A Dreadful Phenomenon,
A DREADFUL PHENOMENON,
Described And Improved, Being A Particular Account Of The Sudden Stoppage Of The River Severn, And Of The Terrible Desolation That Happened At The Birches, Between Colebrook Dale And Buildwas Bridge, In Shropshire, On Thursday Morning, May 27, 1773;
And The Substance Of A Sermon Preached The Next Days On The Ruins, To A Vast Concourse Of Spectators. By The Rev. John Fletcher.
O come, and behold the works of the Lord:
what desolations he hath made up the earth. Psalm 46:8 HEARING, on Thursday, May 27, 1773, that a place called the Birches, (probably from some remarkable birch trees, which formerly grew there,) many acres of land, which a gentleman of my parish holds on the borders of Buildwas parish, had that morning, about four o’clock, suffered strange revolutions, as well as the river Severn; I went to see if there was any foundation for so extraordinary a report.
When I came to the spot, the first thing that struck me was the destruction of the little bridge that separated the parish of Madeley from that of Buildwas, and the total disappearing of the turnpike road to Buildwas bridge; instead of which nothing presented itself to my view but a confused heap of bushes, and huge clods of earth, tumbled one over another. The river also wore a different aspect: it was shallow, turbid, noisy, boisterous, and came down from a different point. Whether I considered the water or the land, the scene appeared to me entirely new, and as I could not fancy myself in another part of the country, I concluded that the God of nature had shaken his providential iron rod over the subverted spot before me. Following a tract made by a great number of spectators, who came already from the neighbouring parishes, I climbed over the ruins, and came to a field well grown with rye grass, where the ground was deeply cracked in several places; and where large turfs, some entirely, others half turned up, exhibited the appearance of straight or crooked furrows imperfectly formed by a plough drawn at a venture.
Getting from that field over the hedge, into a part of the road which was yet visible, I found it raised in one place, sunk in another, concave in a third, hanging on one side in a fourth, and contracted, as if some uncommon force had pressed the two hedges together. But the higher part of it surprised me most, and brought directly to my remembrance those places of Mount Vesuvius, where the solid, stony lava has been strongly worked by repeated earthquakes; for the hard beaten gravel, that formed the surface of the road, was broken every way into huge masses, partly detached from each other, with deep apertures between them, exactly like the shattered lava. This striking likeness of circumstances made me conclude, that the similar effect might proceed from the same cause, namely, a strong convulsion in the surface, if not in the bowels of the earth. Going a little farther toward Buildwas, I found that the road was again totally lost for a considerable space; having been overturned, absorbed, or tumbled, with the hedges that bounded it, to a considerable distance toward the river. This part of the desolation appeared then to me inexpressibly dreadful.
Between the road and the river there was a large field of promising oats, running in length parallel to both. I got into it over a stile that had been shocked out of its proper position. Wonderful and unaccountable are the revolutions which that piece of ground had suffered. It was not flat, but diversified in its surface by some gradual falls and eminences; and now I found it had been tossed in so strange a manner, that the old mounts had sunk into hollows, and the hollows were raised into mounts, one of which is eight or nine yards higher than the road.
This is not all; this field is rent throughout, like the shattered part of the road; with this difference, that the misshapen masses into which it is torn, are in general larger, and the apertures between them deeper than those of the road. Some of these enormous lumps were so detached from the rest, as to totter under the weight of the spectators, when they jumped from one to the other, which made several persons afraid to venture upon the desultory walk; nor indeed without reason, for had they slided into some of the apertures, they might have gone in many feet, and remained wedged in between two ruinous lumps of earth.
Between that shattered field and the river there was that morning a bank, on which, beside a great deal of underwood, grew twenty fine large oaks. This wood shot with such violence into the Severn before it, that it forced the water in great columns a considerable height, like mighty fountains, and gave the overflowing river a retrograde motion.
This is not the only accident that happened to the Severn; for near the groves the channel, which was chiefly of a soft blue rock, burst in ten thousand pieces, and rose perpendicularly about ten yards, heaving up an immense quantity of water, and the shoals of fishes that were therein. Among the rubbish at the bottom of the river, which was very deep in that place, there were one or two huge stones, and a large piece of timber, or an oak tree, which from time immemorial had lain partly in the mud, I suppose in consequence of some flood. The stones and the tree were thrown up, as if they had only been a pebble and a stick, and are now at some distance from the river, many feet higher than the surface of it. Ascending from the ruins of the road, I came to those of a barn, which, after travelling many yards toward the river, had been absorbed in a chasm, where the shattered roof was yet visible. Next to these remains of the barn, and partly parallel to the river was a long hedge, which had been torn from a part of it yet adjoining to the garden hedge, and had been removed above forty yards downward, together with some large trees that were in it and the land that it enclosed.
The tossing, tearing, and shifting of so many acres of land below, was attended with the formation of stupendous chasms above. One that struck me much, ran perpendicular to the river. Around it, as around a grave at a burial, stood, the day after, the numerous congregation to which the substance of the following sermon was preached; except about two hundred hearers, who descended into it to be out of the crowd, and made me fear, lest the abrupt sides, pressed by the surrounding multitude, should give way and bury some of them alive; but the ground happily stood firm as a rock.
At some distance above, near the wood which crowns the desolated spot, another chasm, or rather a complication of chasms, excited my admiration. It is an assemblage of chasms, one of which, that seems to terminate the desolation on the north - east, runs some hundred yards toward the river and Madeley Wood; it looked like the deep channel of some great serpentine river dried up, whose little islands, fords, and hollows, appear without a watery veil.
This long chasm at the top seems to be made up of two or three that run into each other. And their conjunction, when it is viewed from a particular point, exhibits the appearance of a ruined fortress, whose ramparts have been blown up by mines that have done dreadful execution, and yet have spared here and there a pyramid of earth, or a shattered tower, by which the spectators can judge of the nature and solidity of the demolished bulwark.
The strangeness of this, and some other parts of the prospect, vanishes daily; for many thousands of people, by walking again and again over the ruins, have trampled in and partly closed numbers of the small apertures that at first were several feet deep; and by climbing up the accessible places of the larger chasms, and ransacking them in search of fossils, they have caused the loosed earth and stones to come down. Add to this that the brittle stone, which in a great measure forms that stratum of earth, is of such a nature as to dissolve into a kind of infertile marl, when it is exposed to the open air. This, together with the natural crumbling of the pyramids, has already rendered the chasms in some places considerably less deep than they were at first.
Fortunately there was on that spot but one house, inhabited by two poor countrymen and their families. It stands yet, though it has removed about a yard from its former situation. The morning in which the desolation happened, Samuel Wilcocks, one of the countrymen, got up about four o’clock, and opening the window to see if the weather was fair, he took notice of a small crack in the earth, about four or five inches wide; and observed the above - mentioned field of oats, heaving up and rolling about like the waves of the sea. The trees, by the motion of the ground, waved all as if they had been blown with the wind, though the air was calm and serene. And the river Severn, which for some days had over flowed its banks, was very much agitated, and seemed to run back to its source. The man being astonished at such a sight, rubbed his eyes, supposing himself not quite awake; but being soon convinced that destruction stalked about, he alarmed his wife, and taking their children in their arms, they went out of the house as fast as they could, accompanied by the other man and his wife. A kind Providence directed their flight; for instead of running eastward across the fields that were just going to be overthrown, they fled westward, into a wood that had little share in the desolation. When they were about twenty yards from the house, they perceived a great crack run very quick up the ground from the river. Immediately the land behind them, with the trees and hedges, moved toward the Severn, with great swiftness and uncommon noise, which Samuel Wilcocks compared to a large flock of sheep running swiftly by him.
It was then chiefly that desolation expanded her wings over the devoted spot, and the Birches saw a momentary representation of a partial chaos; - then nature seemed to have forgotten her laws; - the opening earth swallowed a gliding barn; - trees commenced itinerant; those that were at a distance from the river, advanced toward it, while the submerged oak broke out of its watery confinement, and by rising many feet recovered a place on dry land; - the solid road was swept away, as its dust had been in a stormy day; - then probably the rocky bottom of the Severn emerged, pushing toward heaven astonishing shoals of fishes, and hogsheads of water innumerable; - the wood, like an embattled body of vegetable combatants, stormed the bed of the overflowing river; and triumphantly waved its green colours over the recoiling flood; - fields became movables; nay, they fled when none pursued: and as they fled, they rent the green carpets that covered them in a thousand pieces. In a word, dry land exhibited the dreadful appearance of a sea storm! Solid earth, as if it had acquired the fluidity of water, tossed itself into massy waves, which rose or sunk at the beck of Him who raised the tempest. And, what is most astonishing, the stupendous hollow of one of those waves, ran for near a quarter of a mile through rocks and a stony soil, with as much ease as if dry earth, stones, and rocks, had been a part of the liquid element. Some hours after the desolation had happened, I met S. Wilcocks on the ruins, and asked him many questions, to which he returned very few satisfactory answers, ingenuously acknowledging he was so terrified, and so intent upon securing himself and his family, that he could not make any observations. He seemed then persuaded that the overthrow was caused by an earthquake, protesting before several witnesses, that a shock of one had been felt in the house two nights before: and if he denies it now, his testimony is inconsistent, and consequently not worthy to be depended upon.
Soon after the river was stopped, Samuel Cookson, a farmer, who lives about a quarter of a mile below the Birches, on the same side of the river, was much terrified by a gust of wind that beat against his window, as if shot had been thrown against it: but his fright greatly increased when, getting up to see if the flood, that was over his ground, had abated, he perceived that all the water was gone from his fields, and that scarce any remained in the Severn. He called up his family; ran to the river; and finding that it was dammed up, he made the best of his way to alarm the inhabitants of Buildwas, the next village above, which he supposed would soon be under water.
He was happily mistaken. Providence just prepared a way for their escape. The Severn, notwithstanding a considerable flood, which at that time rendered it doubly rapid and powerful, having met with two dreadful shocks, the one from her rising bed, and the other from the intruding wood, could do nothing but foam and turn back with impetuosity. The ascending and descending streams conflicted some time about Buildwas bridge. The river sensibly rose for some miles back, and continued rising till, just as it was near entering into the houses at Buildwas, it got vent through the fields on the right; and after spreading far and near over them, collected all its might to assault its powerful aggressor, I mean the grove, that had so unexpectedly turned it out of the bed which it had enjoyed for countless ages. Sharp was the attack, but the resistance was yet more vigorous; and the Severn, repelled again and again, was obliged to seek its old empty bed, by going the shortest way to the right; and the moment it found it again, it precipitated therein with a dreadful roar, and for a time formed a considerable cataract: then with inconceivable fury (as if it wanted to be revenged on the first thing that came in its way) it began to tear and wash away a fine rich meadow opposite to the grove; and there, in a few hours, worked itself a new channel about three hundred yards long, through which a barge from Shrewsbury ventured three or four days after. Although the old English oaks and the travelling wood got the day, it was not without considerable loss; for some of the trees, which stood in the first rank, were so undermined by the impetuous onsets of the Severn, that they fell across the stream. But the others stood their ground in the very middle of the old channel, and flourished as if they had been in their native place, till the proprietor ordered them to be cut down and barked. While the underwood still grows there in peace, (such is the vicissitude of sublunary things!) an unfortunate tree, that grew secure at a considerable distance from the shore in the opposite meadow, is now exactly In the middle of the river, where it leans downward, with the earth washed from its roots, ready to be carried away by the first flood.
But let us see what passed down the river. When its course was obstructed, the fall below was as quick as the flood above. Although the flooded fields refunded their waters into the Severn, it fell near two yards. This draining of the overflowed meadows was so sudden, that many fishes which sported over them had not time to retire into the bed of the river, and were caught on dry land; as were also several eels, that worked themselves from the obstructed channel, through the cracks in the new planted grove; or more probably crept out of the roots and rubbish that were at the bottom of the river when it was forced up.
How fatal was that day to the finny tribes, that securely wantoned in their enlarged province! What a striking emblem did they afford us of the sudden destruction which will one day overtake the shoals of impenitent sinners, who swim with the tide of sinful customs, frisk about in the stream of worldly vanity, or are immersed in the dregs of sensual pleasure! Those fishes that had got out of the river were left panting on the grass: while those that remained in the rocky bed of the river were buried in its ruins; and if any escaped that danger it was only to meet a greater - to be caught in such a net as had never been drawn over them before, an earthen and wooden texture, made with the spreading roots of twenty large oaks. While some of the spectators picked up eels and fishes on dry ground, others of a different taste looked for curious fossils among the ruins of the rock, which in the morning formed the channel of the Severn; and a great many were found bearing the impression of a flying insect, not unlike the butterfly into which silk worms are changed. Some of the most perfect might be worthy of a place in the British museum, where they would be a curious monument of the phenomenon that brought them to light: Although the astonished watermen were as busy in securing their vessels as the frightful fishes in securing themselves, the endeavours of some were as ineffectual; a few of their barges having overset below: for when the river, which they had so often cursed, was dammed up, some of their loaded vessels, being suddenly deserted by the water, were left leaning upon one side of the muddy slope of the shore; and the stream, at its quick return, finding them in that unfavorable position, entered into and sunk them. In less than a quarter of an hour the desolation was begun and completed. The quantity of ground that is damaged, cracked, removed, or turned into chasms and heaps of ruins, is eight fields, which were at first supposed to contain about thirty acres, but measure only eighteen and a quarter, the property of the same gentleman; who has also sustained a considerable loss on the other side of the river, by the ground that has been washed away, which being taken into the account, together with the river, makes in all twenty - two acres and a quarter.
But much more land has probably been stirred: for some of the spectators, seeking a shorter way home through a wood in Madeley parish, which bounds the desolated spot north east, found, four or five hundred yards above the highest chasm, a long abrupt cut, which runs partly parallel to the river, by which it is evident that the wood has sunk downward near a yard; and that a quantity of ground, double of what was at first apprehended, has been affected by the general convulsion. As I suppose the curious reader will be glad to have a more particular account of the chasms, &c, than I can give him upon a bare inspection, I have prevailed upon a friend to take the following measures: - “The great chasm next to Madeley parish begins just under a wood, at the top of the overthrow; and runs toward the river from north to south east. The length of it is three hundred and ninety - six yards. Its breadth and depth are unequal. The greatest breadth is forty - two yards, and the greatest depth ten. It contains several pyramids or towers. The only complete one is about five feet diameter at the top, where the grass continues fresh.
“From that long chasm another, which may be called a cross chasm, runs out at the top westward. In one part, it is fifty - four yards long, and fourteen wide. Near seventeen yards of the length are about thirteen yards deep.
“A second cross chasm connected with the preceding, and running also from east to west, is ninety four yards long, and in one place thirty eight broad and eight deep. Four remarkable pyramids, eminences, or towers, remain in this chasm; one, covered with grass, is about four feet diameter on the top; another is only one ploughed furrow, wide at the top, about four feet long: the others are not complete.
“A third cross chasm, next to the dwelling house, runs likewise from east to west. It is one hundred and twenty five yards long. The widest part, opposite to the place where the barn stood, is twenty - eight yards. That building advanced thirty - five yards in this chasm toward the river, before it was swallowed up.
“From the middle of this chasm, another runs out toward the river, from north to south, and forms the gigantic grave, around which the sermon was preached. It is forty yards long, twenty - two wide, and nine deep, taking the greatest depth, which gradually decreases southward, where the whole terminates in a point.
“All these cross chasms would make one uninterrupted vacancy, like that of a large quarry or marl pit, were it not for the above - mentioned pyramids and towers, and for two smaller and two larger spots of land, which not only stood their ground when all around them gave way, but are supposed to have risen perpendicularly some feet. If the vacuum were filled with water, they would exhibit the appearance of four islands rising out of a little lake. “The bed of the river has been filled up two hundred and ninety yards in length. At the upper part of the new channel there is on the right shore a quantity of earth removed from the left, with some wood growing upon it. And about the midway on the left shore, there is a part of the meadow that was before on the right; and, what is more surprising, that part is now raised near two feet above the rest of the meadow.
“The turnpike road, which ran partly parallel to the river, is damaged three hundred and twenty - one yards in length. The part of it which is next to Buildwas, has been removed forty yards southward.”
An incredible multitude of people of all ranks have come, and gentlemen continue to come from far and near to see this phenomenon. For two or three Sundays especially, the desolated spot swarmed with spectators, to the number of several thousands. Had they been armed and drawn up, the place would have looked not only like the stage, where destruction had just acted a dreadful part; but like a field of battle, where the demon of war was just going to murder men enow to fill up one of the yawning graves, I mean, one of the newly formed chasms.
That all this was owing to an earthquake, there can be no reasonable doubt. From the stony bed of the river to the highest chasm, the soil (some feet below the surface) is exactly of the same rocky nature. This is evident from the similar quality of the rock shattered under the river, and of those which have been rent at the formation of the chasms; and from the very same kind of fossils, which are found in the ruins of both. It is absurd to suppose that the stratum of slippery earth, which forms the surface of the field of oats, could by slipping have rent the rock that bore it, and occasioned so amazing an overthrow. If the weight of the rising ground could have caused such a desolation, Madeley Wood on the same side of the river, and equally washed by it, would have slipt much sooner than the Birches: as having a far greater pressure, and being much steeper, undermined by coal pits, embowelled by stone pits, and every where very subject to little slips, accidents from which the Birches have always been remarkably free.
Among the spots of ground which have been forced up, there are four under the wood which have been raised some feet. Now, as those spots are quite at the top of the overthrow, they could not be pressed upward by the weight of the lower ground. Beside, large chasms being before and behind them, it cannot be conceived how they could have been raised by pressure; as it is impossible that huge masses of dry earth and solid rock should be forced up by being pressed between a double vacuum.
Moreover, if it had been a slip, occasioned by the left bank of the river giving way to the pressure of the high ground, all the land would have moved one way, namely, from the wood to the river; but it has moved in every direction; many hundred, not to say thousand, tons of the earth have gone east toward Madeley Wood: witness the bridge that is buried east, and the brook that is pounded northeast. A great deal is gone west also; witness many of the cracks toward Buildwas bridge, and many masses of earth which hang west. Although it is evident, that the grand motion has been southward, yet the remaining part of the road, and the stile in the field of oats, to this day hang remarkably north. And although most of the cracks run parallel to the river, not a few run perpendicular to it; and among these, the remarkable chasm near which the following sermon was preached: a chasm this, which could not be formed but by the ground moving east or west, and not toward the river. This appears likewise by part of a ploughed field, which has been torn from the rest, and carried several yards to the south west, as the direction of the furrows evidently demonstrates.
From these observations we may conclude that it was an earthquake accompanied by a considerable eruption of air: and this appears from the sudden gust of wind that shook Samuel Cookson’s windows, and affected a yew tree, which seems to have been blasted as well as two young trees, whose leaves have also turned yellow. They stand at the end of the long chasm, just in the way from it to the house where the sudden blast terrified the farmer at the time of the desolation.
This sentiment is confirmed, not only by the accident of the house at Buildwas, which unaccountably moved, cracking in several places, and partly sunk in, two days before; but by another singular earthquake that was, it seems, both felt and heard a little after at Bennington, in Shiffnal parish; though the earth did not open there as it did at the Birches. It seems, the matter, which was the second cause of our phenomenon, operated near the surface of the earth, and consequently could not cause those violent shocks and convulsions, which are felt far and near, when she is affected in her inmost bowels.
Perhaps also the confined matter that struggled for a vent, finding one soon, and working itself out gradually when it had found it, at once caused the earthquake to last longer upon the desolated spot, and prevented its being felt at a greater distance.
But whatever the second or natural cause of our phenomenon was, it is certain that the first or moral cause of it is two fold; on our part aggravated sin; and on God’s part warning justice.
The design of the following discourse was to point out that moral cause to inconsiderate spectators in general; and in particular to excite, in the hearts of my parishioners, an unfeigned gratitude for our preservation, and a salutary fear of the Almighty, who equally fulfils his providential will by storms or inundations, consumptions or fevers, famine or pestilence, slips or earthquakes.
Should the reader wish to know why I preached on that occasion upon the ruins, I will ingenuously tell him by what accidents and reasons I was induced to take that step. The day the earth opened at the Birches, as I considered one of the chasms, several of my parishioners, whom curiosity had brought to the awful spot, gathered around me. I observed to them, that the sight before us was a remarkable confirmation of the first argument of a book called, “An Appeal to Matter of Fact; or a rational Demonstration of Man’s fallen and lost Estate,” which I had just published, as a last effort to awaken to a sense of the fear of God, the careless gentlemen of my parish, to whom it is dedicated. Having a few copies about me, which I was going to present to some of them, I begged leave to read that argument: and, as I read, I enlarged a little upon the following passages: -
“Does not the natural state of the earth cast a light upon the spiritual condition of its inhabitants? Amidst a thousand beauties that indicate what it was when God pronounced it ‘very good,’ and (as the original imports also) ‘extremely beautiful,’ can an impartial inquirer help taking notice of a thousand striking proofs, that a multiplied curse rests upon this globe; and that man, who inhabits it, is now disgraced by the God of nature and providence? “Here deceitful morasses, or faithless quicksands, obstruct our way; there miry, impassable roads, or inhospitable sandy deserts, endanger our life. In one place we are stopped by stupendous chains of rocky mountains, broken into frightful precipices or hideous caverns; and in another we meet with ruinous valleys, cut deep by torrents, whose tremendous roar stuns the astonished traveller, &c.
“Nor does heaven alone dart destructive fires; earth - our mother earth, as if it were not enough frequently to corrupt the atmosphere by pestilential vapours, borrows the assistance of the devouring (or of the fluid) element, to terrify and scourge her guilty children. By sudden frightful chasms, and the mouths of her burning mountains, she vomits clouds of smoke, sulphureous flames, and calcined rocks; she emits streams of melted minerals; and as if she wanted to ease herself of the burden of her inhabitants, suddenly rises against them; and in battles of shaking, at once crushes, destroys, and buries them (or, as in the present case, their fields and buildings, their bridges and roads, their woods and rivers) in heaps of ruins. “When these astonishing scenes are past, they may indeed entertain us like a bloody battle that is seen at a distance; they may amuse our imagination when in a peaceful apartment we behold them beautifully represented by the pen of a Virgil, or the pencil of a Raphael. But to be in the midst of them, as thousands are sooner or later, is inexpressibly dreadful. It is actually to see the forerunners of Divine vengeance, and to hear the shaking of God’s destructive rod. It is to behold at once a lively emblem, and an awful pledge, of that fire and brimstone, storm and tempest, which the righteous Governor of the world will rain upon the ungodly; when the heavens shall pass away with a great noise; the elements shall melt away with fervent heat; and the earth, with the works that are therein, shall be burnt up.
“Now as reason loudly declares that the God of orders justice, and goodness, could never establish and continue this fearful course of things, but to punish the disorders of the moral world by those of the natural, we must conclude that man is guilty, from the alarming tokens of Divine displeasure, which (sooner or later) are so conspicuous in every part of the habitable globe,” and which are now so clearly seen, so sensibly felt in this ruinous spot. I concluded my reading and remarks by thanksgiving and prayer; beseeching the Preserver of men to bless the dreadful phenomenon before us, not only to the awakening of those who were then present, but of all the impenitent in the land; that when they should hear, they might fear and turn to the Lord, instead of provoking him by their crying sins to stop our rivers, overthrow our roads, cut off our harvest, carry away our lands, sink our buildings, and bury us in such immense and fearful graves, as had been instantaneously dug around us that morning.
Perceiving that seriousness sat upon all faces - remembering the apostolic precept, “Preach the word: be instant in season and out of season,” which is abundantly confirmed by these words of our Church in the communion service: “It is very meet, right, and our bounden duty that we should, at all times, and in all places, give thanks to almighty God;” hoping also that curiosity might bring some of the most profane to hear a sermon and join in thanksgiving on so extraordinary an occasion; and flattering myself that the sight of the ruins would fix the attention of the most trifling auditors, and add solemnity to the devotion of the most serious; I told the people then present, that if they would come again the next evening to the same place, I would endeavour to echo back and improve the loud call to repentance, which God had given us that day.
They readily consented: and when I came at the time appointed, to my vast surprise I found a great concourse of people, and among them several of my parishioners, who had never been at church in all their lives; to whom, after prayer and thanksgiving, suitable to the uncommon circumstances, I then preached a sermon; of which (so far as I can recollect) the reader may find the substance, with some additions, in the following pages. May it have a better effect upon him than it had upon some gentlemen that heard it! Whether they would also preach in their way a lecture to drunken colliers, wagoners, and bargemen; whether they would give me to understand, in the face of heaven and earth, that no ordinary nor extraordinary calls should ever make them regard the public worship of almighty God; or whether they would show, on the margin of the newly formed chasms, (those uncommon and dreadful graves,) their approbation of the heathenish maxim mentioned by St. Paul: “Let us drink, for to - morrow we die;” I do not pretend to say. But instead of prayer books, they pulled out their favourite companion, a bottle; and imparted the strong contents to each other as heartily as I did the awful contents of the text to the decent part of the congregation. Gentle reader, receive them as cordially as they did their stupifying antidote, and I ask no more. JOHN FLETCHER.
MADELEY, July 6, 1773.