Leaving Pateley, Wesley, for the first time, visited Ripon. He writes: “May 2--We came to Ripon, and observed a remarkable turn of providence: the great hindrance of the work of God in this place has suddenly disappeared; and the poor people, being delivered from their fear, gladly flock together, and hear His word. The new preaching house was quickly more than filled.” Four years previous to this, Thomas Dixon was one of the Ripon preachers, and, in his unpublished autobiography, wrote: “Upon our going to Ripon, we preached in a small room up a flight of stairs, and even this we were to leave at Martinmas. But, just at this time, Mr. T. Dowson, who had suffered much for the gospel’s sake, bought the premises where an old barn and stable stood. He immediately pulled down the barn, and built a decent chapel and a dwelling house upon the site, and, with such expedition, that we were able to get into the shell of the new chapel by the time we had to leave the upstairs room. By this means, God gave the poor persecuted Methodists, in Ripon, a degree of rest they had never known before, and the work, from that time, gradually grew.” On leaving Ripon, Wesley proceeded “through a delightful country to the immense ruins of Garvaix Abbey,” and thence across the “horrid, dreary, enormous mountains” to Penrith, another place where he now, for the first time, preached. He writes: “May 5--In the evening, a large room, designed for an assembly, was procured for me at Penrith; but several of the poor people were struck with panic, for fear the room should fall. Finding there was no remedy, I went down into the court below, and preached in great peace to a multitude of well behaved people.” On May 11, Wesley reached Newcastle, and thence proceeded to Scotland. On his return southwards, we find him preaching at Durham, Darlington, Northallerton, Boroughbridge, and York. Making his way through Lincolnshire, he came to Newark, where, twenty years before, the mob had burnt the Methodist pulpit in the market place; and had not only pelted the preacher, Thomas Lee, with all sorts of missiles, and dragged him to the river Trent, where they ducked and dabbled him without mercy, but, to complete the whole, a painter came with his pot and brush, and bedaubed him most ludicrously. Wesley writes: “1780, June 12--Our friends at Newark were divided as to the place where I should preach. At length, they found a convenient place, covered on three sides, and on the fourth open to the street. It contained two or three thousand people well, who appeared to hear as for life. Only one big man, exceeding drunk, was very noisy and turbulent, till his wife (_fortissima Tyndaridarum!_) seized him by the collar, gave him two or three hearty boxes on the ear, and dragged him away like a calf. But, at length, he got out of her hands, crept in among the people, and stood as quiet as a lamb.”