashionable expedient of stating an untruth to avoid an inconvenience, informed him that he was. Mr. Powys was called, and received his visitor with an air of distant civility, thinking that his presence would be an interruption to the spiritual enjoyments of himself and friends; but after he had read Mr. Romaine’s letter, which he received with considerable agitation, giving an account of Captain Scott’s conversion, he caught him in his arms, embraced and rejoiced over him as over one raised from the dead. In this position, with an elevated voice, he cried out, “Mr. Venn! Mr. Venn! Mrs. Powys! Mrs. Powys! come, come here quickly! Here is Captain Scott, a convert to Christ! a new creature in Christ Jesus!” They both came, and being informed of the contents of Mr. Romaine’s letter, all three, in the joy of their hearts, embraced the penitent, and, in imitation of the angels in heaven, rejoiced over him who had been dead, but was alive again; who had been lost, but was found.

Of Manchester, where Mr. Venn next proceeded, he says—