1768. Saturday, January 2.--I called on a poor man in the Marshalsea, whose case appeared to be uncommon. He is by birth a Dutchman, a chemist by profession. Being but half-employed at home, he was advised to come to London, where he doubted not of having full employment. He was recommended to a countryman of his to lodge, who after six weeks arrested him for much more than he owed, and hurried him away to prison, having a wife near her time, without money, friend, or a word of English to speak. I wrote the case to Mr. T--, who immediately gave fifteen pounds; by means of which, with a little addition, he was set at liberty and put in a way of living. But I never saw him since, and for good reason: for he could now live without me.
Monday, 4.--At my leisure hours this week, I read Dr. Priestley's ingenious book on electricity. He seems to have accurately collected and well digested all that is known on that curious subject. But how little is that all! Indeed the use of it we know; at least, in some good degree. We know it is a thousand medicines in one: in particular, that it is the most efficacious medicine in nervous disorders of every kind which has ever yet been discovered. But if we aim at theory, we know nothing. We are soon
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Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search. |
Monday, 11.--This week I spent my scraps of time in reading Mr. Wodrow's History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland. It would transcend belief but that the vouchers are too authentic to admit of any exception. Oh, what a blessed Governor was that good-natured man, so called, King Charles the Second! Bloody Queen Mary was a lamb, a mere dove, in comparison to him!
Monday, February 8.--I met with a surprising poem, entitled, Choheleth; or, the Preacher. It is a paraphrase, in tolerable verse, on the Book of Ecclesiastes. I really think the author of it (a Turkey Merchant) understands both the difficult expressions and the connection of the whole better than any other either ancient or modern writer whom I have seen. He was at Lisbon during the great earthquake, just then sitting in his nightgown and slippers. Before he could dress himself, part of the house he was in fell and blocked him up. By this means his life was saved, for all who had run out were dashed in pieces by the falling houses.
Monday, March 14.--l set out on my northern journey, and preached at Stroud in the evening. Tuesday, 15. About noon I preached at Painswick and in the evening at Gloucester. The mob here was for a considerable time both noisy and mischievous. But an honest magistrate, taking the matter in hand, quickly tamed the beasts of the people. So may any magistrate, if he will; so that wherever a mob continues any time, all they do is to be imputed not so much to the rabble as to the justices.
Wednesday, 16.--About nine I preached at Cheltenham--a quiet, comfortable place; though it would not have been so, if either the rector or the Anabaptist minister could have prevented it. Both these have blown the trumpet with their might; but the people had no ears to hear. In the afternoon I preached at Upton and then rode on to Worcester. But the difficulty was where to preach. No room was large enough to contain the people, and it was too cold for them to stand abroad. At length we went to a friend's, near the town whose barn was larger than many churches. Here a numerous congregation soon assembled, and again at five and at ten in the morning. Nothing is wanting here but a commodious house; and will not God provide this also?
Friday, 18.--The vicar of Pebworth had given notice in the church on Sunday that I was to preach there on Friday. But the squire of the parish said, "It is contrary to the canons (wise squire!) and it shall not be." So I preached about a mile from it, at Broadmarston, by the side of Mr. Eden's house. The congregation was exceedingly large and remarkably attentive. In the morning, the chapel (so it anciently was) was well filled at five. The simplicity and earnestness of the people promise a glorious harvest.
Saturday, 19.--We rode to Birmingham. The tumults which subsisted here so many years are now wholly suppressed by a resolute magistrate. After preaching, I was pleased to see a venerable monument of antiquity, George Bridgins, in the one hundred and seventh year of his age. He can still walk to the preaching and retains his senses and understanding tolerably well. But what a dream will even a life of a hundred years appear to him the moment he awakes in eternity!