Page:The English Peasant.djvu/368

 If the seer had not been blinded Huntington would certainly have described the experience which now befel him under the simile of Israel going into captivity. In truth, both he and his admirers had fallen into idolatry. The great idol, William Huntington, S.S., must be pulled down, and share the fate of all other vanities. And now trouble followed upon trouble, disaster on disaster, until at last, in July 1810, came the utter destruction by fire of his beloved chapel, the scene of his triumphs, the monument of his greatest glory! Within two months death removed his only fellow-labourer. Next year witnessed the departure of Brook, and in the account given of the way in which Huntington received the news, we may learn the bitterness of his soul at this time.

He was walking in his garden, when his man asked him if he had heard anything from Brighton. "No," he replied. "Then," said the gardener, "I have to tell you, sir, that Mr Brook is dead." It was like a stab to the heart; he moved on without a word, but shortly returned, and with strong emotion said, "So Mr Brook is dead, is he, John? Well, mark this—James Brook is gone to heaven, and my house is a complete hell to me."

And he, too, was drawing near to his final account. Sad and dreary seem his last years. Occasionally a mournful word escapes him. But his outward prosperity continued great as ever. A new chapel had been built at a cost of £10,000. He removed to another house at Hermes Hill, Pentonville, his goods filling eight waggons this time! "How hardly shall they that have riches enter the kingdom of heaven."

However, he preached on, and there seemed no decay there though he was in terrible fear lest there should be.

More and more was he separated from his children and best friends; more and more was he driven into uncongenial society till he had a sort of little hermitage built in his garden, with thick walls and double doors and windows. But here he was not allowed peace. The idle boys who congregated in Copenhagen Fields used to throw stones at the windows, which so aggravated him that on one occasion he ran out and knocked a man down, and then immediately tried to atone for it by sending him a couple of guineas. In fact, he was often wretched, as many facts show. His wife was as close as he was generous, and she had almost, or, perhaps, even a stronger will than his own.