t of his statement, which seemed to satisfy many
in the audience that I had been guilty of inconsistency. What could I
do? I had nothing to oppose to his testimony and his pretended proofs,
but my solemn denial of the statement. Most happily for me, as soon as
my opponent took his seat, a lady rose, towards the farther end of the
room, with a baby in her arms. "I wish to speak," said the lady. The
people near her helped her to step upon a seat, that she might be seen
and heard to better advantage. "_I_ am the mother referred to by Mr.
Bakewell," said the lady, "and this is the child. Mr. Bakewell's
statement is untrue. Mr. Barker did not sprinkle my child. He only named
it, and asked God's blessing on it. Here is my husband, and he can
testify to the truth of this statement." The lady stepped down and the
husband rose. "I am the Richard Burrows mentioned by Mr. Bakewell. This
is my wife, and that is our child. Mr. Barker did not baptize it. Mr.
Bakewell's statement is false." That settled the question. The feeling
against my slanderer was tremendous. The people would not hear him speak
another word.

It had so happened that Mr. and Mrs. Burrows had been obliged to remove
from Wales to the neighborhood of Dudley, and had just arrived at their
new home. Hearing that I was lecturing at Dudley, they hastened to the
meeting, and got there just in time to hear my opponent mention their
names in support of his charge of inconsistency. What could be more
natural than that I and my friends should regard this remarkable and
happy incident as a gracious interposition of Providence in our behalf?

The conduct of my opponents had a most injurious effect not only on my
own mind, but on the minds of my wife and children. We came to look on
New Connexion Methodist preachers as some of the worst of men,--as the
very essence or embodiment of deceit and malignity; and our respect for
Methodist preachers generally, and even for Methodism itself, was
greatly abated. The consequence was, we were prepared to move in almost
any direction that would take us farther away from our old associates,
and we all became, to some extent, anti-Methodistical in our feelings
and sentiments.

Exciting meetings like the one at Dudley took place in almost every part
of the country. The numbers attending them were so great that no room
could hold them, so that I generally had to speak in the open air. And I
lectured almost every night, and often through the