Thus it was not pretence, nor mere exclamation, when he said, years before this time, "Let the name of George Whitefield perish, if God be glorified." As I have often said, he only spoke strongly, when words could not fully express all he felt and meant. But his name will be imperishable, just by the little care he took to make it so: for he did imperishable work, without calculating upon any lasting reward in this world. No man, indeed, ever understood less, or proved more, the truth of the sacred oracle," He that loseth his life for my sake shall save it."

Bethesda was now to him " a Goshen-a Bethel." He was almost tempted to say, "It is good to be here;" but he said instead, "No nestling on this side eternity: all must give way to that divine employ-gospel ranging." This was his resolution, even while he could say, " Never did I enjoy such domestic peace, comfort, and joy during my whole pilgrimage. It is unspeakable and full of glory!" Strong as this language is, he used still stronger on leaving the institution, although fondly and fully expecting to return to it: "O Bethesda, my Bethel, my Peniel! My happiness is inconceivable. Hallelujah, Hallelujah! Let chapel-tabernacle-earth-heaven, rebound with Hallelujah! I can no more. My heart is too big to add more than my old ( name, Less than the least of all,' G. W." Letters. The vigour and versatility of his mind, at this time, may be estimated by the speech, which he wrote for one of the orphans to deliver, after the sermon before the governor and council. I venture to ascribe the authorship of it to Whitefield, because the document was found in his own hand-writing, by Dr. Gillies. This assumption involves, I am aware, the awkward fact, that he paid some compliments to himself. But the speech would have been unnatural and unacceptable, if, while complimenting the patrons of the institution, it had passed by the founder. Had Whitefield not made the orphan-boy thank him, who else in the assembly would have accepted public thanks? It is, however, for its beautiful simplicity I quote the document.

THE ORPHAN'S SPEECH. "When I consider where I stand, and before whom I am about to speak, no wonder that, previous to my rising, a trembling seized my limbs; and now, when risen, a throbbing seizes my heart, and, as a consequence of both, shame

and confusion cover my face. For what am I, (a poor unlettered orphan, unlearned almost in the very rudiments of my mothertongue, and totally unskilled in the persuasive arts of speaking!) that I should be called to speak before such a venerable, august assembly, as is this day convened under Bethesda's roof? But when I reflect, that I stand up at your command, reverend Sir, to whom, under God, I owe my little all; and when I further reflect on the well-known candour of those that compose this venerable and august assembly,-my trembling begins to abate, my throbbing ceases, and a gleam of hope breaks in, that the tongue of the stammerer will, in some degree, be able to speak plainly.

"But where shall I begin, and how express the various emotions that, within the last hour, have alternately agitated and affected my soul? If the eye, as I have been taught to think, is the looking-glass of the soul; and if the outward gestures and earnest attention, are indications expressive of the inward commotions and dispositions of the human heart; then, a heartfelt complacency and joy hath possessed the souls of many in this assembly, whilst the reverend founder hath been giving from the pulpit such a clear, succinct, and yet withal affecting account of the rise and progress of this orphan-house academy, and of the low estate of this now flourishing colony, when the first brick of this edifice was laid. All hail, that happy day! which we now commemorate, when about thirty-two years ago, in faith and fervent prayer, the first brick of this edifice was laid. Many destitute orphans were soon taken in, and without any visible fund, in the dearest part of his Majesty's dominions, more than fifty labourers were employed, and honourably paid, and a large orphanfamily, for these many years, hath been supported, clothed, and brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Oh, could these walls speak, could every chamber, every corner of this fabric speak, what agonizing supplications, what inwrought, energetic prayers would they tell us they had been witness to, and also of the blessed fruits of which we are now partakers! Behold! a once infant, deserted, despised colony, not only lifting up its drooping head, and, in some degree, overtopping, at least for trade, and increase, and extent of commerce, vying with some

of its neighbouring provinces. Behold the once despised institution! (the very existence of which was for many years denied,) through the indefatigable industry, unparalleled disinterestedness, and unwearied perseverance of its reverend founder, expanding and stretching its wings, not only to receive a larger number of helpless orphans like myself, but to nurse and cherish many of the present rising generation, training them up to be ornaments both in church and state. For ever adored be that Providence, that power and goodness, which hath brought matters to such a desirable and long-expected issue! Thanks, thanks be rendered to your Excellency, for the countenance you have always given to this beneficial plan, for laying the first brick of yonder wings, this time twelvemonth, and for the favour of your company on this our anniversary. Thanks to you, Mr. President, who have long been a fellow-helper in this important work, and have now the pleasure of seeing the fruit of all your labours. Thanks to the gentlemen of his Majesty's honourable council, and to the members of the general assembly, who so warmly recommended the utility of this institution. Thanks to you, Sir, who first opened it by preaching. Thanks to you, who left your native country, and, without fee or reward, have for many years laboured and watched over us in the Lord. Thanks to all who have this day honoured us with your presence. And above all, thanks, more than an orphan tongue can utter, or orphan hearts conceive, be, under God, rendered unto you, most honoured Sir, who have been so happily instrumental, in the hands of a never-failing God, in spreading his everlasting gospel."

CHAPTER XXIX.

WHITEFIELD AND THE NOBILITY.

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WHITEFIELD never sought the patronage of the great, nor ever employed it for any personal end. To the credit of his first noble friends, Lothian, Leven, and Rae, they sought his friendship because they admired his talents, and appreciated his character. They were won by the preaching which won the multitude; and when they wrote to him, he answered them just as he did any one else, who sought his counsel or prayers, courteously and faithfully. He paid them, indeed, the current compliments of his times and if these ever amount to flattery in appearance, they are followed by warnings which no real flatterer would have dared to whisper. In his first letters to the Marquis of Lothian, he said, " You do well, my Lord, to fear, lest your convictions should wear off.-Your Lordship is in a dangerous situation," in the world. "Come, then, and lay yourself at the feet of Jesus."-" As for praying in your family, I entreat you, my Lord, not to neglect it. You are bound to do it. Christ for strength to overcome your present fears. the effects of pride, or infidelity, or of both." These are not unfair specimens of Whitefield's correspondence with the Scotch. nobles, who honoured him with their confidence. Upon some of the English noblemen, who were brought to hear him by Lady Huntingdon, his influence was equally great and good.

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Amongst his friends were, also," honourable women not a few." I wish I could say of his compliments to them, all that I have said of his general influence upon their "order" but I cannot. I cannot even qualify, after long rejudging, the opinion I have given of his letters to them. True; they needed and deserved

"strong consolation," in order to resist the strong temptations presented by a frivolous court, a witty peerage, and a learned bench, in favour of a formal religion. Nothing but "the joy of the Lord" could have sustained them in such a sphere. Whitefield judged well, therefore, in not plying the peeresses with the same warnings he addressed to the peers. Happiness in religion was the best security for their holiness. They could not be laughed out of a good hope through grace. Wit and banter may make the fear of perishing seem a weakness or a fancy; but they cannot make hope, peace, or joy, seem absurd. Neither the rough jibes of Warburton, nor the polished sarcasms of Chesterfield and Bolingbroke, could touch the consciousness of peace in believing, or of enjoyment in secret prayer, in the hearts of those peeresses who had found, at the cross and the mercy-seat, the happiness they had sought in vain from the world. Whitefield knew this, and ministered to their comfort. What I regret, therefore, is, that he mingled more compliment with consolation than was wise or seemly. Each of "the twelve manner" of ripe fruits on the tree of life, requires to be served up in its own "leaves;" and needs no other garnishing.

eloquent. The Lady Guildford beauty to hear

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But if Whitefield's letters to the peeresses were not always manly, his lectures to the "brilliant circle" at Lady Huntingdon's were evidently as faithful as they were well-known Countess of Suffolk found them so. prevailed on Lady Huntingdon to admit this Whitefield. He, however, knew nothing of her presence. drew his bow at a venture: but every arrow seemed aimed at her. She just managed to sit out the service, in silence; and when Whitefield retired, she flew into fury; abused Lady Huntingdon to her face, and denounced the sermon as a deliberate attack on herself. In vain Lady Betty Jermain tried to appease the beautiful fury, or to explain her mistake. In vain old Lady Bertie and the Duchess dowager of Ancaster commanded her silence. She maintained that she had been insulted. She was compelled, however, by her relatives who were present, to apologize to Lady Huntingdon. Having done this with a bad grace, she left to return no more.

Horace Walpole, unwittingly, has borne testimony to the faith