The Rev. Alexander Garden, the Bishop of London’s commissary at Charlestown, in America, published a series of six letters on justification by faith and works, in which he accused Whitefield of “self contradiction,” of “arrogant and wicked slander,” and of being “so full of zeal that he had no room for charity.” He contemptuously speaks of Whitefield’s “apparent shuffles,” “miserable distinctions,” “mob harangues,” and “false and poisoned insinuations.” Whitefield “deceives the people, and has no talent at proving anything”; he is “a hare-brained solifidian, and runs about a mouthing”; he has “kindled a fire of slander and defamation, which no devil in hell, nor jesuit on earth, will ever make an effort to extinguish, but will fagot and foment it with all their might”; “he dispenses to the populace in a vehicle of cant terms, without sense or meaning”; and “in a mountebank way, he fancies himself a young David, and that he has slain Goliath.” Whitefield was again severely handled “by a presbyter of the Church of England,” in an able pamphlet of forty-four pages, entitled “A modest and serious Defence of the Author of the Whole Duty of Man, from the false charges and gross misrepresentations of Mr. Whitefield, and the Methodists his adherents”; but this was a castigation which Whitefield merited, for his ill judged and unneeded letter, published in the _Daily Advertiser_ of July 3, 1740. The most violent attack of all was in an octavo pamphlet of eighty-five pages, with the title, “The Expounder Expounded, by R——ph J——ps——n, of the Inner Temple, Esq.” London. Some parts of this disgraceful production are too filthy to be noticed; they must be passed in silence. In other parts, Whitefield, for publishing his journal, is charged with “saddling the world with one of the grossest absurdities and impositions, that folly or impudence could invent”; “his book is nothing but a continued account of his intimate union and correspondence with the devil”; and he himself may be seen “upon the hills and house-tops, like another Æolus, belching out his divine vapours to the multitude, to the great ease of himself, and emolument of his auditors.” “Charles Wesley lent him books at Oxford, which threw his understanding off the hinges, and rendered him _enthusiastically_ crazy”; at college he “deemed a lousy pate _humility_, foul linen was _heavenly contemplation_, woollen gloves were _grace_, a patched gown was _justification by faith_, and dirty shoes meant a _walk with God_. In short, with him, religion consisted wholly in _nastiness_, and heaven was easiest attacked from a _dunghill_.” These are the mildest specimens we have been able to select from this cesspool of a perverted intellect and a polluted heart.