And at times I had heavy losses. At Manchester once, after giving five
lectures, I was eleven pounds out of pocket. At Birmingham I had a loss
of thirty-seven pounds on five lectures. That was about the hardest week
I ever had. My tongue got rather white. My food lost its relish. My
thoughts kept me awake after I lay down in bed sometimes, and sometimes
awoke me after I had gone to sleep. I caught myself drawing long breaths
at times. Money came into my head at prayer, though none came into my
pocket. I did not even ask for that. I met with Combe's work on
digestion and read it, but it did not help me much, either in digesting
my food, or my heavy loss. But I made no complaints. I did not even tell
my wife till long after, when I was prosperous and comfortable again.
And none of those who heard my lectures, saw in me any sign of
discouragement. I lectured to my small audience as earnestly as if the
vast amphitheatre had been crowded. And I paid the whole loss out of my
own pocket, asking help from neither stranger nor friend.
Just about this time Mr. Hulme, the son-in-law of my chief persecutor,
set afloat a story that I was getting immensely rich by my lectures, and
demanded that I should hand over my gains to the Connexional funds.
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