160 History of Methodism 



pie each time. This is a poor place for religion. Here I was met 

 by Brother Henry Willis. 



Tuesday, 10. Kode to Wappetaw. It was no small comfort to 

 me to see a very good frame prepared for the erection of a meeting- 

 house for us, on that very road along which, last year, we had gone 

 pensive and distressed, without a friend to entertain us. 



Wednesday, 11. Preached at Saint Clair Capers's, We had a good 

 time and many hearers, considering that neither place nor weather 

 was favorable. My soul enjoyed great peace, and I was much en- 

 gaged with God that my labors might not be in vain. From Ca- 

 pers's I came to Cain hoy by water. 



Friday, 13. I came to Charleston ; being unwell, Brother Willis 

 supplied my place. 



Sunday, 15. We had a solemn time in the day, and a full house 

 and good time in the evening. My heart was much taken up with 

 God. Our congregations are large, and our people are encouraged 

 to undertake the building of a meeting-house this year. Charleston 

 has suffered much — a fire about 1700, again in November, 1740, and 

 lastly the damage sustained by the late war. The city is now in a 

 flourishing condition. 



Friday, 20. I left the city, and found the road so bad that I was 

 thankful I had left my carriage and had a saddle and a good pair of 

 boots. We were water-bound at Wasmassaw, where I found a few 

 who had been awakened by the instrumentality of our preachers. 



Monday, 23. The Wasmassaw being still impassable, we directed 

 our course up the lowlands through the wild woods, until we came 

 to Mr. Winter's, an able planter who would have us to dine with 

 him and stay the night. His wife's mother being ill, and desiring 

 the sacrament, we went to her apartment and there had a melting, 

 solemn time. In this worthy family we had prayer night and 

 morning. 



Tuesday, 24. We made an early start. We stopped at a tavern 

 for breakfast. The landlord had seen and heard me preach three 

 years before in Virginia, and would receive no pay. We rode to 

 the Congaree, and lodged where there was a set of gamblers. I 

 neither ate bread nor drank water with them. We left early next 

 morning, and, after riding nine miles, came to afire, where, stopping 

 and broiling our bacon, we had a high breakfast. At Weaver's Ferry 

 we crossed the Saluda. Here once lived that strange, deranged mor- 

 tal who proclaimed himself to be God. Report says that he killed 

 three men for refusing their assent to his godshjp ; he gave out his 



