On Sunday, August 5, he reached Everton, “faint and weary”; attended the morning and afternoon services in Mr. Berridge’s church, where several “cried out aloud, not from sorrow or fear, but love and joy.” At night, he preached in Mr. Hicks’s church, at Wrestlingworth, and “two or three fell to the ground, and were extremely convulsed; while one or two were filled with strong consolation.” He “talked with Ann Thorn, and two others, who had been several times in trances”; and Berridge took him to Alice Miller, a girl fifteen years of age, whom he found “sitting on a stool, and leaning against a wall, with her eyes open and fixed upward.” He made a motion as if about to strike her, but her eyes remained unmoved. Tears stole down her cheeks; her face was stamped with reverence and love; her lips were open, but not a word was uttered. In about half an hour, her countenance changed into the form of fear, pity, and distress; she burst into a flood of tears, and cried, “They will all be damned!” In five minutes, her smiles returned; this was followed by an exhibition of distress, when she again exclaimed, “They will go to hell! Cry aloud! Spare not!” After remaining in this state for some hours, “her senses returned.” Wesley asked, “Where have you been?” She answered, “With my Saviour.” “Why did you cry?” “Not for myself, but for the world; for I saw they were on the brink of hell.” This is a strange story, which Wesley leaves, as he leaves many more, without comment. On August 7, he got back to London. Before proceeding farther, the following extract from a letter, which Berridge wrote to Wesley three weeks before his visit, will not be out of place, and will furnish the reader with “an idea of the wonderful work and scenes witnessed at Everton, and in the surrounding country.” “_July 16, 1759._