The Journal Of John Wesley

Monday, December 15. -- In the evening I preached at Miss Teulon's school in Highgate. I think it was the coldest night I ever remember. The house we were in stood on the edge of the hill, and the east wind set full in the window. I counted eleven, twelve, one, and was then obliged to dress, the cramp growing more and more violent. But in the morning, not only the cramp was gone, but likewise the lameness which used to follow it.

About this time I was reflecting on the gentle steps whereby age steals upon us. Take only one instance. Four years ago my sight was as good as it was at five-and-twenty. I then began to observe that I did not see things quite so clearly with my left eye as with my right; all objects appeared a little browner to that eye. I began next to find some difficulty in reading a small print by candlelight. A year after, I found it in reading such a print by daylight. In winter, 1786, I could not well read our four-shilling hymnbook unless with a large candle; the next year I could not read letters if written with a small or bad hand. Last winter a pearl appeared on my left eye, the sight of which grew exceedingly dim. The right eye seems unaltered; only I am a great deal neater-sighted than ever I was. Thus are "those that look out at the windows darkened"; one of the marks of old age. But I bless God, "the grasshopper is" not "a burden." I am still capable of traveling, and my memory is much the same as ever it was; and so, I think, is my understanding.