to plead his cause with great earnestness, and even with tears; assuring his landlord that he would never have occasion to repent of having aided the cause of vital and practical godliness; for that Methodism, as it was called, was neither more nor less than this. The Baronet at length replied, "Bennett, you take advantage of my kindness for you: you know I do not like to deny you anything. I suppose you must go and do what you like with the old barn."

My father's object was thus accomplished. He had obtained for the ark a resting-place, though an humble one; and his own house was the home for those who from time to time came to conduct the worship of God, and preach his holy word. All they had now to do was zealously to avail themselves of the advantages with which divine Providence had favoured them. And this they did. Prayer was made to God, and his work was both deepened and extended. A society was collected, chiefly composed, indeed, of poor people; but they walked in the fear of the Lord, and the comfort of the Holy Ghost; and as their conduct was consistent with their profession, the influence of their example became stronger and stronger, till the whole village presented a character as different as possible from that which belonged to it in former years, and especially on Sabbath-days.

Nor did my father lose the esteem of the worthy old Baronet and his lady. Not long after, the latter was taken ill, and my father was sent for to converse with her on religious subjects, and pray by her bed-side. It proved to be her last illness; and I have often heard my father speak of the comfort he had in those visits which he was permitted to pay her, and of the good hope that he had of her ultimate salvation.

Little did the good old Baronet anticipate, when, at the urgent solicitation of a favourite tenant, he granted a tenement to be used by the Methodists for the worship of God, that this would become, ere long, the place where two of his own daughters, and his niece, should receive spiritual awakening and convictions. Sir Gillis himself died a very few years after his lady; and not long afterwards, the above-mentioned ladies, walking in the village, heard the sound of singing, which issued, they soon found, from the barn-chapel. Turning out of the street, they went to the place, the windows of which were open, so that they could see and hear all that was proceeding within. They went, as they afterwards said, expecting that farmer Bennett would be preaching, and they thought they should like to hear what he had to say. It was, however, the evening on which the public prayermeeting was held. My father prayed; and several of the poor labourers of the village, members of the Methodist society, prayed also. They did not forget the ladies at the window, but prayed that the Spirit of God might teach them what they needed to know. they turned away from the window, the older sister was heard to say, "Fanny, did you ever hear people pray so, such poor people, too, and

As

without a book? I am afraid that we could not have prayed so. And they prayed for us so earnestly. If they are right, I fear we are wrong. If they are in the way to heaven, I am afraid there can be little doubt as to the way in which we are going." The immediate effect produced on their minds, was the conviction that there must be a something in religion to which they were as yet entire strangers, and the resolution, not only to become acquainted with it, but possessed

of it.

Accordingly, their mental distress still continuing, they sent the next day for Mr. Bennett. I have often heard him describe the interview. He was accosted to this effect: "O, Mr. Bennett, we have sent for you to tell you that we are all wretchedly unhappy. We are really afraid that we have been in the dark all these years, and that we are not going in the path which leads to heaven. Can you tell us how to get rid of this horrible feeling? for it really is more than we can bear." My father at once said, that he believed they had been arrested very mercifully in their career of thoughtlessness by the Holy Spirit; and that if they, renouncing their sins, would come to the cross of Christ as truly humbled penitents, they would obtain mercy, and have joy and peace in the room of their present distress. He conversed with them, prayed with them, and left them deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly seeking pardon and peace.

In a day or two afterwards they came to the farm-house, as they wished to have the united counsel of my father and mother. I was only a boy at the time; but I well remember their coming, and their sitting with the docility of children to receive instruction from persons in a station in life so much inferior to their own. But they could now enter fully into the meaning of the language of the "Confession" in the Communion Service. The remembrance of their sins was grievous unto them, and the burden intolerable; and they felt that they could have no peace till they had found that rest to their souls which our Saviour Christ promises unto all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn to him. And it was not long before they found what they sought. Their sorrow was turned into joy; and in their subsequent visits they often joined the devout and happy pair who tenanted the place, in songs of thanksgiving and praise. They likewise joined the society that had been formed, feeling that they needed the advantages afforded by the communion of saints as much as the poorest member of the class.

This occurrence gave a new impulse to Methodism. Numbers came to the barn to hear for themselves; and it was soon evident that a more commodious place of worship was necessary. But my father had lost his old friend, Sir Gillis. His successor was decidedly-I fear, I must say, even bitterly-opposed to Methodism; and, unhappily, was very deficient in that kindness of heart and suavity of behaviour so characteristic of the venerable old Baronet. The very circumstances which

called for a new place of worship (namely, the growing extent and respectability of Methodism in the village) strengthened the opposition already existing in the mind of the new Baronet, and many and grievous were the annoyances and persecutions which my father had to endure. All probability of obtaining land for a chapel from him was completely out of the question: there was no alternative, therefore, but to continue as they were, or to endeavour to obtain help from other quarters. Every person in the immediate neighbourhood who had any land was applied to; but all, seemingly, was to no purpose. A special prayer-meeting was called, for the express purpose of commending the whole affair to the merciful providence of God, and seeking that the heart of some one might be so influenced as to be inclined to furnish the requisite site for the erection of the chapel. The next morning, at the domestic altar, my father, whose heart was full of the subject, resumed it there; and before the family had arisen from their knees, a knock was heard at the door. When it was opened, an old man entered, who possessed the spot which, of all others, seemed the most eligible, and who had hitherto been immovable. In his own provincial dialect, he said, "Well, Mr. Bennett, I am come about that ground you wanted for the chapel. I count you must have it after all. I have not been easy in my mind since I said 'No' to you. You are like to have it; and the sooner the better.” This was enough for my father. He was as ready to say, "The sooner the better," as was the old man himself. The terms, therefore, were easily agreed upon; and, upon the ground thus obtained, the chapel was erected.

A time of great spiritual prosperity seemed now to be vouchsafed to the comparatively infant cause of Methodism in Tempsford. It had not only triumphed in the cottages of the poor, and in the domestic circle of the farm-house, but had found success even in the mansions of the rich.* To my father these were some of the happiest days of his life. God blessed him in his worldly substance; and, what to him was a matter of much greater interest, the different members of his family, as they arrived at manhood, gave decided evidence of a work

• It is due to the memory of these pious ladies, whose history has become almost unavoidably interwoven with the present memoir, to say, that, after embracing true religion, and joining the Wesleyan society, they made a most decided stand in favour of the cause with which they were connected. The oldest daughter of Sir Gillis Payne (to take one instance out of the many that might be adduced) was for years in the habit of pasting the Preachers' Plan in a conspicuous part of her sitting-room, so that, when any of her visiters came in, it might at once attract their attention, and thus furnish an opportunity of introducing the subject of spiritual and personal religion. At one time it was contemplated to have Mr. Bennett removed from the village, that so, if possible, Methodism might be put down. On this occasion these ladies exerted their utmost influence; and not without success. In fact, they regarded him as, under God, their spiritual father; and deemed no sacrifice too great, by means of which they might be able to serve him.

of grace on the heart, renounced the world, and united themselves heartily to the church of Christ to which their father was attached. But, whilst he had these causes of rejoicing, he was to be reminded, that unmingled happiness was reserved for another and a very different state; and that here below the children of God are sooner or later to expect chastening in some form or other. For above thirty years the society of his much-loved wife had been granted to him. And this had been no ordinary blessing. She had shared his joys, solaced him in his sorrows, and counselled him in his difficulties. As a mother, her children alone knew the value of her affection and care for them. And the poor cottagers in the neighbourhood always found in her a sympathizing and generous friend. She was ever ready to visit them when sick, and to minister to their necessities; praying with them, and giving them spiritual advice and consolation. But God was about to take her

"From a suffering church beneath,
To a reigning church above."

From her youth she had been subject to a painful contraction of the throat; and having caught a severe cold, while on a visit to two of her sons who lived in Norfolk, the complaint in her throat was thereby made much worse. The aperture through which alone food could pass became so extremely narrow as to threaten death by starvation. All that medical skill could devise was tried, but to no effect. Her sufferings were very severe, and she gradually wasted away till she was scarcely a shadow of her former self. But though she was thus severely tried, she was most mercifully supported; and the Christian graces which had so long adorned her character in active life, shone not less brightly in this season of acute and protracted suffering. Often did she repeat that beautiful and pathetic hymn,

"My sufferings all to thee are known,

Tempted in every point like me :
Regard my grief, regard thy own,
Jesus, remember Calvary!

"Art thou not touch'd with human woe?
Hath pity left the Son of man?
Dost thou not all my sorrows know,
And claim a share in all my pain?"

She had no struggle with the world. That had no charms for her. Sometimes, when she looked at her family, and at the tender years of her only daughter, she felt a wish to be spared a little longer for their sakes. But she was enabled to commit all-her family as well as herself to the care of her merciful and heavenly Father, and thus, in perfect calmness, to notice the approaches of death, and to wait the

moment of her release from suffering, and of her introduction to that "full felicity" which she so earnestly desired. She at length departed in the peace and triumph of faith, December 1st, 1814.

To her numerous family this could not fail to be a very heavy bereavement; but to Mr. Bennett himself the loss was the greatest. All who were about him saw how pungent was his grief; but still they saw that it was resigned grief. He was often seen in tears, and heard to say, "Hath the Lord given, and hath he not a right to take away? Who am I, that I should call in question the goodness of my heavenly Father?" His habits of self-denial had greatly fitted him to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ; besides which, his strong belief of the doctrine of a particular Providence gave him the constant conviction, (as he was often heard to express himself,) that not a hair of his head should be touched without his heavenly Father's notice. He was thus led to see the hand of God in all that took place in respect to himself, and enabled to sustain the most painful trials with truly Christian fortitude.

The death of my mother was connected with other events, which appeared for the time very trying to the Methodist society at Tempsford. Several of the older branches of the family left home to reside elsewhere; and the pious ladies, above mentioned, likewise removed from the village. My father, however, who had for many years watched over the little flock with paternal affection, was still continued to them; and he had the satisfaction of seeing other members of his family coming forward to join that portion of the church to which their father belonged, and thus supplying the vacancies occasioned by the removal of their brothers.

After remaining a widower about two years and a half, my father believed it to be his duty again to enter into the marriage state, and to place his domestic affairs under the superintendence of a wife. He married Mrs. Elizabeth Macum, who now survives him. Shortly afterwards, he himself entered on a course of personal suffering, which continued, with more or less severity, to the end of his life; so that he was soon convinced that the more active period of his usefulness had now passed away. His affliction occasionally assumed so distressing a character, that he was several times thought to be on the verge of the grave; and had not his constitution been very strong, he must have sunk long before he did. But in his case it was evident, that “the fear of the Lord tendeth unto life." His constitution was naturally good; and not only had it never been injured by sinful excesses of any kind, but it really had been improved by temperance, exercise, and a contented and happy state of mind. But, though this soundness of constitution checked the mortal power of the disease, it by no means diminished the sufferings which it had a tendency to produce; and there were times when his recovery appeared hopeless, even to his medical attendants. One of these occasions deserves to be particu