_To Mrs. ――――._
_Boston, Feb. 17, 1745._
_Dear Madam_,
THIS leaves me just retired from my spiritual levee. Our good friend
Mr. _S――――_ tells me, while I am here he looks upon his house not as
his own, but mine. His parlour is large, and I sit there to receive
gospel visitants. Good Mr. _P――――_ told me some time ago, that I should
shortly be favoured with the company of a very pensive and uncommon
person; a man of good parts, ready wit, and lively imagination, and
who had made it his business, in order to furnish matter for preaching
over a bottle, to come and hear, and then carry away scraps of my
sermons, which it seems were to serve as texts or theses for his
tavern harangues. A few nights ago he came for this purpose to Doctor
_S――――_’s meeting; upon my coming in, he crouded after amongst the
people, and having got sufficient matter to work upon as he thought,
attempted to go out; but being pent in on every side, he found his
endeavours fruitless. Obliged thus to stay, and looking up to me,
waiting for some fresh matter for ridicule, GOD was pleased to prick
him to the heart. He came to Mr. _P――――_ full of horror, confessed
his crimes, and longed to ask my pardon, but was afraid to see me.
Mr. _P――――_ encouraged him to venture. This morning hearing somebody
knock at the parlour door, I arose, and upon opening the door, by the
paleness, pensiveness, and horror of his countenance, guessed I had
met with the person of whom Mr. _P――――_ had apprized me. Immediately
he cried with a low but plaintive voice, “Sir, can you forgive me?” I
smiled and said, “Yes, Sir, very readily.” Indeed, replied he, Sir, you
cannot when I tell you all, I then asked him to sit down; and judging
that he had sufficiently felt the lashes of the law, I preached to
him the gospel. That it may be the power of GOD through faith unto his
eternal salvation, you will join in praying, dear madam, with
Yours, &c.
_G. W._