pose they filled their pockets with stones. When, however, Mr. Tanner drew near, and heard Mr. Whitefield earnestly inviting sinners to Christ, he was filled with astonishment, his resolution failed him, and he went home with his mind deeply impressed. On the following evening, he again attended, and heard Mr. Whitefield on the sin of those who crucified the Redeemer. After he had forcibly illustrated their guilt, he appeared to look intently on Mr. Tanner, as he exclaimed, with great energy, "Thou art the man!" These words powerfully impressed Mr. Tanner; he felt his transgressions of the divine law to be awfully great, and in the agony of his soul he cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" The preacher then proceeded to proclaim the free and abundant grace of the Lord Jesus, which he commanded to be preached among the very people who had murdered him; a gleam of hope entered the heart of the penitent, and he surrendered himself to Christ. Mr. Tanner afterwards entered the ministry, and labored with great success, for many years, at Exeter.

We are not quite certain whether it was on this or a subsequent visit to Plymouth, that Whitefield had preached on the Sabbath for the Rev. Mr. Kinsman, and after breakfast on Monday morning, said to him, "Come, let us visit some of your poor people. It is not enough that we labor in the pulpit; we must endeavor to be useful out of it." On entering the dwellings of the afflicted poor, he administered to their temporal as well as their spiritual wants. Mr. Kinsman, knowing the low state of his finances, was surprised at his liberality, and suggested that he

thought he had been too bountiful. Mr. Whitefield, with some degree of smartness, replied, "It is not enough, young man, to pray, and put on a serious face; true religion, and undefiled, is this, to visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction, and to supply their wants. My stock, it is true, is nearly exhausted; but God, whom I serve, and whose saints we have assisted, will, I doubt not, soon give me a supply." His expectation was not disappointed. A stranger called on him the same evening, who said, "With great pleasure I have heard you preach; you are on a journey, as well as myself, and travelling is expensive. Do me the honor to accept of this;" handing him five guineas, or twenty-five dollars. Returning to the family, Mr. Whitefield, very pleasantly smiling, showed them the money, saying, "There, young man, God has very speedily repaid what I lent him this morning. Let this in future teach you not to withhold what it is in the power of your hand to give. The gentleman to whom I was called is a perfect stranger to me; his only business was to give me thé sum you see." It was a singular fact, that this gentleman, though rich, was notorious for a penurious disposition.

During his stay in Plymouth, Whitefield's usefulness daily increased. The ferry-men, who obtained their living by carrying persons between Plymouth and Dock, refused to take money from his hearers, saying, "God forbid that we should sell his word!" The evangelist exclaimed, "Oh, the thousands that flock to the preaching of Christ's gospel!" In the midst of these scenes, the convoy arrived, and in delicate health he embarked for America.

CHAPTER IX.

WHITEFIELD'S SECOND VISIT TO NEW ENGLAND. 1744, 1745.

MR. WHITEFIELD commenced his third voyage to America in August, 1744. His health while crossing the Atlantic became worse, rather than better, the voyage lasting eleven weeks. He had set out in company with about one hundred and fifty ships, attended by several men-of-war as convoys, which, however, they lost by storms separating them on the way. It was more than six weeks, owing generally to want of wind, before they reached any of the western islands. When the wind again sprung up, one of the vessels, which missed stays, drove upon the ship in which Whitefield was, striking her mainsail into the bowsprit. The alarm was very great, but no lives were lost. He had been singing a hymn on deck when the concussion took place; this fact, together with that of the concussion itself, was communicated to the convoy, and led to the use of much⭑violent and wicked language. But the good man was not intimidated. He says, "I called my friends together, and broke out into these words in prayer: 'God of the sea, and God of the dry land, this is a night of rebuke and blasphemy. Show thyself, O God, and

take us under thine own immediate protection. Be thou our convoy, and make a difference between those who fear thee, and those that fear thee not.'" A dif ference was soon made. Next day a heavy storm

arose, which "battered and sent away our convoy, so that we saw him no more all the voyage." Whitefield at first did not at all regret the loss, but when two strange sail appeared in the distance, and preparation was made for action by mounting guns, slinging hammocks on the sides of the ships, and encircling the masts with chains, he being, as he says, "naturally a coward," found it formidable to have no convoy. The vessels, however, proved to be only a part of their own fleet. This was a pleasant discovery to them, especially to Whitefield. "The captain, on clearing the cabin, said, 'After all, this is the best fighting.' You may be sure I concurred, praying that all our conflicts with spiritual enemies might at last terminate in a thorough cleansing and an eternal purification of the defiled cabin of our hearts."

The tediousness of this voyage, in the feeble state of his health, seems to have tried Whitefield's patience; so that when he arrived in sight of the port of York, in the then territory of Maine, in order to land a few hours sooner he went on board a fishing smack then in the bay; but darkness coming on, she missed her course, and was tossed about all night. Unfortunately, too, she had no provisions, and he was so hungry that he says he "could have gnawed the very boards." Besides he was suffering from "nervous colic." He was greatly discouraged, until a man who was lying at his elbow in the cabin began to talk of "one Mr. Whitefield, for whose arrival the 'New Lights' in New England" were watching and praying. "This," he says, "made me take courage. I continued undiscovered; and in a few hours, in an

swer, I trust, to new-light prayers, we arrived safe.” This was on October 19, 1744. He was quite ill when he landed; but was received by Dr. Sherburne, an eminent physician at York, who was once a Deist, but had been converted under Whitefield's ministry. This gentleman took him to his own house, and after a few days he began to recover.

The Rev. Mr. Moody, of York, the aged and excellent, but eccentric minister of whom we have already spoken, took the earliest suitable opportunity of calling on the great evangelist, and said very characteristically, "Sir, you are, first, welcome to America; secondly, to New England; thirdly, to all faithful ministers in New England; fourthly, to all the good people of New England; fifthly, to all the good people of York; and sixthly and lastly, to me, dear sir, less than the least of all." Prince's "Christian History" had announced his arrival, and that his intention was "to pass on to Georgia; and as he goes on, to meddle with no controversies, but only to preach up the parts of vital piety and the pure truths of the gospel, to all who are willing to hear them."

After giving Whitefield this hearty welcome, Moody urged him for a sermon. The preacher hesitated, on account of his illness, but "good old Mr. Moody" did not give him the benefit of his own favorite maxim, “When you know not what to do, you must not do you know not what." Whitefield preached, and immediately went to Portsmouth, where he preached the same evening, November 6, for Mr. Fitch, and was to have preached again the next morning, but was too ill, and deferred it till the afternoon.