Wesley in St. Albans Abbey
Monday, July 30. -- l preached at Bingham, ten miles from Nottingham. I really admired the exquisite stupidity of the people. They gaped and stared while I was speaking of death and judgment, as if they had never heard of such things before. And they were not helped by two surly, ill-mannered clergymen, who seemed to be just as wise as themselves. The congregation at Houghton in the evening was more noble, behaving with the utmost decency.

Tuesday, 31. -- At nine I preached in the market place at Loughborough, to almost as large a congregation as at Nottingham and equally attentive. Thence I rode to Markfield. Notwithstanding the harvest, the church was quickly filled. And great was our rejoicing in our great High Priest, through whom we "came boldly to the throne of grace." In the evening I preached in the Castle Yard at Leicester, to a multitude of awakened and unawakened. One feeble attempt was made to disturb them. A man was sent to cry fresh salmon at a little distance; but he might as well have spared the pains, for none took the least notice of him.

Wednesday, August 1. -- I rode to Northampton. It being still extremely hot, I determined not to be cooped up, but took my stand on the side of the common, and cried aloud to a large multitude of rich and poor, "Acquaint thyself now with him, and be at peace" [Job 27:21].

Thursday, 2. -- Some friends from London met us at St. Albans. Before dinner we took a walk in the abbey, one of the most ancient buildings in the kingdom, nearly a thousand years old; and one of the largest, being five hundred and sixty feet in length (considerably more than Westminster Abbey), and broad and high in proportion. Near the east end is the tomb and vault of good Duke Humphrey. Some now living remember since his body was entire. style="#_ftn42" name="_ftnref42">[1] But after the coffin was opened, so many were curious to taste the liquor in which it was preserved that in a little time the corpse was left bare, and then soon moldered away. A few bones are now all that remain. How little is the spirit concerned at this!

wesley and the turnpikes
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