world, and it was his humour to commence his letters "The Cabin, Monday morning," or "On board the Providence, Tuesday."
"I am here," he writes to a friend, "in my little cabin at the chapel day and night, and no spot is so sacred or so highly esteemed by me as this: it is to me Bethel, Mount Tabor, the hill Mizar. Many a heavy load have I cast off here, and many a heavenly ray, many a sweet foretaste of better days have I had in this little cot." His first effort in London had only been one among his many labours; but even when he finally settled there he never gave up his journeys into the country; on the contrary, he extended them to other parts of the land. In 1786 he spent six weeks at Bristol and Bath, preaching to crowded audiences, and to the colliers at Kingswood.
Probably, as a gardener or a coal-heaver, he had only been too glad when the hour came to throw down the spade or the sack; but now as preacher he never seemed able to rest. Every week he preached five sermons in London of unusual length, besides occasional ones elsewhere. While in the country, he mentions on one occasion preaching as many as thirteen times in nine days. As to time, he would not be limited, going on frequently for an hour and a half or two hours; and when on one occasion a man in the congregation happened to turn his eyes to the clock, he said, " We do not preach here by the hour."
He was at this time a tall, thin man, slight in figure, and wonderfully erect, considering he had spent thirty years of his life toiling in fields, in coal-sheds, or on the cobbler's bench. His dress was the reverse of slovenly. From an early time he had been particular about what he called his "parsonic livery." The intelligence displayed in his square massive forehead and finely arched brows was somewhat hidden by an ugly short-cropped black wig he wore. Otherwise his features were not specially handsome. The terrible struggles of his early life had left their mark on his countenance. It was stern, and wanting in that repose only observable in beautiful natures. There was, however, a fund of humour which broke out on occasion, and made him cheerful in society but it was slightly caustic, and as likely to wound as to amuse.[1]
- ↑ His portrait, painted by Pellegrini, an Italian artist, is in the National Portrait Gallery at Bethnal Green.
