Tuesday, 19.--Between twelve and one, I preached at Freshford; on White's Hill, near
Bradford, in the evening. By this means many had an opportunity of hearing who would
not have come to the room. I had designed to preach there again the next evening, but a
gentleman in the town desired me to preach at his door. The beasts of the people were tolerably quiet till I had nearly finished my sermon. They then lifted up their voices, especially
one, called a gentleman, who had filled his pocket with rotten eggs. But, a young man
coming unawares clapped his hands on each side and mashed them all at once. In an instant
he was perfume all over, though it was not so sweet as balsam.
The Journal of John Wesley
The Journal of John Wesley
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