On the 9th of May, Wesley reached Edinburgh, where his state of health was made the subject of an important medical examination. It has been already stated that, before he left London, his friends there, perceiving signs of age and debility, had contributed to provide him a carriage in which to pursue his extensive and laborious journeys. Since then, in less than ten weeks, he had travelled, in his chaise and on horseback, from London to Bristol, and thence to Birmingham, Nottingham, Macclesfield, Chester, Liverpool, Manchester, Whitehaven, Carlisle, Glasgow, Aberdeen, and Edinburgh, preaching there, and at a great number of intervening towns and villages, sometimes as many as four sermons in a day. He had had to encounter winter storms, to wade mid-leg deep in snow, and to travel roads so execrably bad, that sometimes he was literally bogged. Not unfrequently he preached in the midst of piercing winds in the open air; and yet, there is not a single entry in his journal indicative of failing health. Never, in his life, was he more intent upon the prosecution of his great work than now. Writing to his brother from Congleton, and again from Perth, he says: “I find almost all our preachers, in every circuit, have done with Christian perfection. They say, they believe it; but they never preach it, or not once in a quarter. What is to be done? Shall we let it drop, or make a point of it? Oh what a thing it is to have _curam animarum_! You and I are called to this; to save souls from death; to watch over them as those that must give account! If our office implied no more than preaching a few times in a week, I could play with it; so might you. But how small a part of our duty (yours as well as mine) is this! God says to you, as well as me, ‘Do all thou canst, be it more or less, to save the souls for whom My Son has died.’ Let this voice be ever sounding in our ears; then shall we give up our account with joy. _Eia age, rumpe moras!_ I am ashamed of my indolence and inactivity. Your business, as well as mine, is to save souls. When we took priests’ orders we undertook to make it our one business. I think every day lost, which is not (mainly at least) employed in this thing. _Sum totus in illo._ “I am glad you are to be at Bristol soon. To whom shall I leave my letters and papers? I am quite at a loss. I think Mr. Fletcher is the best that occurs now. Adieu!”[163] Wesley was too busy to think of being ill. He was not alarmed; but his friends were. Hence, the following addressed to Charles Wesley. “SHOREHAM, _April 18, 1772_.