sible for God himself to save a simner so vile as he found himself to be: he says his troubles at times were such, that he thought he could not live, yet he knew that, if he died in the state that he was then in, he should most certainly be damned. But, as soon as ever you opened your mouth in prayer, he declares that he felt such comfort flow into his heart as he cannot describe. In short, he declares you asked for every thing that he wanted, and when you preached, the word came with such amazing power and consolation into his soul, that it cast out all fear, and all torment. This was on the Sunday morning at Downham. He is now sitting by me while I am writing this; he came to me last night, and again this morning, between five and six o'clock. He desires me to give his kind love to his dear father in Christ Jesus, for such, he says, he knows you to be; and begs to be favoured with an interest in your prayers; and if you would condescend to favour him with a few lines, he shall esteem it a peculiar favour: for he says he knows you have begotten him in the bonds of the gospel; and such a love does he feel to you that he shall never be able to express. His name is Waddelow Stevens; he desired to me to say that he is now in the thirtieth year of his age. He told me this morning that he had some conversation with his wife last night, and he is in hope that God has not forgotten her, as she is far from being at ease in Zion. Hẹ

is a very simple, honest man; both myself and Mr. M. have long entertained a favourable opinion of him; but, being a man of very few words, and having never once opened his mouth before to us on a religious subject, we were the more surprised to hear this glorious account. He tells us that he should have come to you before you left Downham; but, as he knew the liberality of your heart, he dared not. He says that he shall have cause to bless you as long as he is in the

come whenever it may,

world; and, let his end he is fully persuaded, and that without one doubt, that he shall end his days in peace. He says, he thinks, if possible, that his comforts have increased more and more ever since you left us; yea, he declares that heaven itself cannot afford more consolation than what he now feels. He says that he wishes he could write; he has sufficient matter for an endless epistle. God's goodness to this poor man has provoked some to jeaousy; nor can I say that I am altogether without heat from this flame; for, although I know it is better than life itself to have a good hope through grace, yet I want also to be favoured with the fulness of that love that casteth out all fear. For, let me be favoured with what encouragement I may while hearing, I cannot retain it. I remember, two years since, you told me to watch the good hand of God, for you said you had no doubt but I should soon hear of some poor

souls to whom the word would be made a blessing. Last year Mrs. Etches escaped the dismal regions, and Mrs. Few found the door of hope. And this year this poor man has been favoured with a sweet sound from the jubilee trumpet. The former I rejoiced at; nor could I refrain from tears at hearing the latter: but I will leave you to judge of my feelings, when the contested prize of the bosom is possessed by another, which is what I have so long and so earnestly sought. But in this I fail not: I always beg of God to let his word run and be glorified whenever you come down among us. But can I be wrong if I covet earnestly the best gifts for my own soul?

Adieu, my ever dear, my valuable, and ever blessed friend: accept my most unfeigned and most fervent love yourself; tender the same to my dear Lady S.; and, with kind remembrance to all friends at Cricklewood, conclude me, in the best of bonds, ever

Yours most affectionately,

MARY MARTIN.

LETTER L.

To Mrs. CHARLES MARTIN.

MARY'S artless and simple account of the poor man's deliverance came safe to hand, and it is a most humbling and self-abasing consideration to me, being a true copy of a living epistle, and a sweet exhibition of the unparalleled condescension and humiliation of God, in setting the broad seal of heaven to the commission of the most despicable and the most abhorred of all ambassadors; but God, knowing that I am much hated, hath therefore given me another son.

And if a multitude of various looks can speak, and countenances can proclaim, and if I have any skill in reading the risings and fallings, the goings and comings, the approbation and then the fear, the risings in hope and sinking in dread, the shining with oil and the weepings of love: I say, if I can read these inward motions by the countenance, which is a true index of the heart, you will, ere long, acquaint me with the birth of another son, unless he be one that comes from some distant place. It is a poor young man that I allude to, a face that I have often seen in the barn; both his ears were most assuredly unstopped, and he heard the voice of the charmer,

and moved in concert with it; his countenance and my mouth kept pace and footed it together, until the damping conclusion of I add no more, put a stop to the dance; it was so conspicuous, that I could but observe it, and he was too much lost in amazement to think of concealing. I mentioned the circumstance to you and Mr. M. afterwards, though neither of you could inform me who he is; but we shall not lose him in the crowd, for, when the voice of pardon says to the prisoner, Go forth, then they that sit in darkness must shew themselves, Isaiah xlix. 9. He must appear, for all such shall return and give glory to God, if nineteen hypocrites depart without it.

I was not a little surprised, when we first walked together in the garden, at the poor man you speak of; both his words and his countenance expressed a most hearty welcome, and his hand the most cordial reception; such salutations and embraces are seldom lavished away upon the offscouring of the earth. I expect no less, either by word or look, than to be considered and received as an enemy, a deceiver, a troubler of Israel, or as a spy upon the nakedness of the land. But, as every good work proclaims the workman, so a man's gift, especially the gift of the Holy Spirit, makes room for him. If the word is a hammer, it breaks the rock; if a fire, it dissolves the mountains; if a candle, it searches Jerusalem; if a voice of thunder, it alarms the secure; and, if as the piercings of a sword, entrances and inroads into