party. His choice, at that time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, and he then evidently shrunk from the cares, and embarrassments, attached to the collecting, building, and repairing churches. And never, I believe, did any man in public life enjoy more: he was the admiration of the many, and an object of the warmest affection in those social circles, in which it was his felicity to mingle. The pleasures of the table were highly zested by Mr. Whitefield, and it was the pride of his friends to procure for him every possible luxury. The pleasure I derived from this gentleman's preaching, from his society, and from the society of his friends, contributed to lessen the weight of melancholy, which depressed my spirits on my departure from home. I recollect an evening, passed with him at the house of one of Mr. Wesley's preachers, who had wedded a beautiful young lady of family and fortune, only daughter of a Mrs. ———, who possessed a very large estate, kept her chariot, her city, and her country house, and entertained much company; many persons were collected upon this evening; I was charmed with every thing I saw, with every thing I heard. I had long admired the master of the house, his lady I had never before seen; she was the object of general adulation; her person was uncommonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly beautiful; she had received a useful, as well as a fashionable education, and she was mistress of all the polite accomplishments. She had three lovely children, with minds as well cultivated, as their time of life would permit; I threw my eyes upon the happy, the highly favoured husband, the amiable wife, the fascinating children, the venerable lady, who gave being to this charming wife, mother, friend. I beheld the group with rapture; for envy, as I have elsewhere observed, was never an ingredient in my composition, and I hung with a sort of chastened pleasure, upon the anecdotes furnished by Mr. Whitefield; the whole scene was captivatingly entertaining, and highly interesting; I was ready to wish the night might endure forever. Alas! it was but one night; I never after entered that house: Happy would it have been for me, if I had never seen it. How mysterious are the ways of heaven! this evening, upon which I was so highly gratified, was the remote cause of my suffering, many years afterwards, great and very serious inquietude. I left the house of my friend, Mr. Trinbath, expecting to have seen him again and again; I left him an object of envy to many; but I never saw him more, nor did he, poor gentleman, long continue the object of envy to any one.
