To Mr. John Downes
Weigh this in time; and do not, to oblige a friend, bring the guilt of perjury on your own soul.
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CLVII. — To Mr. John Downes.
MY DEAR BROTHER, LONDON, November 7, 1751.
YOUR first hindrance is easily removed. Most of the Preachers have now all they want. So might you have had, if you had spoken to the Stewards, or, in ease of their neglect, to me.
As to your second, bodily weakness is a good reason for a temporary retirement.
Your third observation, that the people in general do not practice what they hear, is a melancholy truth. But what then? Is this a sufficient cause why either you or I should leave them? why we should give them up to their own hearts’ lusts, and let them follow their own imaginations? In nowise. Especially while there are some among them whose conversation is worthy of the Gospel of Christ.
I grant, also, some of the Preachers themselves do not adorn the Gospel. Therefore we have been constrained to lay some of them aside, and some others are departed of themselves. Let us that remain be doubly in earnest. You should make an excursion (as to Alnwick) now and then. Is not John Fenwick a proper person to relieve James Tucker at Whitehaven? If you think he is, pray send him thither forthwith. My love to your father and mother.
I entreat you, tell me without reserve, what you think of C. Skelton? Is his heart with us, or is it not? Peace be with you. Adieu!
CLVIII. — To the Same.
MY DEAR BROTHER, LONDON, November 28,
1751.
I THINK you write to me, as if you did not care to write. I am glad you went to Alnwick. The method you took of talking with each person in the Society apart, I hear, has been greatly blessed to them. I do not see how you could have dealt more favorably with T — G — than you did. If he will leave the Society, he must leave it. But if he does, you are clear. I know not what to do more for poor Jenny Keith. Alas, from what a height is she fallen! What a burning and shining light was she six or seven years ago! But thus it ever was. Many of the first shall be last, and many of the last first.
How are you employed? from five in the morning till nine at night? For I suppose you want eight hours’ sleep. What becomes of logic and Latin? Is your soul alive and more athirst for God?
I am
Your affectionate friend and brother.
CLIX. — To the Same.
MY DEAR BROTHER, LONDON, December 10,
1751.
I THANK C. Herrington for his letter. He should not fail to write, whenever he sees occasion. If you are straitened for Preachers, could not you make use of George Atchinson, from Stockton, for a time? I suppose James Tucker also is now with you. He is, I verily believe, honest of heart; but a little too wise in his own eyes. Speak plainly to him, if you should ever hear that anything is amiss in his preaching or conversation.
Brother Reeves will be here in a day or two. But he cannot return into the north yet. I wish you would regulate a little at a time, as you find your health will permit. But you must carefully guard against any irregularity, either as to food, sleep, or labor. Your water should be neither quite warm (for fear of relaxing the tone of your stomach) nor quite cold. Of all flesh, mutton is the best for you; of all vegetables, turnips, potatoes, and apples, (roasted, boiled, or baked,) if you can bear them.
Take care you do not lose anything you have learned already, whether you learn more or not. You must needs be here (if alive) the first of March, at our Conference. None will be present but those we invite. How apt is the corruptible body to press down the soul! But all shall work together for good.
Now you can sympathize a little with me. We must expect no thanks from man. Evil for goodwill be our constant portion here. But it is well. The Lord is at hand.
I am
Your affectionate friend and brother.
CLX. — To the Same.
MY DEAR BROTHER, LONDON, December 28,
1751.
YOUR letter is the picture of your heart. It is honest and upright. I believe a journey to London will do you good. If you could borrow a horse to Leeds, you may take my mare from thence, which is in C. Shent’s keeping. As you ride slow, and not many miles a day, I suppose she would bring you hither very well; and when you are here, we can easily find means to supply your other wants.
I think it is ill husbandry for you to work with your hands, in order to get money; because you may be better employed. But, if you will work, come and superintend my printing. I will give you forty pounds for the first