22 April 1748 – 28 April 1748

I read, some hours, an extremely dull book, Sir James Ware’s Antiquities of Ireland. By the vast number of ruins which are seen in all parts, I had always suspected what he sows at large, namely, that in ancient times it was more populous, tenfold, than it is now; many that were large cities being now ruinous heaps; many shrunk into inconsiderable villages. I visited one in the afternoon who was ill of a fever, and lay in a very close room. While I was near him, I found myself not well. After my return home, I felt my stomach out of order. But I imagined it was not worth any notice and would pass off before the morning.

I preached at Skinner’s Alley at five; and on Oxmantown Green at eight. I was weak in body, but was greatly revived by the seriousness and earnestness of the congregation. Resolving to improve the opportunity, I gave notice of preaching there again in the afternoon; which I did to a congregation much more numerous and equally attentive. As I came home I was glad to lie down, having a quinsy attended with a fever. However, when the society met, I made a shift to creep in among them. Immediately my voice was restored. I spoke without pain for nearly an hour together. And great was our rejoicing over each other; knowing that God would order all things well.

Finding my fever greatly increased, I judged it would be best to keep my bed and to live awhile on apples and apple-tea. On Tuesday I was quite well and should have preached but that Dr. Rutty (who had been with me twice) insisted on my resting for a time. I read today what is accounted the most correct history of St. Patrick that is extant; and, on the maturest consideration, I was much inclined to believe that St. Patrick and St. George were of one family. The whole story smells strong of romance.

Thursday, 28, was the day fixed for my going into the country: but all about me began to cry out, “Sure, you will not go today? See how the rain pours down!” I told them, “I must keep my word, if possible.” But before five, the man of whom I had bespoken a horse sent word that his horse should not go out in such a day. I sent one who brought him to a better mind. So about six I took horse. About nine I called at Killcock. Between one and two we came to Kinnegad. My strength was now pretty well exhausted; so that when we mounted again, after resting an hour, it was as much as I could do to sit my horse. We had nearly eleven Irish (measured) miles to ride, which are equal to fourteen English. I got over them pretty well in three hours, and by six reached Tyrrel’s Pass. At seven I recovered my strength so as to preach and meet the society, which began now to be at a stand with regard to number, but not with regard to the grace of God.