The work, in the meantime, went on and spread.  Some of the people came over from Mr. —­’s parish to ask me to come and preach to them in a large sail-loft, which they had prepared for the purpose.  My friend would not consent to my going, and I was obliged to give them a refusal.  The next day they sent again, not to ask me to preach, but if I would just come over to visit a sick man who was anxious about his soul.  My friend hesitated at this also.  I said, “Why do you object to my going to see the poor fellow?  You took me to the vicarage to talk to the vicar himself; surely you can let me go and do the same thing to one of his parishioners.”

“No,” he said, “I cannot; that is quite a different thing.”

Seeing that he was unwilling, and that it would displease him, I gave it up, and went to the messengers and said, “I cannot go.”

They were not satisfied, and asked “if the ladies would please to go;” meaning my late dear wife and Mrs. S. (Mary), whom they had seen working in the after-meetings.

My friend did not see any objection to the ladies going, and the men seemed better pleased than if I had gone.  They visited the sick man the next day, and after that were asked “just to come and speak to a few people up here” that was, in the adjoining sail-loft.  On entering the place, to their astonishment, they saw about three hundred people sitting quietly waiting.

“What is this?” asked my wife.

The man said, “I only asked a few, but all those people are come.  Do give them just a word.”  She had never yet ventured on addressing a large company like that, and Mary was shocked at the idea; but still, they were afraid to refuse; so they mounted the carpenter’s bench, which was placed there with two chairs on it; and after a hymn and prayer, Mrs. H. gave an address, which Mary told me afterwards “was far better than anything I ever preached.”  They had an after-meeting, and some conversions, and promised to come over again.  Thus the work spread to another part, and I had to go there also.

Poor Mr. —­ was very excited about this, and said that he “thought it most ungentlemanly.”  I dare say it was, and that I was somewhat uncouth; but I never stop to consider prejudices and fancies when the Lord’s work is in the way.

It was a widespread and remarkable awakening, and one not without much opposition and jealousy.  I happened to say from the pulpit, that at one time before I knew the truth I used to be quite a popular man:  people liked me, and clergymen let me preach in their pulpits; but now that I had something to tell for the good of souls, they seemed to agree to keep me out.  Very few were so bold as the vicar of this parish, who had not only invited me, but stood by me also.

A neighbouring clergyman, who was an important man—­a prebendary, and what not—­wrote to the vicar to ask if it was true that I had said in the pulpit that my clerical brethren scouted me, and would not let me preach for them.