“This Is No Mazed Man”

Sunday, August 31.—At five I preached in Gwennap to several thousands, but not one of them light or inattentive.  After I had done, the storm arose and the rain poured down till about four in the morning; then the sky cleared, and many of them that feared God gladly assembled before Him.

Monday, September 1.—I preached at Penryn, to abundantly more than the house could contain.

Tuesday, 2.—We went to Falmouth. The town is not now what it was ten years since; all is quiet from one end to the other. I had thoughts of preaching on the hill near the church; but the violent wind made it impracticable, so I was obliged to stay in our own room. The people could hear in the yard likewise and the adjoining houses; and all were deeply attentive.

Wednesday, September 3.—After preaching again to a congregation who now appeared ready to devour every word, I walked up to Pendennis castle, finely situated on the high point of land which runs out between the bay and the harbor and commanding both. It might easily be made exceedingly strong; but our wooden castles are sufficient.

In the afternoon we rode to Helstone, once turbulent enough, but now quiet as Penryn. I preached at six, on a rising ground about a musket-shot from the town. Two drunken men strove to interrupt, but one soon walked away, and the other leaned on his horse’s neck and fell fast asleep.

About noon, Friday, 5, I called on W. Row, in Breage, in my way to Newlyn. “Twelve years ago,” he said, “I was going over Gulval Downs and I saw many people together. I asked what was the matter, and they told me a man was going to preach.  I said, ‘Nay, this is no mazed man.’ You preached on God’s raising the dry bones, and from that time I could never rest till God was pleased to breathe on me and raise my dead soul.”