CHAPTER XXXVII.

Beverley friends.--Copy of a letter John Wesley wrote to them.--Mr. Wesley's last visit to Beverley.--What took place in the red-roofed inn.--A race.--A lost ten minutes.

YOU, who live in Beverley, will be glad to hear that Mr. Wesley did not pass by your dear little town. Indeed, there is a house in Norwood where he most probably stayed, and certainly visited; the home of Mr. and Mrs. Barton. You shall see an exact copy of a letter he wrote to these friends. It has never been printed before, so you are the first of the public to see it. It is addressed thus:

"MRS. JANE BARTON, "IN NORWOOD, BEVERLEY, "YORKSHIRE."

And this is the letter:

London Nov. 13, 1778

My Dear Sister

I am glad Sister Crosby has been at Beverly, & that you had an Opportunity of hearing her. She is useful wheresoever she goes, particularly in exciting Believers to go on to perfection.

There is frequently something very mysterious in y^e ways of Divine Providence A little of them we may understand; but much more, is beyond our comprehension And we must be content to say, "What thou dost I know not now. But I shall know hereafter." At present, it is sufficient for us to know, That all his ways are many & truth to those that love him.

Even in these troublous times, there is a very considerable Increase of the Work of God. Cleave to Him with your whole heart, & you will have more & more reason to praise him. I am, My Dear Jenny, Y^r affectionate Brother

JWesley

You must not make a mistake and think that Mr. Wesley was Mrs. Jenny Barton's brother really; but it was the custom among the Methodists for the members of society to address each other as "Brother So-and-So" and "Sister So-and-So," meaning that they were brothers and sisters in having the same heavenly Father, and loving the same Saviour.

John Wesley preached in a meeting-house in Wood Lane, which you can still see, though it is now turned into cottages; and we may be quite sure that the boys and girls who lived in Beverley then, heard his loving words, and received his blessing. He once spent two days of his birthday month in your quaint old town. The June sun stole through the stained windows of the beautiful Minster, and looked into the jackdaws' nests on St. Mary's Tower.

There is a funny story told of this last visit, which he paid only a few months before his death. He was going to preach in Hull again, and forty friends from that town had come over to see him. They were all to have dinner together in the red-roofed inn where he was staying, and then drive back with him to Hull. Everybody was very merry, and they laughed and talked so much that they quite forgot all about the time. Suddenly, Mr. Wesley looked at his watch, then jumped up from the dinner table, shouted good-bye to his friends, stepped into his carriage, which had been waiting some time for him at the door, and was off before his astonished friends could say a word. Their horses and carriages were got ready with all speed, but it was only by driving very fast that they managed to overtake Mr. Wesley before he rode into Hull.

Punctuality was one of Mr. Wesley's strongest points. He could never bear to be a minute behind time. Once, when his carriage did not come punctually, he was heard to say: "I have lost ten minutes for ever."