tive and particular facts, not because I have none, but because those in my possession, if published, would terribly chastise men whom I wish to spare, and of whose improvement in the virtues of Christian justice and honour I am willing to entertain a hope.

While belonging to the Bramley Circuit I had numerous invitations to address large Missionary meetings in Leeds and Bradford. I was delighted with the courtesy and hospitality connected with these temporary honours. I went also into other neighbouring circuits for the same purpose,

At Cullingworth, I was most generously and politely entertained as a visitor by G. T—, Esq., and, the accomplished young ladies of his family; at Bradford, by W. C, Esq.; and in other places, and on particular occasions, received every demonstration of respect and Christian affection. And I must here state my happy conviction that the first families in Methodism are as remarkable for humble and sincere piety as the poorest. As to Leeds, I cannot say too much in its favour on the score of kind and hospitable attentions. Numerous families, for whose names, I am grieved to say, I cannot find room, all treated me with a cordiality for which they deserve and have my best thanks.

CHAPTER XV.

LEYTON AND LONDON.

SECTION I.

LEYTON Circuit is, Methodistically considered, a great curiosity. I entered upon it in the beginning of September, 1851; existing difficulties in the circuit rendering it impossible for me to arrive sooner. To spare my own feelings, and those of others, I shall not tell the world what difficulties I refer to, nor so much as attempt to particularize my subsequent mental sufferings. The world has known prodigiously too much of late years of the troubles of the churches, and the interpretation it puts upon them is transferred to the side of infidelity. Popery looks upon doctrinal controversies and the multiplication of sects as an argument in favour of its "infallibility;" and infidelity pretends to consider disputes about ecclesiastical discipline, with all their pamphleteering, newspaper, and platform wars, an evidence against Christianity altogether.

Enough of this, and yet not too much. Let all whom it may concern take the hint, and, if they are

humble enough, improve by it. Avoid at once and for ever those pestiferous things called extreme opinions; the public agitation of which has, from time to time, laid the foundation of irreparable mischief.

Leyton is a pleasant village, five miles from London, and in the county of Essex. The Wesleyan chapels in the circuit, when I entered it, were Leyton, Waltham Abbey, Woodford, Woodford Bridge, and Copthall Green. The latter was soon sold to the Church people, and Woodford given up. The chapels are small, and the congregations not large.

The country all about Leyton, Walthamstow and Woodford, is exceedingly beautiful and lovely, -abundance of tall trees, and open spaces or green plots surrounded with stately mansions are numerous. The walks through the adjacent forest are exquisitely picturesque and romantic. The public roads are straight, level, clean, broad, and handsome in perfection. Abundance of elegant equipages are driving about in all directions. In most country villages the poor are greatly in the majority; in these parts the order seems reversed. At the end of a charming and majestic avenue, called “Chesnut Walk," a long promenade lined with tall chesnut trees, you come into a neighbourhood on the Woodford side of Leyton, and connected with Walthamstow and Snaresbrook, the most delicious as to rural landscape I ever beheld. All the houses for a considerable distance are large and beautiful; several noble roads running

in several directions, skirted by a vastly extended forest; and in the summer, the rich and luxuriant foliage of the trees, helping to complete as fine a terrestrial paradise as one can hope to witness on the surface of our planet. God, in his goodness, has made a beautiful world for us rebellious'sinners to dwell in! He has furnished a rich and unbounded variety of scenes to delight our imaginations. Pity it is our thoughts should be so much employed on our grievances and troubles, and greater pity still, we should ever offend so kind and indulgent a parent as the Maker of the universe, and the Saviour of sinners! Let us extract all the pleasure we can from the beautiful (as well as the sublime) in nature. Who can look at the inimitable gracefulness of a lofty tree on a summer's night, while the moon walks in brightness in a cloudless sky, and not praise God? Perhaps some will think the writer a ninny for making such ado and affecting so much sentimentalism about trees; but recollect that the man, whether learned or illiterate, is no great matter of a philosopher who cannot extract mental enjoyment from common objects. Innocent enjoyments derived from looking at things the million never notice, is a portion of happiness, a supplementary gratification, of which many great people on the one hand, and little people on the other, are deprived. Very learned men with no power of imagination, and very stupid men with the intellects of a whale or a walrus, can see nothing in trees but wood and leaves. Not so the man of taste. Yes, taste; which is the mental

power of receiving pleasure from subjects and objects in which millions take no delight, because they see no more in them that is interesting than they see in a brick wall, or a brewhouse.

In this circuit I could mention a number and variety of objects and localities which afford me gratification. The innumerable nooks and snuggeries in the depths of the forest where parties of pleasure from London and neighbouring places enjoy themselves in fun and frolic and feasting. Swarms of the tag-rag and bob-tail fraternity, also, with sticks and baskets, "lookin arter the blackberries," and returning loaded to the metropolis to make them into puddings, or sell them. Multitudes of pedestrians, equestrians, men, women and children, of all qualities, ages, and sizes, escaping from the smoke and noise of London's dense and tremendous population to ruralize and recreate in this far famed and deservedly famed country of

trees.

But I must not omit my dear old native town of Waltham Abbey. The reader cannot be expected to take any interest in what I may say of my native town, as he will doubtless prefer his own; but I shall write a line or two of reminiscences just to please myself, and if any body else should be pleased it will be all clear gain as to approbation.

I received a cordial welcome among old friends and schoolfellows at Waltham Abbey. I traverse, now and then, particular neighbourhoods in and about the town, and in all directions recollect something or other that I said or did here and