ished work, and for months he begged subscriptions for it wherever he went. One of the first masters was John Cennick, author of the well-known hymn, "Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb." Afterward Cennick became a Calvinist.

The colliers' school was a happy success, and in 1746, when Wesley's plans for what would now be called secondary education had ripened, he selected a site in the same village for his new institution. It was a peaceful spot, remote from highroads and with abundant room for large gardens. In a conversation at the Conference of 1748 Wesley said, "We design to train up children there, if God permit, in every branch of useful learning, from the very alphabet till they are fit as to all acquired qualifications for the work of the ministry." The great evangelist sketched his scheme before his friends and helpers. The time-table was so full that a natural objection was made that it left no opportunity for the boys to play. "No," rejoined Wesley, "he that plays when he is a child will play when he is a man." The master of logic was betrayed into a gross fallacy here, and it vitiated much of his work at Kingswood. But his heart was in his task. He contributed largely to the funds from the proceeds of his fellowship, and found a noble benefactor who sympathized with his desire to establish a school worthy of the apostolic age, and gave him first £500 and then £300 for his building.

The school was opened on June 24, 1748, by the Wesleys. John preached from the text, "Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it." After the communion service the brothers retired to draw up the rules for their new institution. Provision was made for receiving fifty children, and on the front of the building was inscribed its famous motto, "In Gloriam Dei Optimi Maximi, In Usum Ecclesiæ et Reipublicæ." Below was written, "Jehovah Jireh" in Hebrew characters. Wesley's rules for his model school were very strict. Parents handed over their boys to the entire control of the master with an agreement that they should observe all the rules of the house. No boy was to be taken "from school, no, not a day, till they take him for good and all." The children had to rise at four, both in winter and summer, and after an hour given to private reading

and prayer they met for public worship. "From six," say the rules, "they work till breakfast; for as we have no playdays (the school being taught every day in the year but Sunday), so neither do we allow any time for play on any day. He that plays when he is a child will play when he is a man.” This was a German proverb which Wesley fondly calls "wise," and to which he adds the question, "If not, why should he learn now what he must unlearn by and by?" But, if the boys were not allowed to play, they were encouraged to work in the garden, to chop wood, to draw water, and to engage in other useful exercise. Despite its hard rules Kingswood was not unpopular. Within a few months after it was opened there were twenty-eight pupils, each of whom paid fourteen pounds for board, teaching, and books. Wesley set his heart on securing masters "who were truly devoted to God, who sought nothing on earth, neither pleasure, nor ease, nor profit, nor the praise of men." These were high qualifications, but some of the masters possessed them in no small degree. One of them was William Spencer, of whom John Cennick wrote to Wesley on August 16, 1740, as follows:

DR. BROTHER-I write now to ask your mind about letting Wm. Spencer be a sort of Usher to ye school at Kingswood under me, so might fifteen or twenty Boys more be brought up, to yo Good of them, and to ye satisfying y° inquisitive people, who are always asking for more Masters. You are perswaided I cannot alway be there. Yet so often as I cou'd an Hour or more of a day perhap's I might, and in that I might show him what to do. He can write and cast account well, and wou'd be content with Food & Rayment. This, I believe, we (that is, our Society) cou'd afford. Yet, dr Sir, if it be not according to your will, speak and I have done. He is teas'd at Home, and to get from them looks to Jamaica. I think 'tis better to abide here.

Mr. Spencer did good service in the colliers' school and was transferred to the boarding school. The whole household shared the same temper. Mary Davey, the housekeeper wrote to Wesley:

The spirit of this family is a resemblance of the household above. As far as I can discern they are given up to God, and pursue but the one great end. If any is afraid this school will eclipse and darken others, or that it will train up soldiers to proclaim open war against the god of this world, I believe it is not a groundless fear. For if God continue to

bless 66 us, one of these little ones shall chase a thousand." I doubt not but there will arise ambassadors for the King of kings from this obscure spot, that shall spread His glory all abroad, and bring many souls unto the knowledge of the truth.

At first things went well, but when Wesley visited Kingswood in July, 1749, he found that the rules had not been observed. The maids were divided into two parties, and the flames were studiously fanned by the constant whispering of a tale-bearing manservant. Mary Davey herself was found wanting. "The children were not properly attended, nor were things done with due care and exactness." All this might have been remedied, but the masters were not faithful. Richard Moss" was grave and weighty in his behavior, and did much good," Wesley says, until Walter Sellon "set the children against him, and, instead of restraining them from play, played with them himself." The following year Wesley was so troubled that he expressed surprise that he was withheld from dropping a design attended by such continual difficulty. Changes and expulsions cleared the atmosphere, and in June, 1751, Wesley writes of his diminished but purified establishment, "I believe all in the house are at length of one mind, and trust God will bless us in the latter end more than in the beginning." Two years later he has to speak again of his struggles. "Surely," he says, "the importance of this design is apparent, even from the difficulties that attend it. I have spent more money and time and care on this than almost any design I ever had, and still it exercises all the patience I have. But it is worth all the labor."

In 1756 the Conference in Bristol agreed that a short account of the design and present state of the school should be read in every society and annual subscriptions and collections made for its support. This raised it to the dignity of a connectional institution, though the financial results were modest. A few preachers' boys were admitted free, but Kingswood was still a boarding school for the sons of the laity. An old account book for 1764 to 1770, preserved at the school, shows that a "sute of cloathes" cost about £2. 6. 0. The long coat was of broadcloth; there was a vest and a pair of kneebreeches. Stockings were from eighteenpence to two shil

lings and fourpence a pair. One boy indulges in a new wig at a cost of six shillings, a pair of gloves at tenpence. His great coat is turned into a straight one, with new trimmings, for three shillings and sixpence. This same boy fig ures again in the records: "To pocket money for a year and a Hatt and A Bottle for his head 3s. 3d., to ye Doctor for sore head 10s. 6d., to doctor's bill for sore breast 16s. 6d." Of Willie Darney, a preacher's lad, there is this brief but touching record, "Physic 2s., to doctor's bill £1. 3s. 9d., to coffin, shroud, etc., 19s."

In April, 1768, when Joseph Benson and James Hindmarsh were masters at Kingswood, a great revival broke out. Hindmarsh wrote to tell Wesley the good news. "We have no need to exhort them to pray," he said, "for that spirit runs through the whole school; so that this house may well be called a house of prayer.'" Eight boys found peace whilst he was writing, and he opened his letter to report that two more were rejoicing in God, their Saviour. "This," he adds, "is the day we have wished for so long; the day you have had in view, which has made you go through so much opposition for the good of these poor children." Wesley's heart was gladdened in September when he visited Kingswood. "All behave in such a manner," he wrote, "that I have seen no other schoolboys like them." The numbers rose till there were nearly fifty boarders. The masters were now overburdened, and the exact order possible in a smaller school could not be maintained. "However," says Wesley, "this still comes nearer a Christian school than any I know in the kingdom." In 1770 there were thirteen days of spiritual tension which could not fail to be injurious to excitable boys. Wesley found next year that the effects of this upheaval had disappeared. "I spent an hour," he says, "among our children at Kingswood. It is strange. How long shall we be constrained to weave Penelope's web? What is become of the wonderful work of grace which God wrought in them last September! It is gone! It is lost! It is vanished away! There is scarce any trace of it remaining! Then we must begin again; and in due time we shall reap, if we faint not."

Ten years later Wesley again complains of the state of

things: "I found some of the rules had not been observed at all, particularly that of rising in the morning. Surely Satan has a peculiar spite at this school! What trouble has it cost me for above these thirty years! I can plan; but who will execute? I know not; God help me!" Besides the boys Wesley made provision for the training of more advanced students. It was in this capacity that Adam Clarke made his unfortunate acquaintance with Kingswood in August, 1782. He was sent here by Wesley to prepare for the ministry, but Mr. Simpson, the head master, received him very coolly. He advised the Irish youth to go to Bristol and await Wesley's instructions. But this was idle talk for a man who had only three halfpence in his pocket. Clarke had to stay, but he was made as uncomfortable as possible. He was confined to his room, where the maid brought him his solitary meals. Mrs. Simpson, whom Clarke described as the "Bengal Tiger," suspected that he had the itch, and he was compelled to rub himself with Jackson's ointment, a ceremony which introduced him to the only fire he saw at Kingswood. A change of sheets was refused him, and for about ten days his box was left lying at the inn in Bristol, so that he had no change of clothes and was forced to bear about him by day and night the "infernal unguent." He had bread and milk for breakfast, for dinner, and for supper; he was left to make his own bed, sweep his own room, and perform all the other duties of a chambermaid. His duran ce lasted for three weeks. His fingers were benumbed with cold, but Mr. Simpson would not allow him to have a fire. He advised him to try some form of physical exertion from which, however, he was forced away by the redoubtable "Bengal Tiger," who never seemed happy unless she was driving everything before her. Working in the garden here Clarke found half a guinea. No owner could be discovered, and Mr. Simpson refused to accept it for the school. It thus remained in Adam's hands. It enabled him to subscribe for a Hebrew grammar published by the second master. The foundations of his scholarship were thus laid in the uncongenial atmosphere of Kingswood. Wesley's return brought sunshine for Clarke. He was differently treated when it was found that he enjoyed the favor of the founder.