On Tuesday I proceeded to Dumfries, not very gospel friendly I must say. Some sparks there, but that’s better than apathy, at least you know something is getting through. Some stood to listen, but only to mock. One young lady reviled me to my face in very strong language. Many from a distance expressed a wish that I would go away. But I refused, until I finished, delivered the message of the gospel, the good news for even the hardened sinners of Dumfries. I proceeded from there to Stranraer, on the Scottish coast, alas I wasn’t able to preach there, the town centre was being renovated, all dug up. So I got the ferry to Belfast arriving in time for the evening meeting at the Congregational Reformed Church. I was made very welcome by Rev William Malcolmson and his lovely flock. I was asked to give a report of our work in North Staffordshire and to preach the word of God. It was a delight to have their fellowship and to continue on with their prayerful support too.

On Wednesday morning I knew where I was as I looked out the window, it was raining, I was in Ireland. But I mean raining, like you just could not preach on the street, that was a big disappointment, it was the only venue that I missed all week, not bad really for November. So with Raymond Stewart, of Reformation Ireland, together we proceeded to Dublin City. The journey was interesting, hearing of the stories behind some of the places that we passed, things pertaining to the times of trouble. We called in at Lisburn hoping to preach there, but the rain persisted. That evening I preached at Arann Reformed Baptist Church, south of Dublin. That too was a great delight, a fairly new work, but going on well, they listened well. It was a joy to share fellowship with folk after the meeting, fellowship I mean, talking about the word and the Lord of the word, that’s something that’s quite rare in churches today also. The hospitality I received was beautiful, refreshing.

On Thursday along with three others we proceeded to Dublin City to preach. A good deal of literature was given out and some useful conversations were held. A young man by the name of Owen, who had been to a Jesuit College, couldn’t accept the deity of Christ. We debated with him somewhat, but it was just going round in circles in the end. I said to him to go home and read John’s gospel, nothing else, just John’s gospel, over and over and over, nothing else, with the question in mind, who and what is Jesus Christ, and don’t stop till you know the answer to that question. Whether he will, the Lord knows. Mark Fitzpatrick the Pastor of Arann Church who was with us had a number of conversations too. One Christian man with no fellowship to go to was encouraged to come to the Arann church. On the way back to Belfast, Raymond and I went into Drogheda on the coast. In the centre there’s a large Roman Catholic church, Raymond took me in to see the relics that are worshiped there, one named Mr Plunkett who was burned for his heresies in the 1600’s at Tyburn, it’s his bones that are adored, probably the bones of someone’s deceased dog. As we came out of the said establishment, at the top of the steps leading down to the street, there was a whole bunch of people waiting for a bus, it was too good to miss. I preached Jesus Christ to them, till the bus came.

A good calm sea carried me back to Scotland on Friday morning, managing to get to Dumfries in time to preach there again. It was no less frosty, the folk I mean. But a good deal more people around. A good number of youngsters out from school, most being rather silly as they do. One youngster among them rather interestingly, as the group moved away separated from them and came to me apologising for his fellow pupil’s behaviour, I thought that was very gracious and courageous of him, maybe he is a Christian. As I walked back to the car one man retorted, "I’m glad you’ve shut up". I guess that speaks for Dumfries, they were glad to see me gone. But who knows maybe there is a remnant, who knows, maybe just one? That would make the whole trip worthwhile, wouldn’t it? What value would you place on a man’s soul?

Saturday, last day of the trip. Carlisle seemed unresponsive, except for one man who encouraged. About time somebody was doing something here he said. But sometimes it’s in those unresponsive days that the Lord is working best, we don’t always get to see what he is doing. Our place is to be faithful stewards of the gospel delivered unto the saints. Final venue, Lancaster on the way down home. The City was packed, market stalls everywhere, I thought I wasn’t going to get a place, but there was a corner in the Square reserved for me. As I set up my soap-box, a family with two children began encouraging, the lady said how we needed to be reminded of these things, meaning the text on my soap-box, that "Christ died for the ungodly". The two boys asked if they could have gospels, referring to Mum I asked if that was good, to which she answered in the affirmative. Two happy boys went away clutching gospel booklets. May they always so esteem the gospel of our Saviour, which is yet the power of God unto salvation. I preached for sometime, many, many people around, I found myself wishing I lived closer to Lancaster, what a golden opportunity. There were a good number of folk sat in front of me having their lunch, none seemed disposed to move, it was good. As I finished a young teenage girl came and asked for a gospel. Shortly after another young lady asked for some literature also.