Mon. 22 Aug 1743. After a few of us had joined in prayer, about four I set out and rode softly to Snow Hill, where the saddle slipping quite upon my mare’s neck, I fell over her head, and she ran back into Smithfield. Some boys caught her and brought her to me again, cursing and swearing all the way. I spoke plainly to them, and they promised to amend. I was setting forward when a man cried, ‘Sir, you have lost your saddle-cloth.’ Two or three more would needs help me to put it on; but these two swore at almost every word. I turned to one and another and spoke in love. They all took it well and thanked me much. I gave them two or three little books, which they promised to read over carefully.
Before I reached Kensington I found my mare had lost a shoe. This gave me opportunity of talking closely for near half an hour, both to the smith and his servant. I mention these little circumstances to show how easy it is to redeem every fragment of time (if I may so speak) when we feel any love to those souls for which Christ died.
