lambs in Gloucestershire.—I commit you and them to the care of the compassionate bishop and shepherd of souls; and subscribe myself, my dear man,
Yours most affectionately, G. W.
P. S. My dear wife joins in sending cordial salutations to you, yours, and all. LETTER DLXVI. To Mrs. .
Dear Madam, Boston, Feb. 17, 1745.
THIS leaves me just retired from my spiritual levee. Our good friend Mr. S tells me, while I am here he looks upon his house not as his own, but mine. His parlour is large, and I sit there to receive gospel visitants. Good Mr. P told me some time ago, that I should shortly be favoured with the company of a very pensive and uncommon person; a man of good parts, ready wit, and lively imagination, and who had made it his business, in order to furnish matter for preaching over a bottle, to come and hear, and then carry away scraps of my sermons, which it seems were to serve as texts or theses for his tavern harangues. A few nights ago he came for this purpose to Doctor S's meeting; upon my coming in, he crouded after amongst the people, and having got sufficient matter to work upon as he thought, attempted to go out; but being pent in on every side, he found his endeavours fruitless. Obliged thus to stay, and looking up to me, waiting for some fresh matter for ridicule, God was pleased to prick him to the heart. He came to Mr. P full of horror, confessed his crimes, and longed to ask my pardon, but was afraid to see me. Mr. P encouraged him to venture. This morning hearing somebody knock at the parlour door, I arose, and upon opening the door, by the paleness, pensiveness, and horror of his countenance, guessed I had met with the person of whom Mr. P had apprized me. Immediately he cried with a low but plaintive voice, "Sir, can you forgive me?" I smiled and said, "Yes, Sir, very readily." Indeed, replied he, Sir, you cannot when I tell you all, I then asked him to sit down; and judging
