tion of medical men, and after awhile he thoroughly recovered.

About this time Samuel finding that promotion at Westminster was hopeless, on account of his connexion with a party who were deservedly obnoxious to government, accepted the mastership of Tiverton school. Before he removed so far westward, he went to visit his parents at Epworth, and there his two brothers met him, that the whole family might, for the last time in this world, be gathered together. Among the many solemn circumstances of human life, few can be more solemn than such a meeting.For some years their father had been declining; and he was very solicitous that the cure in which he had laboured faithfully during so long a course of years should be obtained for his son John, if possible, from an anxious desire that the good which he had effected might not be lost through the carelessness of a lukewarm successor; and that his wife and daughters might not be dispossessed of the home wherein the one had lived so long, and the others had been born and bred. Wesley, who had not before thought of such a proposal, gave no opinion upon it now; but in the ensuing year his father pressed him to apply for the next presentation, and Samuel urged him to the same effect. At first he seems to have hesitated how to decide. "I know," says he, writing from Oxford upon the subject, "if I could stand my ground here, and approve myself a faithful minister of our blessed Jesus, by honour and dishonour, through evil report and good report, then there would not be a place under heaven like this for improvement in every good work." An absence of some little time from Oxford had shown how soon the effects of all his exertions might be counteracted. One of his pupils confessed that he was becoming more and more afraid of singularity; another had studied some of Mr. Locke's writings, which had convinced him of the mischief of regarding authority; a third had been converted from fasting by a fever and a physician. The little body of his associates had diminish

ed in number from seven-and-twenty to five. These things made him reflect closely: the ill consequences of his singularity were diminution of fortune, loss of friends and of reputation. "As to my fortune," said he, "I well know, though perhaps others do not, that I could not have borne a larger than I have.— For friends, they were either trifling or serious: if triflers, fare them well, a noble escape; if serious, those who are more serious are left. And as for reputation, though it be a glorious instrument of advancing our Master's service, yet there is a better than that, a clean heart, a single eye, and a soul full of God. A fair exchange, if, by the loss of reputation, we can purchase the lowest degree of purity of heart."

These considerations led to the conclusion, that there was little prospect of doing any lasting good in his present situation; and when the fitness of settling at Epworth, if the succession could be obtained, was pressed upon him, he considered it not so much with reference to his utility, as to his own well-being in spiritual things. The question, as it appeared to him, was not whether he could do more good to others there or at Oxford, but whether he could do more good to himself, seeing that wherever he could be most holy himself, there he could most promote holiness in others; but he could improve himself more at Oxford than at any other place, and at Oxford therefore he determined to remain. This reasoning was well answered by his father; who told him, that even at Oxford he might have promoted holiness much more than he had done, if he had taken the right method, "for there is a particular turn of mind for these matters, great prudence as well as great fervour. I cannot," he said, "allow austerity or fasting, considered by themselves, to be proper acts of holiness, nor am I for a solitary life. God made us for a social life. We are to let our light shine before men, and that not barely through the chinks of a bushel for fear the wind should blow it out: the design of lighting it was, that it might give

light to all who went into the house of God. And to this academical studies are only preparatory." He concluded, with singular force and eloquent earnestness, in these words: "We are not to fix our view on one single point of duty, but to take in the complicated view of all the circumstances in every state of life that offers. Thus is the case before us: put all the circumstances together: if you are not indifferent whether the labours of an aged father, for above forty years in God's vineyard, be lost, and the fences of it trodden down and destroyed;-if you consider that Mr. M. must in all probability succeed me if you do not, and that the prospect of that mighty Nimrod's coming hither shocks my soul, and is in a fair way of bringing down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave;-if you have any care for our family, which must be dismally shattered as soon as I am dropt;-if you reflect on the dear love and longing which this poor people has for you, whereby you will be enabled to do God the more service, and the plenteousness of the harvest, consisting of near two thousand souls, whereas you have not many more souls in the University,-you may perhaps alter your mind, and bend your will to His, who has promised if in all our ways we acknowledge Him, He will direct our paths."

Samuel, when he heard that his brother had declared himself unalterably resolved not to accept the living if he could get it, knew him, as he said, well enough to believe that no one could move his mind, except He who made it. Without, therefore, drawing the saw of controversy, as he called it, he set before him his own example. "I left Oxford," said he, "with all its opportunity of good, on a worldly account, at my father's desire. I left my last settlement by the same determination, and should have thought I sinned both times, if I had not followed it.” And he pressed upon John the simple proposition, that having taken orders, he was solemnly engaged to undertake the cure of souls before God, and his High Priest, and his Church. Wesley replied both

to his father and his brother in a manner more characteristic of the man than creditable to his judgment. He argued as if his own salvation would be rendered impossible at Epworth: he could not, he said, stand his ground there for a month, against intemperance in sleeping, eating, and drinking; his spirit would thus be dissolved; the cares and desires of the world would roll back with a full tide upon him, and while he preached to others, he should be a cast-away himself. Uninterrupted freedom from trifling acquaintance was necessary for him: he dreaded, as the bane of piety, the company of good sort of men, lukewarm Christians, persons that have a great concern for religion, but no sense of it. "They undermine insensibly," says he, "all my resolutions, and quite steal from me the little fervour I have. I never come from among these saints of the world (as John Valdesso calls them) faint, dissipated, and shorn of all my strength, but I say, God deliver me from a half Christian!" Agitur de vitâ et sanguine Turni: the point was, whether he should serve Christ or Belial. He stood in need of persons nearly of his own judgment, and engaged in the same studies; persons who were awakened into a full and lively conviction that they had only one work to do upon earth; who had absolutely devoted themselves to God; who took up their cross daily; who would constantly watch over his soul, and, according to the occasion, administer reproof, advice, or exhortation with all plainness and all gentleness. But this was a blessing which he could enjoy no where but at Oxford. There also he knew none of the cares of the world; he heard of such things, and read of them, but he knew them not: whatever he wanted was

provided for him there, without any expense of thought. There, too, he endured that contempt which is a part of the cross, that every man who would follow his Saviour must bear Every true Christian, he said, is contemned by all who are not so, and who know him to be such: until he be thus contemned no man is in a state of salvation; for

though a man may be despised without being saved, yet he cannot be saved without being despised. More good also, he averred, was to be done to others by his continuance at Oxford; the schools of the prophets were there; was it not a more extensive benefit to sweeten the fountain, than to purify a particular stream? And for the argument, that Epworth was a wider sphere of action, where he would have the charge of two thousand souls, he exclaimed, "Two thousand souls! I see not how any man living can take care of an hundred." If any stress be laid upon the love of the people at Epworth,-"I ask how long will it last? Only till I come to tell them plainly that their deeds are evil, and to make a particular application of that general sentence, to say to each, Thou art the man! Alas, Sir, do I not know what love they had for you at first? And how have they used you since? Why, just as every one will be used whose business it is to bring light to them that love to sit in darkness!" To the concluding part of his father's letter he replied thus: "As for the flock committed to your care, whom for many years you have diligently fed with the sincere milk of the word, I trust in God your labour shall not be in vain, either to yourself or them. Many of them the Great Shepherd has, by your hand, delivered from the hand of the destroyer, some of whom are already entered into peace, and some remain unto this day. For yourself, I doubt not, but when your warfare is accomplished, when you are made perfect through sufferings, you shall come to your grave, not with sorrow, but as a ripe shock of corn, full of years and victories. And He that took care of the poor sheep before you were born, will not forget them when you are dead."

This letter convinced Samuel how unavailing it must needs be to reason further with one who was possessed by such notions. Nevertheless, as John had requested to know his further thoughts, he asked him if all his labours were come to this, that more was absolutely necessary for the very being of his