Here they eat, drink, pray, sing, hear confessions,
and make converts. To these meetings I never got invited, and
therefore I have nothing but hearsay evidence to offer, but my
information comes from an eye-witness, and one on whom I believe
I may depend. If one half of what I heard may be believed, these
social prayer meetings are by no means the most curious, or the
least important part of the business.
It is impossible not to smile at the close resemblance to be
traced between the feelings of a first-rate Presbyterian or
Methodist lady, fortunate enough to have secured a favourite
Itinerant for her meeting, and those of a first-rate London Blue,
equally blest in the presence of a fashionable poet. There is a
strong family likeness among us all the world over.
The best rooms, the best dresses, the choicest refreshments
solemnize the meeting. While the party is assembling, the
load-star of the hour is occupied in whispering conversations
with the guests as they arrive. They are called brothers and
sisters, and the greetings are very affectionate. When the room
is full, the company, of whom a vast majority are always women,
are invited, intreated, and coaxed to confess before their
brothers and sisters, all their thoughts, faults, and follies.
These confessions are strange scenes; the more they confess, the
more invariably are they encouraged and caressed. When this is
over, they all kneel, and the Itinerant prays extempore.
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