, where we were to pass the Sunday. Oh, how tired I was!
almost too tired to sleep.

On Sunday, we went to church at the Cathedral, where we had a very dull
sermon from a Minor Canon. In the afternoon, as we sat in the host's
parlour, Ephraim said to me,--

"Cary, did you ever hear of George Whitefield?"

"Oh yes, Ephraim!" I cried, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and
my eyes light up. "I heard him preach in Scotland, when I was there
with Flora. Have you heard him?"

"Yes, many times, and Mr Wesley also."

I was pleased to hear that. "And what were you going to say about him?"

"That if you knew his name, it would interest you to hear that he was
born in this inn. His parents kept it."

"And he chose to be a field-preacher!" cried I. "Why, that was coming
down in the world, was it not?" [Note 1.]

"It was coming down, in this world," said he. "But there is another
world, Cary, and I fancy it was going up in that. You must remember,
however, that he did not choose to be a field-preacher nor a Dissenter:
he was turned out of the Church."

"But why should he have been turned out?"

"I expect, because he would not hold his tongue."

"But why did anybody want him to hold his tongue?"

"Well, you see, he let it run to awkward subjects. Ladies and gentlemen
did not like him because he set his face against fashionable diversions,
and told them that they were miserable sinners, and that there was only
one way into Heaven, which they would have to take as well as the poor
in the almshouses. The neighbouring clergy did not like him because he
was better than themselves. And the bishops did not like him because he
said they ought to do their duty better, and look after their dioceses,
instead of setting bad examples to their clergy by hunting and
card-playing and so forth; or, at the best, sitting quiet in their
closets to write learned books, which was not the duty they promised
when they were ordained. But, as was the case with another Preacher,
`the common people heard him gladly.'"

"And he was really turned out?"

"Seven years ago."

"I wonder if it were a wise thing," said I, thinking.

"Mr Raymond says it was the most unwise thing they could have done.
And he says so of the turning forth under the Act of Uniformity, eighty
years ago. He thinks the men who were the very salt of the Church left
her then: and that now she is a saltless, soulless thing, that will die
unless God's merc