I crept out of the church, as if I had stolen something. Ashamed to look anybody in the face, I hastened through the town, and with difficulty refrained from roaring aloud, like a bear, as I passed through it. I thought that everybody gazed and pointed at me.

On my way home, the moment I got into the fields, where no human eye could see, and no human ear could hear me, I fell upon my knees, and with all my power of body and soul, cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner." How often I repeated the publican's prayer, I know not; but, when I arose from my knees, I went on wringing my hands, sobbing, and exclaiming, "O fool that I have been! How often would God have saved me, but I would not! Now it is all over for ever and ever! O! the dreadfulness of appearing before that God that will not be mocked is past describing." When I passed a public-house, I durst not even turn my eyes to look at it, much less enter it, to enjoy the pleasure I had anticipated upon leaving home. All the dreadful things I had been guilty of in these wretched houses arose before my poor soul, like an army in battle. "O!" cried I, "cursed place, cursed place; thou hast ruined my soul for ever! O that I had but kept my vows! O what shall I do? whither can I flee? how can I stand to hear the awful sentence? 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.""

Upon reaching home, my poor wife was surprised to see me returned so early. She wondered at my being so quiet, and asked what was the matter. I told her I was very unwell, and did all I could to hide the grief of my soul. But concealment for any length of time was impossible. So great was my misery, and such fast hold had it of me, that at every opportunity I could get by myself, I was upon my knees, crying, "God be merciful to me a sinner;" sometimes repeating the cry until my very breath failed me. She soon, therefore, perceived that something had happened, and charged me with having turned Methodist. I told her that I knew not what I had turned; but this I did know, that I was one of the vilest sinners upon earth, and that if I did not mend my ways, repent, and find mercy, I was

as sure of going to hell as that I had been born; and that I would turn anything, if I could but thereby save my poor soul. For, as yet, I could think of no other way of my poor soul's being saved, but by mending my life, doing my duty, and pleasing God. On the next Lord's day morning, I set off for Bolton, to hear the same minister, whom I afterwards understood to be a Mr. Jones. O with what earnestness did I pray and beg all the way, that he might tell me what to do that I might be saved. But instead of this, he cut me up to all intents and purposes, and declared that all those who were working for life were under the law, and therefore under its curse. Thus, during the whole day, I could hear of no encouragement, save to God's own people; and I returned as miserable as ever. O what a journey I had home; sometimes wringing my hands, and crying with bitter lamentations, "O that I had never been born! O, my poor soul, thou art lost for ever! O, my place will be with devils and damned souls for ever and ever!" How I reached home the Lord only knows, but when I did, my wife asked me how I was. "O," cried I, "worse than ever! it is all over with me! there is no hope but for God's people!" She told me I should go no more to hear that man, for he would be sure to drive me mad, and I should be taken to the mad-house, which I, indeed, began to fear would really be the case. I therefore thought I would try to put away the thoughts I had of death and eternity; and tried to compose my mind as well as I could, consoling myself with the resolution to do the best in my power, and perhaps things would be better than my fears.

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I went, therefore, to bed rather more comfortable, but had not been so long, before that text thundered in my heart and in my ears, 66 The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God." "O!" cried my soul, that is I, that is I. I am the wicked wretch who has forgotten God, mocked God, abused God, despised God. O! my poor, ruined, lost soul, thou wilt be turned into hell with all the nations that forget God." O the dreadful feelings I experienced! I actually thought that the devil was then coming to

fetch me, body and soul together. O! how my inmost soul did cry to God, that he would spare me but for that night. How often did I promise that I would do all that ever I could to please him, and entreated, with tears, that he would not let the devil fetch me that night. And I thought the Lord heard me, for I felt more composed, and shortly dropped asleep. Upon awaking in the morning, what thankfulness I felt to God that he had spared me, and that I was not in hell. And who can tell, thought I, but God may yet have mercy on so vile a wretch, who has gone to such lengths in sin against him, and yet been spared to the present moment. I did indeed pray with all my soul and strength, that he would forgive all my past sins, and I promised that I would, for the future, live a holy life, and do every thing in my power to please him, and honour him all my days. Indeed, for several days after this, I went on pretty comfortable. O the fear I had of sinning; for I thought that, if I could but keep from sin, God would, perhaps, pardon me what was past in his own time. And so determined was I to dishonour God no more, that I went into a secret place, where no eye but God's could see me, and vowed with all my might to leave all the world and turn to the Lord, and be his, and called upon him to be witness of my sincerity. But alas! alas! what is all our fleshly sincerity? The first blast from the devil blows it like chaff before the wind. I had been in the habit, for many years, of card-playing. What shall I do, thought I, when Saturday night comes; I am engaged to play a few games at the card table, but I will not go, and they will not come for me. On Saturday night, however, my partner at the card table called for me, and, saying it was near the appointed time, asked if I was ready. What shall I do? thought I. If I refuse, they will call me a Methodist, and spread that report all over the parish. I will go just this once, and then tell them I intend to go no more. With this determination I went off. But O the misery that came upon me, as if I had been going to the gallows. But the fear of being called religious, and a Methodist, so overcame me, that I entered the house, and sat down with the rest at the table.

When we each had our cards dealt out, and I had just taken mine, oh, how my own guilt stared me in the face! How did conscience thunder in my ears that I had broken the vows which I had called upon God to witness! and the old text, too, came like a thunderclap that shook both body and soul: "Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap." I was so confused and confounded, that I knew not what I was doing, and could no more tell which card to throw down, than if I had never seen one in my life. In short, I entirely lost the game, which so enraged my partner, that he called me the greatest fool he had ever seen, and the others heartily laughed at me. Poor things! they little knew what I had to grapple with within. I made the best I could of the matter; and, to prevent their knowing the real cause, I said that I was very poorly, and must go home. Thus speaking, I took my hat without ceremony, and it being dark, went into the fields, where no human eye could see me. It was a very dark night, and, O the awful feelings of my heart. I thought of my vows, and my breaking of them; of the dreadful majesty of that God whom I had mocked a thousand times; and of the horrible certainty of fast-approaching death. And then those dreadful words came to my mind, "Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of 'my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh." (Prov. i. 24, 25, 26.) They made my very hair to stand on my head, and my poor soul so to tremble, that I feared I was dropping into hell every moment. My very joints were loosened, and what to do, or whither to go, I could not tell. I fell upon my knees and attempted to pray, but that text stopped my mouth in an instant: "The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord." (Prov. xv. 8.) "Then," cried I, "it is all over for ever; for I am the vilest wretch either in hell, or out of hell, and if God will not hear the prayers of a poor, wicked sinner, it is all over for ever and ever." And now all my sins, from a child, came upon me like an

army, with such weight, that they actually pressed both body and soul to the very earth, and there I lay, for a time, with no more strength to stir than a new-born infant, and I believed in my very soul that I was soon to be where hope never comes. But, O the amazing goodness of an abused God! He gave me a little drop of encouragement: "Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." (Matt. vii. 7.) "What can that mean?" exclaimed I; "it can never mean that I am to seek and to find." I arose and looked around, to see if any body was near, who might have spoken these words; but I could neither see nor hear any body; yet the words were again repeated in my soul with more power, "Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened." This so encouraged my poor soul, that I cried again to God to have mercy upon me, and told him that if he would but forgive my sins, I would tell all the world what he had done for me. I then went home, resolved that I would seek night and day for mercy and forgiveness of my sins, until I found it.

I went to bed much encouraged, and rose very early in the morning, blessing the Lord with all my heart that he had spared me another night. After breakfast, I set off for Bolton to hear Mr. Jones, beseeching the Lord, with cries and tears, that I might hear something to comfort my soul. Surely, I thought, this is the time that I shall find him. As I had sought him so earnestly, I quite expected to have had my sins forgiven, and to return home with joy. But O! how was I disappointed! I thought that Mr. Jones preached to none but the elect, and such as had been born again. Then I again sunk into despair, and exclaimed with bitterness of soul, "O, that I were one of the elect. O, that I were one of those who have been born again. O, what shall I do? Whither shall I flee? I have prayed, and I have begged; I have sought, and I have knocked; but I am not born again; I am not one of the elect. O, poor soul, poor soul, thou art lost for ever! it is all over. O, eternity, eternity! How can I dwell with everlasting burnings?"

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O, the miserable journey I had home; nothing but