In the month of March, 1750, a general alarm had been awakened by earthquakes in London, and fears were excited by pretended prophecies of still greater devastation. These signal judgments of Jehovah were preceded by great profligacy of manners, and its fruitful parent, licentiousness of principle. Dr. Horne, afterwards dean of Canterbury and bishop of Bristol, in a sermon preached at the time, says, "As to faith, is not the doctrine of the Trinity, and that of the divinity of our Lord and Saviour--without which our redemption is absolutely void, and we are yet in our sins, lying under the intolerable burden of the wrath of God--blasphemed and ridiculed openly in conversation and in print? And as to righteousness of life, are not the people of this land dead in trespasses and sins? Idleness, drunkenness, luxury, extravagance, and debauchery; for these things cometh the wrath of God, and disordered nature proclaims the impending distress and perplexity of nations. And Oh, may we of this nation never read a handwriting upon the wall of heaven, in illuminated capitals of the Almighty, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN--God hath numbered the kingdom, and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balances of heaven, and found wanting the merits of a rejected Redeemer, and therefore the kingdom is divided and given away." The shocks felt in London in February and March of this year, were far more violent than any remembered for a long series of years. The earth moved throughout the whole cities of London and Westminster. It was a strong and jarring motion, attended with a rumbling noise like that of thunder. Multitudes of persons of every class fled from these cities with the utmost haste, and others repaired to the fields and open places in the neighborhood. Towerhill, Moorfields, and Hyde Park were crowded with men, women, and children, who remained a whole night under the most fearful apprehensions. Places of worship were filled with persons in the utmost state of alarm. Especially was this the case with those attached to Methodist congregations, where multitudes came all night, knocking at the doors, and for God's sake begging admittance. As convulsions of nature are usually regarded by enthusiasts and fanatics as the sure harbinger of its dissolution, a soldier "had a revelation," that a great part of London and Westminster would be destroyed by an earthquake on a certain night, between the hours of twelve and one o'clock. Believing his assertion, thousands fled from the city for fear of being suddenly overwhelmed, and repaired to the fields, where they continued all night, in momentary expectation of seeing the prophecy fulfilled; while thousands of others ran about the streets in the most wild and frantic state of consternation, apparently quite certain that the day of judgment was about to commence. The whole scene was truly awful.