ther was very cold. About six in the
evening I reached Bolton. At half past seven I began my lecture, in a
place crowded almost to suffocation. After the lecture, I had an hour
and a half's debate. Between eleven and twelve I went to bed. I spent
next day mostly in writing. At half past seven I began my second
lecture, with a congregation more closely packed than the night before.
The lecture was followed with a somewhat longer debate. This continued
five nights. On Friday night I got to bed about twelve. At half past two
I started in an open gig for Manchester, twelve miles off. The morning
was very cold. There was a severe frost and a thick fog. At Manchester I
took the coach for Newcastle, and I rode outside all day, until half
past ten at night. The Sunday following I preached three times again.
And in this way I labored for nearly two years. I paid all my own
expenses. I also engaged and paid a person to preach for me, and to
attend to my other duties in the circuit, during the week. If there was
a loss at my meetings I bore it myself; never asking any one for aid.
And at times I had heavy losses. At Manchester once, after giving five
lectures, I was eleven pounds out of pocket. At Birmingham I had a loss
of thirty-seven pounds on five lectures. That was about the hardest week
I ever had. My tongue got rather white. My food lost its relish. My
thoughts kept me awake after I lay down in bed sometimes, and sometimes
awoke me after I had gone to sleep. I caught myself drawing long breaths
at times. Money came into my head at prayer, though none came into my
pocket. I did not even ask for that. I met with Combe's work on
digestion and read it, but it did not help me much, either in digesting
my food, or my heavy loss. But I made no complaints. I did not even tell
my wife till long after, when I was prosperous and comfortable again.
And none of those who heard my lectures, saw in me any sign of
discouragement. I lectured to my small audience as earnestly as if the
vast amphitheatre had been crowded. And I paid the whole loss out of my
own pocket, asking help from neither stranger nor friend.

Just about this time Mr. Hulme, the son-in-law of my chief persecutor,
set afloat a story that I was getting immensely rich by my lectures, and
demanded that I should hand over my gains to the Connexional funds. I
could hardly help wishing that he had been compelled to take one-half of
my Manchester and Birmingham gains.

I never