“I think I mentioned to you that our mutual friend Cox had the living of Bridgenorth presented to him. He has been there now some months, but he labours under very great discouragement, owing to the little effect resulting from his ministrations. A few weeks ago he wished that we should exchange duties, hoping that my Methodistical zeal might arouse them. After an enumeration of the probable consequences to which he must make up his mind, I at length consented, and, as I supposed, the stir has been great; rascal, villain, ranter, field preacher, are the usual epithets attached to my opprobrious name. A petition has been drawn up, with many signatures attached, requesting Cox to forbid me his pulpit; in short, the whole place has been in a hubbub. Inquiry, however, begins to take place, the stagnant waters are moved, and after the working off of the scum and the grosser particles, we may expect to see purer and even living waters. Cox answered their petition with becoming spirit, united with pleasing conciliation. It has, I find, given great offence, notwithstanding all; but we wait for the issue in a spirit of prayer. It is somewhat remarkable that Bridgenorth was the place in which Richard Baxter, author of the “Saint’s Rest,” met with such decided opposition, that as he went out of the town, he shook off the dust of his feet as a testimony against them; and, since that time, no preached gospel has prospered among them. The Dissenters and even the warm-hearted Methodists have hitherto laboured almost in vain. But who knows how soon the curse may be removed? We keep encouraging Cox all that we possibly can, but he seems determined at present to leave. Unite your prayers, my dear friend, with ours, that he may not be permitted to desert this wilderness and solitary place, but that he may patiently wait till he rejoices over it as a peculiarly verdant spot in the garden of our Lord.”