George’s Fields, the most generous and friendly I ever met with in my travels; but I must make you smile. A good man, who is an excellent preacher now, and who has long known me, one day, about this time of my preaching at Lant-street, said to me, “C. I think you play the hypocrite the best I ever knew one in my life.” This startled me at first, till he explained himself thus: “I was hearing you at Lant-street, last Sunday, and saw you dressed in your full robes, and yet I knew you had not a shoe to your feet, and in the most indigent circumstances.” I only replied, that I thought being poor, and seeming so, was of no use to me. Mr. G. returned from his travels, so that my services were then wanted no more there. Mr. G. did not know me at that time. I knew him, having heard him once only, some years before I was in the ministry; but, hearing much of me, he sent for me, to preach, one Lord’s-day evening. The gentleman alluded to in the beginning of this letter, was asked for some one to go into Oxfordshire; his mind ran directly to me, and he advised me to go there; and, as usual, I soon gave my consent, and went down to the place, the day before Christmas Day: the journey was long, but I arrived safe, was cordially received, and preached there on the Christmas Day; I was well received, and abode a month; the people and the managers treated me with every mark of affection, and I returned to London, loaded with their kindness. Never having experienced such treatment before, and meeting with some experimental Christians, and many who loved the truth, the people became very dear to me; it was shortly proposed to me to settle with them, and I gave my consent. Here I acted just as self willed as I had done before, and advised with no godly minister, or experienced people upon the subject. It is the wisdom of the wise to understand his way, but, alas! I did not; which I see the folly of now it is too late to mend, but the Lord has borne long with my manners in the wilderness. Yours, truly, J. C. And while upon the earth I live, I want the Saviour’s love in view, And say, my God, my sins forgive, And pardon all my virtues too. LETTER XII. “Behold, the day is come,” saith the Lord, “that the ploughman shall overtake the reaper.” To —