Some miles short of Lincoln, our postboy stopped at an inn on the road to give his horses a little water. As soon as we went in, the innkeeper burst into tears, as did his wife, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly. "What!" he said, "are you come into my house! My father is John Lester, of Epworth." I found both he and his wife had been of our society till they left them. We spent some time in prayer together, and I trust not in vain.
The Journal of John Wesley
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