“Immediately after writing my last, I preached to many thousands at Gwennap. In the evening, I went to St. Ives. The next day, Sunday, March 11th, I went to church in the morning, and heard a virulent sermon from these words, ‘Beware of false prophets.’ The preacher had said, on the day before, ‘Now Whitefield is coming, I must put on my old armour.’[273] I preached twice to large auditories, and then rode back to Gwennap rejoicing. On Monday, I preached again at Redruth, at ten in the morning, to near ten thousand. Arrows of conviction seemed to fly fast. In the evening, I preached to above five hundred, at a place twelve miles distant, and then rode about sixteen miles to one Mr. B――――’s, a wealthy man, convinced about two years ago. In riding, my horse threw me violently on the ground, but I got up without receiving much hurt. The next day,” (Tuesday, March 13,) “we had a most delightful season at St. Mewan; and the day following, a like time at Port Isaac. In the evening, I met my dear Mr. Thompson, at Mr. Bennet’s, a friendly minister aged fourscore; and, on Thursday, preached in both his churches. Blessed seasons both! On Friday, we went to Bideford, where there is perhaps one of the best little flocks in all England.[274] The power of God so came down, while I was expounding to them, that Mr. Thompson could scarce stand under it. I preached twice. On Monday evening” (March 19), “I came to Exeter, and, with great regret, shall stay till Friday; for I think every day lost that is not spent in field-preaching. An unexpectedly wide door is opened in Cornwall, so that I have sometimes almost determined to go back again.” Thus did Whitefield requite his abusive foe, the Bishop of Exeter. Lavington, in the most scurrilous language, blackguarded Whitefield and the Methodists in the notorious pamphlets which he was now writing and publishing, without having the manliness to acknowledge them as his own; and Whitefield, in return, quietly invaded the bishop’s diocese, and, from Land’s End to Exeter, tried to revive religion, where it was almost, if not entirely, dead. No wonder that the bishop raved!