me a growing power over the evil.
I dried my tears and returned to my party. I spoke at the poor young
Atheist's grave, and concluded my address with the following prayer,
"May trust in God, and the hope of a better life, and the love of truth
and virtue, and delight in doing good, remain with all who have them,
and come to all who have them not. Amen."

The gentleman with whom I had lived at Burnley had said to me on the
morning of that very day, that if I prayed at the funeral he should
never think well of me more. He afterwards said, when he heard of the
prayer I had offered, he had no objection to a prayer like that. He was
not aware of the shorter prayer that I had offered when alone, or he
would have spoken probably in another strain. He was dreadfully opposed
to religion, and very uneasy when he saw me moving in the direction of
Christianity.

Among the friends who left the church on account of my expulsion, was
Samuel Methley, of Mirfield, near Huddersfield. He was rather eccentric
in some respects; but he was an honest, earnest, kind, and Christian
man. He had had little or no school instruction, and he had nothing that
could be called learning, or high intellectual culture; but he was a man
of great faith, of much love, and much prayer. His affection and
reverence for me were almost unbounded, and so long as I continued a
believer in Christ, he was ready to go with me any lengths in
Evangelical reform. When I ran into politics he was somewhat staggered,
but followed me as far as he durst. When I began to be skeptical he
stood still, afraid, and very unhappy. On one occasion he ventured to
rebuke me; but I knew that the rebuke was the offspring of affection,
and I took it quietly. When I went to America he was greatly distressed,
and prayed for me most anxiously and earnestly. When he found I had
become an unbeliever, he resolved never to go near a meeting of mine
again, and prayed to God to help him to keep his resolution. For many
years he tried to wean himself from me, to extinguish his passionate
regard for me; but whenever he found that I was to lecture in his
neighborhood, he lost his self-control, and came, though with
reluctance, and many misgivings, to my meetings. He generally rose after
my lectures, to protest against my extravagances, and to testify his
uncontrollable affection for me, and his anxious desire for my
salvation. To do otherwise than take his remarks in good part was
impossible. Poor