After church an English gentleman invited me to his country house, not half a mile from the town. I scarcely ever saw so pretty a place. The garden before the house was in three partitions, each quite different from the others. The house lay between this and another garden (nothing like any of the others), from which you looked through a beautiful summer house, washed by a small stream, into rich pastures filled with cattle. We sat under an arbor of stately trees, between the front and the back gardens. Here were four such children (I suppose seven, six, five, and three years old) as I never saw before in one family; such inexpressible beauty and innocence shone together!
The Journal of John Wesley
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