hope to be with you without fail on Tuesday morning. What letters you have, pray send to, Dear Sir,
Your unworthy friend, &c. G. W.
LETTER XXI. To the Same.
Dear Sir, Stonehouse, April 26, 1737.
BE pleased to send the Poor Country Curate, and Flavel's Husbandry Spiritualized. I know not what to do for want of a clock in the house. How shall I know, how my precious time passes away? You'll mind your promise to come. Here are lovely, solitary, and pleasant walks to commune with your own heart, and search out your spirit. Has Mr. Pauncefoot wrote to me? My dear friend Stratford's death affects me still. Methinks I long to be above, employed as he is. But alas, I am not ripe for glory; if I was, my heavenly Father would gather me into his garner. Farewell, Dear Sir; remember I am alone, and pray accordingly for
Your sincere, though weak friend, G. W.
LETTER XXII. To the same.
Dear Sir, Stonehouse, May 4, 1737.
WHY does not Mr. H. let me hear from or see him? Surely no evil has befallen either him or his family in their way to eternity. Why then tarry their horses? Why are they so long in coming to visit the country, which now looks like a second paradise, and which, to me, seems the pleasantest place I ever was in, through all my life? Surely I can never be thankful enough for being sent hither; people flock to hear the word of God from the neighbouring villages, as well as our own. They gladly receive me into their houses, and I have no let or hindrance to my ministerial business; and what is still better, God has opened my heart, and enabled me to finish a sermon on "Remember thy Creator, &c."—If you will come on Sunday you may hear it perhaps.—Your sister-in-law talks of being here again on Friday; but I be-
