The leading member in the Methodist church, Richard Wilson, opened the first wine and spirit store at Bramley, and corrupted the whole country round with his wares, doing far more for the devil and sin than the preachers could do for God and holiness. Yet no one seemed to think there was anything dishonorable or diabolical in the business.

At a social party to which I was invited at Leeds, consisting of preachers and leading members of the church, one man, a preacher, got so drunk, that he became a most distressing spectacle. I cannot describe his mishaps. There were others who ought to have committed themselves in the same sad way, for they drank as much, and even more, but they had stronger constitutions, or were better seasoned.

At Liverpool, my first station, every one on whom the preachers called in their pastoral rounds, asked them to drink. Even Dr. Raffles, the popular Congregational minister, had wine and cakes brought out, when I and my superintendent called on him one morning. Wine and cakes, or cakes and spirits, were placed on the table by all who were not too poor to buy such things, and even the poorer members contrived to supply themselves with rum or whisky. And all expected the preachers to drink. And the preachers did drink. Mr. Allin, my superintendent, was not by far the greatest drinker in the Connexion, yet he seldom allowed the poison placed before him to remain untasted. I was so organized, that I never could drink a full glass of either wine or ale without feeling more or less intoxicated, and for spirits I had quite a distaste; so that I was obliged to take intoxicating drinks very sparingly. Yet I conformed, to some extent, to the prevailing custom; and it was not, I fear, through any great goodness of my own, that I did not become a drunkard. Several of my fellow-ministers became drunkards. Mr. Allin himself, after he fell under the influence of that bad rich man at Sheffield became a drunkard, and brought on shocks of paralysis by his excesses. My superintendent at Sheffield drank himself into delirium tremens, and I fear he never got over his bad habits. Mr. Chapman was a notorious sot. I knew him personally, and was compelled, at times, to witness his disgusting habits. Yet he was never expelled, though he was superannuated some forty years or more before his death. His superannuation reduced his income some seventy-five per cent., and made it impossible for him to drink so freely as he had been wont, and so, very probably, helped to prolong his miserable life.

While stationed at Liverpool, I was called away to supply the place of the superintendent preacher in the Chester circuit for a few weeks, who had died very suddenly, under very peculiar circumstances. His name was Dunkerley. I was told by persons likely to know the truth, that he was a very drunken man. On one occasion, while he was over at Liverpool, he fell down in the Theatre Square, and had to be taken up and carried into a neighboring shop. At first it was supposed he had had a fit; but a little further attention to the case revealed the secret that he was drunk. On another occasion, on his return from Liverpool to Chester, he was observed, when he got off the coach, to stagger backwards and fall down. Some friends that were waiting for his arrival, ran and helped him up, and took him to a member's house just by. He was found to be drunk then also. The members spoke to him on the subject, and reproved him sharply, and then put him to bed. The Tuesday night following, the matter was mentioned at the leaders' meeting, when he was present. The leaders told him that such conduct could not be tolerated, and that unless a change took place for the better, the matter would have to be laid before the Quarterly Meeting. The preacher acknowledged his fault, and promised, if they would forgive him that once, that he would do so no more. I believe that from that time he gave up the use of intoxicating drinks for a week or two; but shortly after, having to go to the Welsh side of the Circuit, he began to use them again. At one of the places on that side of the Circuit, the leaders were accustomed to have their meetings in a room in a public-house, near the Chapel, and to lodge the preacher there. Perhaps poor Dunkerley thought it would hardly look right for him to be accommodated at a public-house with a bed, and yet take nothing to drink; so he got some gin. The relish for the gin must have returned upon him with great power when he began to taste it, for he drank very freely. He drank so much, that the publican himself began to feel alarmed for him. A short time after he had gone up stairs to bed, the people of the house heard a noise of an unusual character in his room, and on going to see what was the matter, they found the preacher on his knees, in an apoplectic fit, the blood gushing from his nose and ears. He died the same evening. He died drunk.

It was this man's place that I went to supply. I do not wonder now that Dunkerley and several other preachers in the New Connexion were drunkards, when I take into consideration the customs and habits of the people of the Connexion in those days. I never met with anything in any society, that I recollect, more at variance with the principles of Christian temperance, and more likely to lead both preachers and people into drunkenness and profligacy, than the habits and customs of many of the members of the New Connexion in the Chester circuit. In the first place they were all users of intoxicating drinks, and all those that were in tolerable circumstances regularly kept spirits as well as milder, weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks in their houses. In the next place a preacher could never call at the houses of those people, whatever the time of day, without being urged to drink of either the stronger or weaker kinds of intoxicating drinks. And he could hardly refuse to drink without seeming to slight the kindness of the people, and running the risk of giving offence. In the third place they were very much addicted to extravagant social parties, pleasure jaunts, &c. They were worse than the people of Leeds in this respect; unless they were worse than usual while I was there. All the time that I was in Chester, there was not a single week or day when they had not either some dinner-party or tea-party, or both, or else some pleasure jaunt on the water or on land. And those pleasure parties and feasts were always occasions of extravagant eating and drinking. Besides abundance of flesh and game, and other luxuries, there was always an overwhelming supply of intoxicating drinks, and great quantities were consumed. I have seen men on those occasions drink five, six, eight, or even ten glasses of wine or spirits, besides drinking ale, or porter, or wine at meals. I recollect very distinctly seeing a person, and that a preacher, drink, in addition to what he consumed over his meal, ten glasses of Port wine between dinner and tea, after which he went to preach.

Religious society was not quite so corrupt in the principal towns of the Hanley circuit, where I was next stationed, as at Liverpool and Chester, yet there was a fearful amount of respectable intemperance there. There was no end to the feasting. And as I, though so young, was very popular, I was always expected to be present. The luxuries in which I indulged brought on indigestion. Indigestion, and close study, and hard work in the pulpit, brought on a most wearisome languor and depression. To help me, one rich friend sent me a bottle of Sherry wine. Another sent me Elderberry wine. These made me worse. It was well this mistaken kindness did not ruin me. But I was preserved, thank God, both from death and drunkenness.

For two years more I was in the midst of these awful temptations to intemperance, and a witness to their deadly effects on several of my brethren. I felt that I was in danger. And I saw that the church was suffering. I looked round for a remedy.

Just then there came rumors of a temperance society, and of attempts at a temperance reformation. One of our young preachers had joined this new society, and had labelled his whisky and brandy medicine. He left his beer, and porter, and wine, unlabelled, and drank them as freely as before. The people who told me of this, ridiculed the man, and ridiculed the movement for temperance reform. I was rather pleased with the news, though news of a more thorough movement might have pleased me better. But the beginnings of things are small. The movement soon became radical enough, and I kept pace with it.

In 1832 I gave up the use of ardent spirits, and became a member of the old-fashioned temperance society. In 1833 I gave up the use of intoxicating drinks of all kinds, and joined the teetotal society. In 1834 I gave up the use of tobacco. A few months later I gave up tea and coffee, and took water as my usual drink.

These changes in my way of life gave great offence to many in the church to which I belonged, and led them to speak of me, and act towards me, in a way that was anything but kind and agreeable. This was especially the case with regard to my disuse of intoxicating drinks, and my advocacy of teetotalism. I might have been borne with perhaps if I had become a drunkard; for drunkards were in some cases tolerated; but a teetotaler was not to be endured. Some called me a fool, and some a madman, and one man pronounced me no better than a suicide and a murderer. "You will be dead," said he, "in twelve months, if you persist in your miserable course, and what will become of your wife and children? And what account can you give of the people you are leading to untimely death by your example?" One person at Chester, at whose house I had visited some years before, when supplying the place of the deceased minister, would neither invite me to his house, nor speak to me in the street, except in the way of insult, now that I had become a teetotaler. He said no one should ever sit at his table who would not take a glass of wine. And I never did sit at his table after. He invited my colleagues, and he invited the old superannuated minister, whose character I cannot describe, but he never invited me.

One object that I had in view in adopting my abstemious way of life was to save a little money to buy books. I had become an author too, and had thoughts of publishing a number of works, and I wanted to be able to do so without having to go into debt. Then I wanted to do good in other ways. I liked to be able to give a little to the distressed and needy that I was called upon to visit. And I liked to subscribe occasionally to funds for the erection of new schools and chapels in circuits where I was stationed. Among my reasons for becoming a teetotaler was a desire to induce others to do so, who seemed to me to be likely, if they continued to use intoxicating drinks, to become drunkards. Then I had seen the terrible effects of the drinking system, both in the Church and among my relations. And I was anxious for the success of every kind of measure that seemed likely to promote the reformation and salvation of mankind.

10. I had not been a teetotaler long before I became anxious to see my brethren in the ministry teetotalers. I wrote a letter to the Temperance Advocate, giving an account of the experiment I had made, and stating the happy results by which it had been followed, and urging others, by all the considerations that had influenced my own mind, to adopt and advocate the teetotal principle. Mr. Livesey sent a copy of the Advocate containing my letter to all the ministers of the Body to which I belonged. There were but few of them however who seemed to be able to enter into my views and feelings, or to understand and appreciate the motives by which I was actuated. The generality looked on the course I had taken as a proof of a restless and ill-regulated mind, and instead of following my example, treated me and my teetotalism with ridicule. Some were angry, and scolded me in right good earnest. They supposed that it was I that had sent them the Paper containing my letter, and seemed to think themselves called upon to resent my interference with their tastes and habits in a very decided manner. Several of them sent me very offensive letters, and one of them concluded a long outpouring of abuse and insolence with some very cutting but just remarks on my inconsistency in pressing abstinence from intoxicating drinks so earnestly on others, while I myself was guilty of the unreasonable and offensive practice of smoking tobacco.

I had long had misgivings as to the propriety of smoking, and when I read this cutting rebuke, I resolved to smoke no more. I said to my wife, "They shall not be able to charge me with inconsistency again on that score," and I there and then broke my pipe on the grate, and emptied my tobacco cup into the fire, and I have never annoyed others, or defiled myself, with the abomination of tobacco smoke or tobacco spittle from that day to this. My angry correspondent had done me an important service.

11. I met with some of the bitterest and most persistent enemies of teetotalism in the circuit in which I was then travelling. There were several members of society, class-leaders, and local preachers, in and around Chester, who were slaves to intoxicating drinks. Some of them were habitual drunkards, and others of them were not much better; and they treated all who would not countenance their excesses as personal enemies. Many of them were accustomed to go to public houses, and sit there drinking and smoking for hours together, like ordinary drunkards. This horrible habit they gave up shortly after my appointment to the circuit, but several of them raged against me with tremendous fury, and would have done anything to destroy my influence. At first they were kept in check to some extent by the wisdom and goodness of my superintendent, who, though he did not become a teetotaler himself, showed great respect for those who did. When he left Chester, a man of a very different character came in his place, who sided with the drinkers, and took a savage delight in annoying the teetotalers, and exulted as if he had achieved some wonder of benevolence and piety when he had induced some poor reformed drunkard to break his pledge, though he plunged again into the horrors of intemperance. I called one forenoon on Mr. Downs. He was frantic, and his wife was wild with anxiety and terror. She seemed as if she had been awake and weeping all the night. I soon saw the cause of the dreadful spectacle. Downs had been a drunkard, but had, under my influence, become a teetotaler, and joined the church. His wife had been a member of the church for some years. She was overjoyed with the reformation and conversion of her husband, and was promising for herself and her husband, for the future, a very happy life. My superintendent had got poor Downs into his company, and by reasoning, ridicule, and coaxing, had induced him to take a glass of ale. His horrible appetite for intoxicating drink returned with irresistible force, and he drank himself drunk. He went home in a very deplorable condition. His wife, distressed beyond measure, got him to bed, and he fell asleep, and she, poor woman, sat watching him, and weeping, hoping he might wake to lament his error and become again a sober man. He awoke in a fury, and attempted to destroy himself. He was mad with shame and horror, and declared he could not and would not live. When I entered, his wife had been watching him and struggling with him for several hours, to keep him from suicide. I just got in in time to save the man, and relieve his exhausted wife, and I was enabled to reconcile the man to live a little longer, and try teetotalism again. My misguided superintendent never attempted to reason with me, but when he thought he had a chance of punishing me for my teetotalism, he snatched at the apparent opportunity with the greatest eagerness.

One week night, when appointed to preach in Chester Chapel, I gave the people a sermon on temperance. Some days after, I was summoned to a meeting of officials, to give an account of my doings. I attended. My superintendent, the bitter enemy of teetotalism, was in the chair, and on each side of him sat a number of men of similar feelings, and of grosser habits. I was told there was a complaint against me, to the effect that the last time I was at Chester I had preached teetotalism instead of the Gospel. I said, "Is that all?" And they answered "Yes." "Then you ought to be ashamed of yourselves," I said, and left the meeting. What they did after my departure I was never told.

One man in that neighborhood circulated a report that I had asked my mother-in-law, who had been staying some time at our house, to have a glass of brandy and water, when she was leaving for home in the coach. This slander was refuted by a deputation, who at once visited my mother-in-law, and brought back from her a flat contradiction of the statement.

I ought to say, that while I was in this circuit, hundreds of drunkards were reformed, many of whom became happy, exemplary, and useful members of the Church. I was the means of tens of thousands becoming teetotalers in the country round about, and the happy effects of my labors in those regions remain, to some extent, to the present day.

12. In 1837, while I was stationed in the Mossley Circuit, I began a weekly periodical called the Evangelical Reformer. I had long wished for a suitable means of laying my views before my friends, but had found none. The editor of the magazine published by the Body to which I belonged was a very disagreeable man, and to me he was more unaccommodating and offensive than to others. He would have published articles under my name, but not till he had altered them, and made them conformable to his own ideas and tastes. And this was more than I could endure. There was another periodical which I could use, and had used occasionally, but it lent itself to ill-disposed people as a vehicle of slander, and I had ceased to feel myself at liberty to give it my countenance. With a small periodical of my own I could communicate with my friends at pleasure, and I used my Evangelical Reformer for this purpose with great freedom. I published my views on temperance, on marriage, on trade, on education, on dress, on diet, on religious parties, on books and reading, on the use of money, on the duty of the Church to support its poor members, on toleration and human creeds, and on a multitude of other subjects, and urged on the churches a reform on all these points. My freedom of expression soon brought me into fresh trouble. An article which I published on "Toleration and Human Creeds," was considered by some of my brethren to be highly objectionable and dangerous, and was brought before Conference. Conference was pressed by many to condemn the article, and to show its disapprobation of it by punishing the author. Others entreated that Conference should spare the author, lest mischief should follow, and content itself with privately expressing disapprobation of the article. The latter parties prevailed; but their moderation was made of no effect by the editor of the magazine who wickedly published the obnoxious resolution to the world, and so rendered it necessary for me to write again on the subject, to defend myself and my article. The result was a controversy between me and some of my brethren, which led at length to the most serious consequences.

Another article was objected to by many of my brother ministers. A draper, a leading member of the society at Ashton, published a circular, announcing the winter fashions, and sent copies to members of my congregation, pressing them to go and purchase his wares, many of which were both costly and useless. I copied this circular into my periodical, and advised my readers to disregard its counsels, and to spend their money like Christians. I added some remarks on the inconsistency of professing Christians urging people, even in the way of trade, to waste their Master's money on things forbidden by His word. This article created a great amount of excitement, and some would fain have had it censured by Conference, along with the other article; but they were not allowed to have their way.

Both my periodical and my other publications were favorably received, and had a large circulation, and my opponents thought they gave me too much power, and made me dangerous; and this became the occasion of further unpleasantness. On the other hand the magazine had but a poor circulation, and the Book-room, though it had a large amount of capital, did but a very limited business; and I suggested reforms with a view to render them more useful. I urged an improvement of the magazine, and the publication of cheap books, with a view to supply useful reading to the members of the churches, and to people generally. All these propositions proved unpalatable to the easy-going officials, and brought on me fresh trials.

13. Again; the standard of morality was low in many of our societies, and I pleaded for the enforcement of Christian discipline. Some of our members were brewers, some publicans, some spirit-merchants, some beer-shop keepers. Old Mr. Thwaites was a publican. His son, who was both class-leader and local preacher, was both a drink-seller and a pawnbroker. And I am not certain that pawnbroking in England is not as bad a business as drink-selling. The two are nearly related and are fast friends. Drunkenness leads to pawnbroking, and pawnbroking helps drunkenness. Timothy Bentley, one of the greatest brewers in England, the poisoner-general both of the souls and bodies of the immense population of my native county, was a Methodist class-leader at Huddersfield. I once met in his class. He was a most venerable and saintly-looking man, and stood in high repute. I regarded these businesses as anti-christian, and contended that those who persisted in them after due admonition, should be expelled.

The businesses named above were not the worst. Some members of society were wholesale panders. Take the following facts. When I was sent to Liverpool I had a young man, whose name I need not give, for a bed-fellow. He was a draper, and his customers were unfortunate women. He sold to them on trust, and went round weekly to collect his money. His father, who was a leading man in the society, and his brothers, were in the same way of business. Another man who was a leading member and an official, followed the same dishonorable occupation. It was usual with those people, when their wretched customers were turned out of their houses by their landlords, to provide them with fresh houses, and even to supply them with furniture. When fairs or races were at hand, they supplied them with extra dresses and ornaments, to enable them to ply their horrible trade to better advantage. These facts I had in part from my bed-fellow, and in part from the people in whose house he kept his shop, and with whom I lived. When I came to know these things I was very uneasy; and on finding that it was unsafe to sleep with my bed-fellow, I got fresh lodgings. This vexed my bed-fellow and all his family, and made them my enemies. I spoke of these things to my superintendent, but he advised me to be cautious what I did and said in reference to such matters. And he told me a story that he had met with in a work on the ministry by an American, which he had just been reading. This author said, that out of fifty ministers whom he had known expelled from their holy office, only one or two had been expelled for immoral conduct or gross inconsistency: all the rest had been discarded on account of imprudences. This was meant to deter me from interfering either by word or deed with faulty members of society. And he backed his ungodly counsel by as bad an example. For he not only left those wicked people to pursue their evil courses undisturbed, but visited at their houses, allowed his family to receive presents from them, and, when he was leaving the circuit, did himself accept from their unclean hands a portion of their filthy gains, in the shape of a testimonial of their respect for his great abilities and distinguished virtues. This person, whose general conduct was much in keeping with the facts I have given above, though he was the foremost minister in the Connexion, proved my most persistent adversary in after life, and never rested till he had brought about my expulsion from the ministry.

14. I will mention another affair to show what notions certain members of the church had of what was required of Christians in reference to business matters. I bought some handkerchiefs of a man, a member of society, in Chester, on his assurance that they would wash. When we washed them they came to pieces. I asked the man afterwards if he was aware when he sold the handkerchiefs that they were rotten. He said he was. "Then why did you sell me them?" I asked. He said he had bought them for good ones himself, and that he could not afford to lose what he had given for them. I wanted such people to be dealt with according to the rules of Christian discipline.

15. There were many other sad facts, far more than I have either time or disposition to mention, which forced themselves on my notice, and obliged me, in conscience, to plead and labor for reform. There seemed a dreadful distance between the character of Christ and the character of the Church; and I wished to make it less. How far I erred in my efforts to bring about this desirable result, and how far I acted wisely, it is not for me to say. I know that my object was good, and that the course I took was the one that seemed best to me at the time; but it is probable that some would have gone about the work in a wiser way. I never excelled in certain forms of prudence. I was prone to speak forth my thoughts and feelings without much consideration and with but little reserve; and I often used the plainest and even the strongest words. I was too open. My heart was too near my mouth. I thought aloud. And I was not sufficiently tender of people's feelings. Nor did I make sufficient allowance for their prejudices and imperfections. I probably expected too much from men. And some of the reforms which I proposed might at the time be impracticable. I was accustomed to muse very much on the teachings of Christ and His Apostles, and to image to myself a state of things in the Church which, though very desirable, was probably unattainable, except through many slow preliminary changes. I wished for a church "without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing,"—a church that should set forth and carry out the highest principles of Christian purity and charity—and that was a blessing to be looked for not in the present, but in the future only.

16. Then I had but little knowledge of human nature, either in its regenerate or unregenerate state. I over-rated men's virtues, and under-rated their defects. I trusted them too much and feared them too little. I took all who put on a fair appearance, for friends, and imparted to them the innermost thoughts of my soul. And many proved unworthy of my confidence. And I often over-rated men's talents or capabilities. I was not aware of the infinite difference in men's powers. I thought all my brethren in the ministry, and almost all my brother Christians, were capable, under proper culture, of being made as wise, as able, as eloquent, as the most distinguished in the Church. I was not aware that some men were naturally palm-trees, and others only brambles; that some were pearls, and others only pebbles; and that these constitutional differences were unalterable. Hence I expected too much of some, and was too impatient perhaps when disappointed. I erred with regard both to men and institutions, and my colleagues were often offended with what they deemed my unreasonable expectations and demands.

17. But in truth, it is not necessary for reformers to err, in order to give offence. The best and wisest One that ever appeared on earth gave offence to those who were wedded to error and abuses. A Christian reformer can never please the "earthly, the sensual, and the devilish." The history of Christ and of Paul has settled that. A Christian reformer never does the right thing in the estimation of the idle, the selfish, the corrupt: and if he does, he never does it at the right time, or in the right way. He always meddles too early, or too late; and he always goes too fast, or too slow; and he always does too much, or too little. He interferes with their ease, their interests, and their pleasures, and that is enough. They will, in return, endeavor to destroy his influence, if not to take away his life. They will impute to him the vilest motives. They will stick at no lie, no wrong, that seems likely to damage his reputation. They will magnify his innocent weaknesses or trifling inconsistencies, and represent them as gross and unpardonable faults. If he is faithful they will call him rash; if he is prudent they will call him hypocritical; and they will labor in every way to awaken against him distrust and prejudice in the minds of the better-disposed among their brethren.

And many of the better-disposed themselves often see what tries them greatly in the character and doings of reformers. It is the natural tendency of the reforming spirit to lead a man to look too much at what is amiss in men and systems, and too little at what is right and praiseworthy. It is what is amiss that wants reforming, so he fixes his mind on that, and makes it the constant subject of his conversation. And so it was with myself no doubt to some extent. And this, to men of conservative tendencies, who look more at the good and less at the evil in the men and systems with which they are connected, seems a grievous fault, an inexcusable piece of injustice, deserving the severest censure. And they repay it with the sternest condemnation.

And conservatives can be as blind or one-sided as the most eager reformers. They can shut their eyes to what is evil, or treat great abuses as excusable trifles; while they magnify what is good beyond all bounds. And when they get excited or vexed they can be as unjust towards the reformer, as the most rabid reformer can be towards them or their pet institutions. And there are few things fiercer than the fire of bigotry, even in minds not destitute of piety. The truth is, when men wax hot, either in favor of reform or against it, justice is forgotten, and kindness and courtesy are out of the question.

And so it was in the controversies which arose out of my efforts at reform. I was assailed both by the malignity of the corrupt, and by the bigotry of the misguided. I was hated by the bad, and dreaded by some of the good, and abused and persecuted by both. And some of my enemies had neither mercy nor moderation. They pressed matters to the most terrible extremes.

And I was not sufficiently on my guard. Instead of possessing my soul in patience, and casting my care on God, I allowed their persecutions to increase the bitterness of my unhappy feelings, and render my ultimate separation from them inevitable.

18. There were several other matters which had something to do in causing unpleasant feelings between me and a number of my brethren.

It fell to my lot to be unusually popular. I became so at a very early period. I was, in consequence, often invited by other circuits to preach their special sermons, and I frequently accepted those invitations. Some of my superintendents were annoyed at this, and showed their displeasure in very offensive ways. While I was in Hanley circuit my superintendent called a meeting of a number of leading friends, before which I was summoned to appear. There my acceptance of invitations to preach occasional sermons was charged against me as an offence, and I was ordered not to go into other circuits any more, without the consent of my superintendent. I offered no objection to this. My superintendent next charged me with having a number of objectionable books in my library. He had requested the woman at whose house I lodged to show him into my room during my absence, and there he had found the works of Shakespeare, Barrow, Tillotson, and Paley, and some volumes of poems by Lord Byron. The meeting advised me to get rid of Shakespeare and Byron, and to be careful how I used the works of Barrow, Tillotson, and Paley, as they were not Methodistical, and my great concern, it was said, should be to excel as a teacher and defender of Methodism. With this recommendation I could not entirely comply. I retained my Shakespeare; I have him yet. And I read the works of Tillotson, Barrow, and Paley as freely as I had done before. But I lost all confidence in my superintendent, and a portion of the respect I had felt for those who took his part. Towards the close of the year my superintendent and his friends endeavored to prevent me from receiving a perfect certificate, on the pretence that I had expressed a doubt whether my health would prove equal to the work of the ministry. Their objections proved of no avail; but the spirit which my superintendent showed, increased the unhappy feeling which his previous unkindness had awakened in my breast.

19. The wife of one of our ministers published a book, and the husband sent it to me for review. It contained, mixed up with a great variety of useful remarks, a number of anti-scriptural and antinomian passages. While I did justice to the rest of the book, I exposed its errors with great fidelity, and gave the husband great offence.

20. About the same time a gentleman at whose house I was billeted at Bury, when lecturing there on temperance, made me a present of a volume of Channing's discourses. I read this volume with the greatest delight, and spoke of it highly in my periodical. Now Channing was a Unitarian, and in one of the discourses contained in the volume which I had commended, there were several Unitarian expressions. The husband of the lady whose book I had reviewed brought the matter before Conference. He also quoted from my periodical a number of passages which he contended were not Methodistical. He was very violent in his remarks, and concluded his address by demanding my expulsion. He had conferred with a number of other preachers before Conference came on, and formed a considerable party, and the clamor for my condemnation was both loud and somewhat general. A gentleman, however, of great influence in Conference,—the same who had pleaded for moderation at the Conference previous,—rose and proposed a gentler course. The result was a committee, explanations and a settlement. After the Conference, the terms of the settlement were misrepresented by my opponents, and I felt called upon to put them in their proper light. This revived the controversy, and made matters worse than they had been before.

21. I have referred to the rule which required young preachers to remain single for four or five years. When a person was received into the ministry, he was required to give a pledge that he would keep this rule. I declined to give this pledge, I said I had no intention to marry before the appointed time, and that if I did so, I should be in the hands of the Conference, and they could do with me what they thought best. This was considered sufficient, and I was accepted. As it happened I did marry before the appointed time. I had had such unsuitable lodgings found me where I had been stationed, and I had suffered so much in consequence, that I felt justified in taking a wife and providing accommodations for myself, I took for my wife a woman of exemplary character, of amiable disposition, and engaging manners, and I put the circuits in which I was stationed to no additional expense or trouble. I took my own house, and provided my own furniture. And I neither begged nor borrowed a penny, nor did I run one penny into debt. And I worked as hard after marriage as before, and probably harder, and to better purpose. The Conference however punished me by putting me a year back, and transporting me to the most distant part of a very distant circuit. Thither I had to remove my wife and furniture at great expense. And the allowance for board there was the lowest that the laws allowed a society to give. My whole yearly income was only forty pounds, or two hundred dollars. I was required too to be often and long from home in distant parts of the circuit. I went however to my appointment and set to work, disposed, though sorrowful, to do my duty. I got a part of an old uninhabited house, and my wife made it comfortable. We lived economically, and kept out of debt, without the aid of either gifts or loans, and I never had a happier year, and my labors were never better received or more successful; and Blyth, the place of my banishment, will be dear to me as long as I live.

22. Yet I had many trials while stationed there. My superintendent was unkind, and tried from time to time to do me harm. But though he caused me much trouble at times, a higher power overruled things for my good. One of the societies over which he had great influence was really cruel. It refused to postpone a service to allow me to go and see my child when it was very ill, and thought to be in great danger. The circuit was nearly thirty miles in length, and I had to spend nearly half my time from fifteen to twenty-three miles away from home. Once when starting for the most distant of my appointments, I had left my little child very unwell, and apparently in danger of death. It was too bad that I should have had to leave my little family under such circumstances; but the feeling in many parts of the circuit was so unfriendly towards me, in consequence of the unfavorable representations of my views and habits of thought circulated by my superintendent and his friends, that I could not have missed an appointment with safety. I had been away five days, when I heard that my child was worse, and likely to die. I had still one appointment to fulfil, but I resolved, if possible, to get it postponed, and hasten home. I went to the place and requested the leaders to allow me to put off the appointment to the following week. They refused my request. I told them I had received word that my child was likely to die, and that I was anxious to be with its afflicted mother; but they would not give way. I was sadly tried, and I said, "I shall go home notwithstanding. If I find my child alive and likely to recover, I will return and preach; if I do not find it better, I shall not return. I shall stay at home and take the consequences!" I had already walked thirteen miles. It was ten or eleven more to Blyth. I walked the whole distance. There was no conveyance. My superintendent was allowed horse hire; but I was not: and I could not afford to pay for a horse myself out of sixteen dollars or three pound five a month. I reached home, and found my child a little better. After a little rest, I started back on foot to my appointment. My wife looked out of the window after me, weeping, afraid to ask me to remain with her. She knew the temper of my superintendent, and the feeling of the people, so she wept in silence. I walked over ten miles more, and then preached. I walked altogether thirty-three miles that day. I was very much tired; but I had seen my wife and child, so I went through my work without complaining, and was up very early next morning, and walked ten miles more to breakfast with my darling wife, and to comfort her sorrowful heart. My child got well, and all things turned out happily in the end. Still, the unkindness of the Conference in punishing me so undeservedly, and the cruelty of my superintendent and the Westmoor leaders, made me feel very keenly, and I could never think of those matters without something like indignation and horror. And all these annoyances lessened my respect for many of my brethren, and helped to prepare the way for future troubles.

My troubles did not all come from the preachers. There were several laymen in and about Newcastle-on-Tyne, who seemed to think it a duty to annoy their young minister. The worst, though in some respects the best, of that class was Thomas Snowdon, an old local preacher, leader, and trustee. The first interview that I had with this man he took occasion to insult me respecting my marriage, and also gave me to understand that he should expect me to be in perfect subjection to his will, if I wished to enjoy much peace or comfort in the circuit. It fell to my lot to be lodged and boarded for part of my time at his house, and to show his way of proceeding I may give the following.

It was his custom to read a portion of the Scriptures to his family every morning, and as he passed along he would make comments on what he read. When I was there, he would frequently stop in his readings and comments, to ask my opinion, and he seemed to expect that I must always concur in what he said. At times however I was obliged to dissent from his sayings, and then would follow a little controversy. Those controversies were never very profitable, in consequence of his constant desire to force his own opinions on me, and to extort from me assent to his whimsical and foolish observations. Yet he still continued to force those controversies.

He also took upon himself the office of perpetual censurer of my discourses. And his censures were generally proportioned to the goodness of the sermon. If I happened to be particularly at liberty in my discourse, and preach better than usual, he would blame almost everything. If I preached indifferently, he would censure less; and if I preached poorly, if I was embarrassed in my discourse, and seemed troubled or sad on that account, he would scarcely censure at all. Then the things which he censured would be sure to be the best and truest parts of my sermon. He appeared to think that he was out of his duty, unless he was endeavoring to torture the mind of the young preacher, and to force him, if possible, into subjection to his will.

On one occasion he and I had nearly quarrelled. He had tried me till I could keep silence no longer, so I told him plainly what I thought about his manner of proceeding. I spoke so plainly, that both he and his wife were seriously put about. Soon after that, on my visiting the Newcastle side of the circuit, I found that the people at whose house I was then accustomed to sleep, had gone off, and closed the house, so that I was obliged to look out for other lodgings. I went directly to Mr. Snowdon's. He was the principal man in the circuit, and it was his place to see that I was properly provided for. His wife seemed astonished when I entered the house: but I told her how the matter stood; and I added, that I did not feel disposed to go, at that time of the night, (for it was getting rather late) to any other lodging; so that I hoped she would give me a bed. I also said, that unless I could be accommodated with a bed there, I would at once return to Blyth. She said, 'I should always be glad to see you, and to give you either bed or anything else, if you would not disagree and dispute so with our master.' I replied, 'It is your master that will disagree and dispute with me. I should be quiet enough, if he would let me alone. I never force my opinions on him; it is only when he attempts to force his opinions on me that I ever speak. You must yourself have seen that he will neither allow me to be silent, nor allow me quietly to speak my mind; that he will oblige me to speak, and yet always finds fault if I say anything at variance with what he says.' She acknowledged that her husband was rather queer in that respect, but still thought that I might manage a great deal better with him if I would. I told her I had done my best, and that it was all to no purpose. 'He will ask my opinion,' said I, 'on every subject that comes into his head, and then begin to complain whenever my opinion happens to differ from his.' I also added, that I thought he sometimes disputed with me merely for the sake of disputing, and contradicted me, not because he thought I was wrong, but because he thought that it would be too much of a compliment to acknowledge that he agreed with me on any subject. She thought I was too severe upon him. I said, 'Well, just wait and see to-night, and if it is not as I have said, you shall blame me as much as you like, and I will acknowledge myself in error.'

Almost immediately Mr. Snowdon came in. 'What are you doing here to-night?' said he. 'I have come to sleep here,' I replied, 'and more than that, I must sleep here, or else return to Blyth. Mr. G——'s house is closed, and it is too late to seek a bed elsewhere.' He made no objections, and things proceeded as usual. He soon took his Bible, called the family around him, and began to read. The lesson was in Isaiah. He had not read far before he began to explain a passage. 'This,' said he, 'refers to our blessed Lord Jesus Christ. It points out the glory of His character and of His person as the supreme God and Lord of all; exhibits Him as the Maker as well as the Saviour of the world. Do you not think so, Mr. Barker?' said he. I remained silent. 'Is not that your view of the subject, Mr. Barker?' he added. 'I have no objections to offer,' I said. This did not seem exactly to satisfy him; but he went on, and read again. 'And so it is,' said he; 'we are all by nature as an unclean thing; there is no health in us. How deeply we are fallen, Mr. Barker! Do you not think so, Mr. Barker?' I made no reply. He wished to know why I was silent. I said I did not like to be always talking on those matters,—that I would rather he would read on, and allow us to think about the chapter at our leisure afterwards. All this time his wife was dreadfully fidgetty. She wanted to speak to him, but could not. She wished to catch his attention by her looks, but to no purpose. The proof of the truth of what I had said was becoming too strong for her, and she could scarcely sit still on her chair. He proceeded: 'This,' said he, 'refers to the glory of the Church of Christ in the latter days, when the Gentiles shall be converted, and the Jews brought back to their own land. This will be a glorious time, Mr. Barker. What are your views on this subject, Mr. Barker?' Then he added some further remarks, concluding with the question, 'Do you not think so, Mr. Barker?' I now began to laugh: I could hold no longer. 'And do you laugh at God's holy word?' said he: and a terrible lecture he would have read me, had not his wife broke out and said, 'Hinney, you are to blame, you are to blame. You won't let Mr. Barker alone: he would be silent if you would allow him: you are too bad.' He repeated his terrible rebuke of my levity, and I began to explain. I told him what had passed between his wife and me before he came in. I told him all that I thought about his way of proceeding towards me in those matters, and he, poor fellow, was completely confounded. I told him that it seemed to me as if he really took pleasure in tormenting people; as if he could not be happy unless he thought that he was making other people miserable,—that he seemed to begrudge those that were around him the least ease, or quietness, or pleasure, and to wish to keep them on a perpetual rack. It was his time now to explain and apologize, and what do you think was the reason he assigned for his proceedings? 'Hinney,' said he, 'Mr. Barker is a young minister, and I wish to inure him to hardness as a good soldier of our Lord Jesus Christ.' I told him there were painful things enough in the world to inure men to hardness without his making more, &c. After this he never annoyed me much in that way again. He did not allow me to rest altogether; that would have been too much; but he was a vast deal better; and if he ever after this began to be queer, I always felt greater confidence in refusing to talk to him, and in letting him know that I expected to be allowed to have a little of my own way.

I never could persuade myself but that this man was, after all, a good man. I believe he really feared God and loved his fellow-men. I think he was conscientious and benevolent. Among other proofs of his benevolence I may mention, that he took an orphan family under his care, and reared them. He made them work, it is true; he made every one work that was under him; but he fed them, and clothed them, and taught them in his way. He acted, in short, like a father to them.

Again, when my mother came over to see me at Newcastle, he invited her to his house. He showed her every possible attention. He was as kind as it was possible for a man to be. And when she had to leave for Leeds, he was up by four or five o'clock in the morning, to provide her a comfortable breakfast, and take her to the coach. But I observed that he was always kinder to old people than to young people. I suppose he thought that old people had had trouble enough, and that he had therefore no need to give them more; but that young people were in danger of being too happy, of having too little trouble, and that it was necessary therefore that he should be their tormentor. But even to the young he could be kind on occasions, very kind; and if the young showed a disposition to meet his views, to receive his sayings as oracles, and always to consult his will, he would even caress and commend them. But he could receive no measured or limited subjection. They must neither think, nor speak, nor smile, nor stir but in accordance with his will if they wished to enjoy his favor. The least imaginable opposition to his judgment or his pleasure, would draw forth his rebukes.

There were laymen in almost all places who took upon themselves to tell you what you should believe and teach, and to condemn you as a heretic if you did not attend to their suggestions.

24. In 1837, shortly after I was stationed in Mossley, I had a public discussion with a clergyman on the propriety or lawfulness of teaching the children of the poor to write in our Sunday-schools. The New Connexion people in the Mossley circuit taught writing in their Sunday-schools, and they had, in consequence, a very large attendance of scholars, and very prosperous churches. Their scholars outnumbered those of all the other schools put together. This seemed to annoy the ministers of the other denominations, and it was no uncommon thing for those ministers, when they came to preach the yearly sermons in behalf of the funds of their Schools, to say strong things against the practice of the New Connexion. Dr. Nunn, of the Established Church, contended that it was Sabbath-breaking, and challenged the New Connexion officials to a public discussion on the subject. They accepted the challenge, and appointed me their champion. I contended, that in the circumstances in which the children of the poor were placed at that time, it was an act of mercy and Christian beneficence to teach them to write on Sundays. The clergyman gave up the contest before the time allowed for the debate came to a close, and I was proclaimed victor. I published my views on the subject in a pamphlet, entitled MERCY TRIUMPHANT, which had an extensive circulation, and produced a powerful effect on the views of large numbers of people. Some of my brethren denounced the pamphlet as heretical, and the editor of the Magazine took occasion to inform his readers, in an offensive way, that my views were not the views of the body to which I belonged.

25. In the Sheffield circuit I had several unpleasant collisions with one of my colleagues, and a couple of superannuated ministers, about a rich but very unworthy member there. This man was anxious to control the action of the whole circuit, and even of the whole Connexion, and one of my colleagues, and the two superannuated ministers, one of which was Mr. Allin, my old and persistent opponent, took his part. I had myself no faith in the man. I knew him to be both an ignorant and unworthy person. He was, in fact, a drunkard. Both he and Mr. Allin once, after having spent the day at a public feast, came into an official meeting drunk in the evening. I was present, and saw the horrible sight. It afterwards came out that this rude, ambitious man was something worse than a drunkard. I did what I could to avoid an open rupture with my colleagues and this man's friends, and succeeded for a time, but they obliged me at last, either to sanction what I felt to be wrong, or openly to protest against their proceedings. I protested. And now the unsubstantial peace which had existed between us for a time was followed by a very unhappy rupture, which left deep and angry wounds in the hearts of all the contending parties.

26. But to give all the incidents which proved the occasion of bitter feeling and alienation between me and a number of my brethren would require a book. They were happening almost continually. When once people have ceased to regard each other with love and confidence, they can neither speak nor stir without giving each other offence. And this was the state to which I and several of my brethren had come. Indeed such was the unhappy state of our feelings, that we had ceased to take pleasure in pleasing, and had come almost to take delight in trying one another. Instead of coming as near together as we could, we got as far as possible apart. We came at length to feel a kind of gratification in finding what appeared good reasons for differing from one another. The consequence was, we came to differ from each other so much, that it became impossible for us to work together to any advantage.

And there was no one with wisdom and piety sufficient to interpose and heal the breach, or even to prevent it from getting continually wider. The gentleman who had acted as mediator and moderator when my article on Toleration and Human Creeds was arraigned, and who had also brought about the temporary settlement of a more serious dispute at the Conference following, now found the case beyond his powers, and made no further attempts at reconciliation. He saw it necessary, if he would retain his influence in the Body, to become a partizan, instead of a mediator, and he chose the side of my opponents. There were two other men—two of the oldest and ablest of our ministers—and two of the most exemplary Christians in the Body—who saw the danger of the tempest that was raging against me, and who would have been glad to screen me from its violence, but they were afraid to interpose. They loved me and esteemed me, and sympathized with me in many of my views; but to have attempted to save me from the fury of my opponents, would have been to risk their own reputation and position. One of them had already suffered in consequence of the freedom with which he had expressed his views on certain anti-christian doctrines, though he had written with far more caution, and acted with much more prudence, than I had done; and he no doubt felt, that if he could not, without so much difficulty, save himself, it would be vain to attempt to save another, who had spoken and written with so much more freedom, and acted with so much more independence. So the storm was left to rage and spend its fury on my own head.

I cannot give an account of all that followed during the last two years which I spent in connection with the Church; it would make my story too long. But things got worse and worse as time passed on.

In 1840 I brought my Evangelical Reformer to a close. In the last number I declared my unchanged belief in the sentiments set forth in my article on "Toleration, Human Creeds, &c." I also contradicted the reports that had been spread abroad by my enemies, to the effect that I had, at the preceding Conference, retracted certain expressions used in my writings with regard to justification, the witness of the Spirit, &c.; and censured the conduct of the ruling party in my case in very plain terms. I said, "If any of my opponents imagine that I have recanted a single sentence that I have published in this work, they are under some misapprehension. There is not a doctrine that I have inculcated in it that I do not still maintain. And I declare my full conviction that the resolutions which were passed in reference to me by the Ashton and Huddersfield Conferences were based in error, and that the proceedings of my opponents in this matter were uncalled for and unchristian."

My enemies at once decided on my expulsion. Their purpose was to cast me out at the following Conference, and Mr. Allin published a small tract in reply to my article on Human Creeds, to prepare the minds of the people for the intended measure. He published it just before Conference, when he supposed it would be impossible for me to prepare a reply before the Body assembled. I never saw it till the evening of Thursday, the day but one before that on which I was to leave home for the distant place where the Conference was to meet. But I wrote a reply the same night, and got it printed, and in less than twenty-four hours it was circulating in every direction. I had been able to show that my opponent's arguments proved just the contrary of what they were brought forward to prove. I also showed that the views advocated in my article were the views of Mr. Kilham, the founder of the Body to which we all belonged, and were, in fact, the views of some of the best and ablest men that the Church universal had ever produced. I gave quite a multitude of quotations justifying my article to the very letter. The effect was astounding. The people saw at once that I was right. My enemies were confounded. They were paralyzed. And I was saved.

But it was only for a time. The contest had lasted so long, and had produced such a fearful amount of unhappy feeling between me and my opponents, that reconciliation and comfortable co-operation had become impossible. It could not be expected that a powerful party would rest content under a defeat; and it was not in me to give up my efforts to bring about a better state of things in the Connexion. And hence a renewal of the unhappy strife.

It is natural to suppose that my enemies would now be anxious to get rid of me, and would watch for a suitable occasion to cast me out; and my ideas of duty were such, that it was impossible for me long to refrain from giving them the opportunity they desired. I did it as follows.

1. The early churches provided for their poor members. The Quakers, the Moravians, and the early Methodists did the same. This exercise of brotherly love is enjoined by Christ and His Apostles. I urged this duty on the church to which I belonged. I preached and published a sermon on the subject, and circulated a number of tracts on the same point, published by others.

2. The travelling preachers had a Fund, called the Beneficent Fund, for the support of superannuated preachers and preachers' widows. Some of the rules of this fund seemed to me to be anti-christian, and I labored to get them altered. I also recommended that there should be a fund for worn-out and needy local preachers.

3. Members of the churches mingled with drunkards, profligates, and infidels, in benefit societies, and many other associations. This seemed to me to be very objectionable, and plainly unscriptural, and I recommended that they should come out from such societies, and form associations for good objects among themselves.

4. Wesley had provided cheap books and pamphlets for his societies, and I urged the Conference to do the same for ours. I wrote letters to the Annual Committee, the representatives of the Connexion, showing that books published at eight or ten shillings a volume, could be supplied at one or one and sixpence. I reminded them of the fact that the Book-room had abundance of spare capital which might be profitably used in such a work, and I pointed out the advantages likely to result from the encouragement of thoughtful and studious habits among the people. I published a pamphlet on the subject, entitled The Church and the Press, showing that the churches might almost monopolize the supply of books, and become the teachers and the rulers of the nations, I said, "If the Church at large would do its duty, every dark place on earth might be visited, and the seeds of truth and righteousness sown in every part of the globe in a few years." With regard to our own Connexion I said, "Our Magazine and Book-room, which ought to be promoting the intellectual and religious improvement of the Connexion and the world, are doing just nothing at all, or next to nothing. The leading articles of the Magazine are among the dullest and most useless things ever printed. The Book-room, which has capital enough to publish thirty or forty new books a year, does not issue one. An institution which ought to be filling the Connexion and the country generally with the light and blessings of Christianity, and which is capable of being made a blessing to the world at large, is allowed to 'stand there all the day idle.'"

I then proposed, as a means of stimulating the Book Committee and the Editor of the Magazine to greater activity, that I and my friends should be allowed to publish a periodical, and to establish a Book-room, at our own expense. The proposal was not only rejected, but even treated as a capital offence.

5. I had labored hard against the infidel socialists, lecturing against them in almost all the large towns in the kingdom, and I was, to a great extent, the means of breaking up their societies. But my contests with those infidels made me more sensible of the necessity of abandoning all human additions to Christ's doctrine, and of having nothing to defend but the beautiful and beneficent principles of pure unadulterated Christianity. Hence I became still less of a sectarian in my belief, and more and more of a simple Christian, and I labored to promote a stricter conformity to the teachings of Christ among ministers and Christians generally.

6. I wrote against the waste of God's money by professing Christians in luxurious living and vain show, and exhorted the rich to employ their surplus wealth in doing good.

7. That it might not be said that I received pay from the church for doing one kind of work while I employed a portion of my time in doing others, I gave up my salary, and refused to receive anything from the circuit in which I was stationed, except what was given me as a free-will offering.

8. I withdrew from the preachers' benefit society, resolved, in case of sickness or old age, to trust for a supply of my wants to the providence of God.

9. I recommended the Connexion to pay off all the chapel debts, and prepare itself for more vigorous and extensive aggressions on the kingdom of darkness.

All these things increased the anxiety of my opponents to get me out of the ministry; but they would probably have failed to give them the power to accomplish their object, if I had gone no farther. But I believed it my duty to take another step.

10. It was the custom in the Body to which I belonged, to baptize children in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. This form of words was understood by me to imply that infant baptism was commanded by God in Scripture. This, however, I doubted, and I declined to use the words when naming or baptizing children. I had no objection to name children, to pray for them, or even to sprinkle them; but I could not use an expression in a sense in which I did not think it strictly true. This emboldened my enemies to attempt my expulsion without more ado, and this time they adopted measures calculated to ensure success. They issued circulars on the subject to the ministers and to the leading and influential laymen. They called secret meetings. They employed a variety of means which seemed to me and my friends to savor more of Popish tyranny than of Christian discipline. At length Conference came, and I was called to account. The charges against me were—

1. That I had denied the divine appointment of baptism, and refused to administer the ordinance.

2. That I had denied the divine appointment and present obligation of the Lord's supper.

3. That I had declared myself opposed to the beneficent fund.

4. That I had announced the formation of a book establishment, thereby engaging in worldly pursuits, contrary to rule, and by this means opposing the best interests of the Book-room.

None of those charges were true. 1. What I proposed to do with regard to the supply of books, was no more worldly business than preaching was, or selling the publications of the Connexion. The object was not profit, but extended usefulness. 2. I had not declared myself opposed to the Beneficent Fund, but had simply proposed the improvement of its rules, and the extension of its operations. 3. I had not denied either the divine appointment or present obligation of the Lord's supper. 4. Nor had I denied the divine appointment of baptism, but only declared my belief that water baptism, though a becoming rite under the Christian dispensation, was the baptism of John, and absolutely binding only under his intermediate dispensation.

The two latter charges were not pressed, and even the second was speedily given up, the one on baptism only remaining. This was pressed, and as my views on the subject were deemed intolerable, I was expelled.

There was a fearful display of bad feeling on the part of many of my opponents. And no little pressure was brought to bear on those who were opposed to extreme measures. It was a time of terrible trial to those who showed themselves my friends. The height to which the excitement against me rose can hardly be made intelligible to my readers of the present day. I regarded the proceedings of my opponents from beginning to end as dishonorable, unjust and cruel. "They have gone," said I, in my account of the proceedings of the Conference, "they have gone in opposition to every dictate both of equity and charity. The principles on which they have acted are the low, the dark, and the tyrannical principles of Popery. They have covered themselves with dishonor, and earned for themselves a name for injustice, intolerance and cruelty, beyond all the religious denominations in the land. Many a time, as I sat in my place in Conference, hearing what was said, and observing what was done, I asked myself, 'Is this like Christ? Can this be pleasing to God? What must angels think to look upon a scene like this? Perpetual talk about the authority of Conference and the majesty of the rules; but not a word about the authority of Christ, or the majesty and supremacy of the Gospel. And such overbearing, such harshness, such determined unrelenting cruelty towards all who showed a determination to act according to their own convictions of duty.' In the evenings, after the sittings of Conference were adjourned, I and a friend frequently walked out among the hills surrounding the town, conversing with each other, and with our heavenly Father, and oh! what a contrast! What a boundless contrast between the atmosphere of Conference, and the atmosphere of those sweet hills! What an infinite relief to be placed beyond the sound of angry strife, and jealous, persecuting rage; to walk at large over the lofty hills, to breathe the fresh air of heaven, to converse with God, to look upon His wondrous works, to hear the sweet music of the birds, to trace the silent path of the shadowy woods, or to stand on the exposed, uncovered peaks of the mountain tops, and cast one's eyes on fruitful vales, and quiet homes, and all that earth can show of grand and beautiful, and most of all, to see in every sight the hand of God—to hear in every sound His voice,—to feel that the Great, Almighty, Unseen Spirit of the Universe, that lived and worked through all, was our Father and our love,—to feel that we were one with Him, and that He was one with us. 'This is heaven,' I cried; and, pointing to the scene of strife and hate that lurked below, I added, 'That is hell.' Never before did we understand why Jesus, after having spent the day in crowds, and being harassed with the captious, cruel, persecuting Scribes and Pharisees, retired at night into the desert, or withdrew to the mountains. Never before did the Gospel seem so true a story. Never before were we brought into such living sympathy with the Saviour of mankind. I can recollect nothing I ever met with so trying as to sit in Conference; but in our walks upon the high places, God made up for all." "Well," I added, "I thank God I am now free. My Conference trials are ended. O never more may I be found shut up with men who set at nought the authority of Christ, and who, by all the cruel acts of unrelenting persecution, strive to bend the immortal godlike mind into unnatural subjection to their ambitious will."



CHAPTER XI.

EXPLANATIONS.

A few explanations are required before we go further.

Explanation First. The Different Methodist Bodies.

The Methodist Body to which my parents belonged, and to which I myself belonged till I was twenty-one years of age, was the Old Connexion or Wesleyan Body. I was a local preacher in that Body, and was expected and requested to go out as a travelling preacher. But insurmountable difficulties lay in the way. In the first place, none could be received as travelling preachers, unless they were willing to go to whatever part of the world the conference or the missionary committee might think fit to send them, and unless they could express their willingness to be so disposed of before they went out. This I could not do. It was my conviction that God had called me to labor in my own country, and to do good amongst my own people. I did not believe myself called to go to any foreign country to preach the gospel, and I did not therefore feel at liberty to offer to go out on the terms required. I felt as if I should do wrong to expose myself to unseen dangers and unknown trials and difficulties in foreign lands, without a conviction that God required it at my hands. And I could not think that I should be likely to succeed in missionary labors, unless I could enter on them with a belief that those were the labors for which God designed me.

There was another difficulty. Conference had made a new law, establishing a new test of orthodoxy, and no one could be taken out as a travelling preacher now, who could not subscribe to the doctrine of the Eternal Sonship, as taught by Richard Watson and Jabez Bunting, in opposition to Adam Clarke. This test I could not subscribe. I cannot say that I altogether disbelieved the doctrine of the Eternal Sonship; but I was not in a state of mind to justify me in subscribing the doctrine. Whether the doctrine of the Eternal Sonship was right or not, I had not a firm belief in it: and that was reason enough why I should refuse to subscribe it.

About this time Conference passed laws forbidding the teaching of writing in all the Sunday Schools. I disapproved of these laws, and was unable to bind myself to enforce them. I was obliged therefore to give up all thoughts of becoming a travelling preacher in the Old Connexion.

Not long after this, disturbances took place in the Methodist society in Leeds, respecting the introduction of an organ into Brunswick Chapel. Conference, through the importunities of some rich people, had broken through its own laws, and given authority for the introduction of an organ into Brunswick Chapel contrary to the wishes of a great part of the members, trustees, local preachers, and leaders. I of coarse disapproved of this proceeding on the part of Conference. I had heard the Rev. Joseph Suttcliffe speak very seriously and with great and sorrowful dissatisfaction of the proceedings of those who were then at the head of Methodistical affairs, and though I did not, at the time, rightly understand him, events that took place afterwards, both brought his words to my mind, and showed me their meaning. In consequence of what I saw, I began to be greatly dissatisfied with the manner in which things were carried on in the society.

A division took place in Leeds, and in several other places, and the seceders formed a new body, called the Protestant Methodists. I left the old Body at the same time, but having heard favorable accounts of the Methodist New Connexion, I joined that community. This Body had seceded from the Old Connexion some thirty years before, under the Leadership of Alexander Kilham. Kilham was a great reformer both in religion and politics. He sympathized with the French revolutionists, and with the English religious Latitudinarians. He was a great admirer of Robert Robinson of Cambridge, and reprinted, in his periodical, the Methodist Monitor, his writings on religious liberty. He denounced all human creeds, and proclaimed the Bible the one sole authority in the church both in matters of doctrine and matters of duty. The conference of the Body was to consist of one-half preachers and the other half laymen. In the circuit and society meetings the power was to be divided in the same way. A list of doctrines generally held in the Body was afterwards drawn up and published, but was not put forward as an authoritative creed. The writings of Wesley and Fletcher were referred to, but not as authorities, but only as works to be consulted. I found on looking through the rules, that there was nothing to hinder me from becoming a travelling preacher in this Body. I offered myself as a member, and was received. I was then sent out as a travelling preacher; and it is to this Body chiefly that I refer in this work.

I entered the ministry with the full understanding that I should have perfect Christian liberty both of thought and speech,—that nothing was required of any minister but a belief in the New Testament, a life in accordance with its teachings, and the abilities necessary to fit him for his work. The perfection of the Scriptures, both as a rule of faith and a rule of life, was one of the first articles in the connexional list of doctrines, and each preacher was left to interpret the Scriptures for himself.

To show that the liberty I took in revising my creed was in full agreement with the principles on which the Body to which I belonged was founded, I will give a quotation or two from the Founder's works.

"Subscription to all human creeds implies two dispositions contrary to true religion, love of dominion over conscience in the imposer, and slavery in the subscribers. The first usurps the right of Christ; the last implies allegiance to a pretender." Vol. I, page 77.

"The revelation itself is infallible, and the Author of it has given it me to examine; but the establishment of a given meaning of it renders examination needless, and perhaps dangerous." P. 78.

"I have no patience with those who cover their own stupidity, pride, or laziness, with a pretended acquiescence in the unexamined opinions of men who very probably never examined their own opinions themselves, but professed those which lay nearest at hand, and which best suited their base secular interest." Vol. II, p. 340.

"I am seriously of opinion, and I wish all my readers would seriously consider it, that real Christianity will never thoroughly prevail and flourish in the world, till the professors of it are brought to be upon better terms with one another; lay aside their mutual jealousies and animosities, and live as brethren in sincere harmony and love; but which will, I apprehend, never be, till conscience is left entirely free; and the plain BIBLE become in FACT, as it is in PROFESSION, the ONLY rule of their religious faith and practice." P. 271.

Such were the sentiments which Alexander Kilham thought proper to publish on the subject of creeds.

He adds, that he did so for the purpose of "giving to our people and others suitable views of religious liberty in general, AND OF WHAT OUGHT TO BE ESTABLISHED AMONG US IN PARTICULAR."

In all I did, then, both in endeavoring to bring my views into harmony with the teachings of Christ, and in suggesting reforms in the laws and institutions of the Body, I acted in perfect accordance with the principles on which the Connexion was founded. Whether the principle was a good one or not may be questioned: all I say is, it sanctioned my course.

Explanation Second. Immoralities.

What I say of immoralities in ministers and members of the Church refers chiefly to ministers and members of the New Connexion. I must not however be understood as saying that the ministers and members of the Old Connexion were free from such vices. They were not. James Etchells, the minister who drank sixteen glasses of intoxicating drinks on one round of pastoral calls, and John Farrar, his superintendent, whom he got suspended for drunkenness, and Richard Wilson, who opened the first spirit shop in my native town, and corrupted the people all round the country, and Timothy Bentley, the great Brewer and Poisoner-General of the bodies and souls of the Yorkshire people, and John Falkener, of New Castle-on-Tyne, the wholesale Beershop-Keeper, &c., were all members and high officials in the Wesleyan Body. And I never heard of a man being either kept out or put out of the Wesleyan Connexion either for being a Brewer, a Distiller, a Spirit Merchant, a Ginshop Keeper, a Publican, a Pawnbroker, or a Beershop-keeper. And I never heard of the Conference doing anything to promote teetotalism, or the suppression of the liquor trade. The rules and teachings of Wesley, and the principles of Christ on this subject, were as little cared for in the Old as in the New Connexion.

There were points though in which the Old Connexion seemed to me superior to the New. There seemed more hearty religiousness in the Old Connexion than in the New. The preachers in the Old Connexion seemed to be a higher order of men, both in piety and intelligence. They seemed to be kinder too to each other, less jealous, less envious, and less disposed to annoy and persecute one another. And they worked harder. They had more of the spirit of Wesley. They were less anxious to steal sheep from other folds, and more disposed to go out into the wilderness to bring in those which were astray. With many of the New Connexion members religion was too much of a form and a name: with an immense number in the Old Connexion it was a life and a power. Hence the Old Connexion prospered, while the New Connexion languished and declined. The New Connexion trusted to their democratic principles of church government for additions, and were disappointed. The Old Connexion trusted to honest, zealous, Christian work, and succeeded. The Old Connexion, bred great and mighty men, the New Connexion bred weak and little ones. The New Connexion was afraid of superior men, and if any made their appearance, drove them away, as in the case of Richard Watson and others; the Old Connexion welcomed such men, and used them, and reaped from their labors rich harvests of blessing. I might myself perhaps, if my way into its ministry had not been blocked up, have been much more happy and useful in the Old Connexion than in the New, and have had a very different story to tell in my old age, from that which I am telling you now. I don't know.

No; I don't know. It is quite possible that I was so formed,—that religious freedom was so essential to the soul God had given me,—that I should have broken through the enclosures of any sect, and made for myself a history like that which I am now writing. But speculations on such subjects are all vain. A man can live but once, and in one way, and all we can do now is to live well for the future,—as well as we can. God help us.

God will help us. And we must not suppose that because we have not had the lot which imagination pictures as most desirable, we have lived in vain. Let us look on matters in a more cheerful light. The world, and all our affairs, are in the hands of an all-perfect God, and always have been, and I am inclined to believe, that with regard to myself, He has done all things well. I meant to do right from the first. I never wickedly departed from God. I erred unintentionally and unexpectedly. I erred seeking for the truth. I erred praying to God to lead me right. And I am inclined to believe that my course was not entirely of myself, but was a discipline appointed me by a higher power, and meant to further some desirable end. So I will go on hoping and rejoicing, interpreting God's doings as favorably as I can, and believing, that what I know not now, I shall know hereafter. And all the time I will rejoice in God's love, and sing Glory, Hallelujah.

Explanation Third. Christianity and Methodism not to Blame.

Do not let any one judge of Christianity or Methodism, nor even of the whole body of the Methodist Church, from the cases of immorality which I have found it necessary to name. Christianity and real Wesleyan Methodism are as opposed to bad trades and bad deeds as light is to darkness. And bad as things were in the churches to which I have referred, a large portion, if not the great bulk of the members, were sincere Christians, fearing God and working righteousness. Nor were all the preachers bad-hearted or cruel men. It often happens that a few control the many. And the ruling few are often worse than the many whom they rule. The least worthy members of the church are often, like Diotrephes, eager for the pre-eminence, while the best are modest and retiring. It is not always the cream that comes to the top, either in civil or religious society; it is sometimes the scum. And my readers must take these things into account while reading my story. The early Methodist churches were blessed organizations, bitterly as Wesley and Fletcher lamented their shortcomings and backslidings. With all their faults they were the lights of the world, and the salt of the earth. They are so still. They were so in the days of which I write. And the same may be said of other churches. They fall very far short of the perfection of Christian knowledge and holiness, but they are as far in advance of a godless world, as Christianity is in advance of them. I think it no objection to Christians or to Christian churches that they do not at once embody and exemplify Christian truth and virtue in all their fullness, any more than I think it an objection to men of science and scientific associations that they do not know and set forth all the laws of the material universe. Men are finite, while Nature and Christianity are infinite. Christianity will always be ahead of churches, and nature will always be ahead of science, as God will always be ahead of man. I would have churches and ministers improve, and I would tell them of their faults and shortcomings that they may see where improvement is wanted, but I would not on any account do them injustice, or give countenance to the infidel slander that the church is worse than the godless world, or a twentieth part as bad.

And though I would explain how unhappily I was influenced by the errors and misdoings of my brethren, that I may make my apostacy from Christ intelligible, I have no desire to make the impression that all with whom I came in uncomfortable collision were great sinners, while I was a meek and faultless saint. I know the contrary. There were errors and failings on both sides. I may sometimes think 'I was more sinned against than sinning,' but at other times I am ashamed and confounded at my great and grievous errors. God forgive me. I was dreadfully tried at times by my brethren; but my brethren were tried by me at other times past all endurance. God only knows which was most to blame; but I was bad enough. If either I or my brethren had been as wise and good as men should strive to be, both they and I might have had a very different story to tell; a story much more agreeable to our readers and much more creditable to ourselves. But the past is past, and my brethren, most of them, have gone to judgment, and I am hastening after; and it behooves me to tell as fair a story, and to tell it in as meek and lowly and loving a spirit as possible. And I here declare, that if any expression of bitterness, or any statement savoring of harshness or injustice, escapes my lips, I wish it softened, and brought into harmony with perfect truth and charity.

It is very difficult, when a man is giving an account of his life, to be strictly just and impartial. Perhaps it is impossible. It is very difficult, when he is telling of his trials, to keep from all expressions of strong and unpleasant feeling towards those whom he regards as the causes of his trials. Perhaps this also is impossible. My readers must consider this, and make allowances both for me and my brethren.

And both my readers and I must try to bear in mind, that men are not the sole actors in the pitiable blunders and melancholy tragedies of their lives. God had to do with the descent of Joseph into Egypt. His brethren were the visible actors, but a Great Invisible Actor directed and controlled their doings. Our ignorance and our vices are our own, but the form they take in action, and the effects they produce, are God's. Shimei's wickedness was his own, but it was God that caused it to show itself in throwing stones at David. All our trials are, in truth, from God, and it would be well for us to regard them in that light. And we ought no more to be malignantly resentful towards the men whom God makes use of to try us, than we ought to murmur against God. We should try to go through all with the meek and quiet spirit with which Jesus went through the still greater trials that lay in His path. And in speaking of our trials, we should try to exhibit the sweet forgiving temper that shines out so gloriously in the life and death of the Redeemer. And if we can go a step farther, and rejoice in tribulation, and smile in peaceful tranquility at the erring but divinely guided actors in our trials, so much the better. And if we can believe that all things work together for good not only to them that love God, but even to those who for a time are unwittingly separated from God, why should we not 'rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks?' My gracious God, I know that there are expressions in this book that might have been better,—that feelings sometimes show themselves that are not the perfection of Christian love and meekness; and I ask Thee in Thy mercy to forgive them all: And I pray Thee so to influence my soul for the time to come, and to enable me so to use my tongue and pen, that all I say and write may savor of Jesus, be in agreement with my Christian profession, and tend to the instruction and spiritual improvement of my hearers and readers.

Explanation Fourth. My Own Defects.

My character was very defective in my early days. I have felt this a hundred times while I have been writing and revising the foregoing pages. I was wanting in humility. There were some kinds of pride from which I was probably free; but there were others of which I had more than my share. And I was lacking in meekness. I could control myself and keep quite calm in a public debate; but could be angry and resentful in other cases. I was not sufficiently forbearing. I was not sufficiently forgiving.

And I was too critical, too pugnacious, too controversial. I was too much in the habit of looking for defects in what I heard and read; defects in style; errors in thought; mistakes in reasoning; faults in arrangement; and improprieties in manner and spirit.

Considering that I was to a great extent self-taught, that much that I learned I learned after I had become almost a man, this perhaps was natural; but it was a disadvantage. It would have been better if I had sought only for the true, the good, the beautiful in what I heard, and read, and saw. I ought, perhaps, instead of exercising my critical powers on others, to have contented myself with exercising them on my own character and performances, and with endeavoring in all things to set an example of what was worthy of imitation. It may be that I was naturally, constitutionally critical; but that does not make it right or wise. I ought to have warred with my constitutional propensities, and to have kept my critical tendencies within the bounds of prudence and charity.

But this wisdom was too high for me in my early days, and I fear that while I was pressing attention to practical matters on others, I was myself too much busied in doctrinal matters. I was too zealous against certain doctrines while rebuking others for being too zealous for them. While they were too doctrinal and controversial positively, I was too doctrinal and controversial negatively. They erred in going too far; I was too zealous in pushing them back.

In many things my enemies were wrong: but there were other things in which I was not right. They were very foolish; and I was far from wise. I see it, I feel it all, and I lament it too. And still I feel the remains of my old defects and vices clinging to me. I have still great need of the mercy of God, and of the forbearance and kind consideration of my brethren. God help me, if it be not too late, to improve both in wisdom and in Christian virtue. My Gracious God, it is Thy wish that Thy people 'should be conformed to the image of Thy Son, that He might be the first-born among many brethren.' Oh, if I could but approach that point, and be worthy to take some humble place as a brother of that glorious embodiment of all moral and spiritual excellence, what would I not give,—what would I not do! If it be possible,