Monday, May 27th, 1765.  I took my leave of Londonderry.  Mr. Knox sent his servant to conduct me to Sligo, being now as affectionate as Mr. K., of Sligo, was the first time I was there.  Keeping a steady pace, we rode fifteen miles, so called, in four hours and a half, and came, at noon, to Ballimafay.  Here we were shown into a room, where lay a young man, brought near death by a vomiting of blood.  Perhaps we were brought into this room, at this time, to save a poor man’s life.  As we were riding through the mountains in the afternoon, we overtook one who was just come from Derry, and had heard me preach all the time I was there, both in the evening and the morning.  I talked plainly both to her and her husband, and they expressed all possible thankfulness.

At five, we reached Donegal, the county town.  What a wonderful set of county towns are in this kingdom!  Donegal, and five more, would not altogether make up such a town as Islington.  Some have twenty houses in them, Mayo three, and Leitrim, I think, not one.  Is this not owing, in part, to the fickleness of the nation, who seldom like anything long, and so are continually seeking new inhabitants, as well as new fashions, and new trifles of every kind? – John Wesley (1703-1791)


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