The Story of John Wesley Part 12

G.o.d sent His angel to close the lions' mouths so they would not harm Daniel; and the same messenger walked in the fiery furnace with the three Hebrew youths. So, when Mr. Wesley went straight into the market-place in Wednesbury, and fearlessly preached to the hundreds a.s.sembled there, G.o.d's protecting angel breathed silence and calm; not a sound of disturbance was heard. In the evening the mob surrounded the house where Mr. Wesley was staying, shouting out fiercely:

"Bring out the minister! We will have the minister!"

Mr. Wesley, neither frightened nor excited, quietly asked one of his friends to bring in the ringleader of the mob. The man came in, anger and fierceness in his eyes. But, somehow, as soon as he stood in the presence of that calm, Christ-like man, all his pa.s.sion went out of him.

Mr. Wesley then asked him to bring in two or three of his roughest companions. The angry men came in. They had wanted to get at the minister, now they had the chance. But once inside that room, they found they could not touch him. They felt the presence of G.o.d's protecting angel, and peace took the place of pa.s.sion, and friendliness the place of hatred. Getting Mr. Wesley between them, these strange, new friends made a way for him through the mob outside the house.

Then, standing on a chair, Mr. Wesley spoke to the crowd.

"You wanted me," he said. "Here I am. Now what do you want me for?"

"We want you to go with us to the magistrate," they cried.

"I will go with you with all my heart," he replied.

So away went the brave amba.s.sador for Christ, accompanied by hundreds of the roughest men and women in Wednesbury.

It was two miles to the magistrate's house, and before they had got half-way the night came on, and it began to rain very heavily. This made most of the people turn back and hurry home, but two hundred or more kept together round Mr. Wesley.

Some of the men ran on first to tell the magistrate they'd got the Methodist preacher. Instead of seeming pleased, the magistrate said:

"What have I to do with Mr. Wesley? Take him back again." So he sent them off, and went to bed.

By and by the crowd came up to the house, and knocked at the door. When the magistrate's son went to them and asked what was the matter, they said:

"Why, please, sir, these Methodists sing psalms all day, and make folks get up at five o'clock in the morning, and what would your wors.h.i.+p advise us to do?"

"To go home and be quiet," replied the gentleman.

Finding they could get no help from this magistrate, they hurried poor Mr. Wesley off to another. This gentleman, too, had gone to bed, and so the mob could do nothing else but go home.

However, before they had got very far they were joined by another rough mob from a neighbouring town; and then, in the rain and the darkness, the two mobs started fighting and knocking each other down. It was no use Mr. Wesley trying to speak, for the shouting and noise was like the roaring of the sea. They dragged him along with them until they reached the town, and then, seeing the door of a large house open, Mr. Wesley tried to get in. But one of the cruel men got him by the hair and pulled him back into the middle of the mob; and then they dragged him from one end of the town to the other.

"I talked all the time to those that were within hearing," said Mr.

Wesley, afterwards, "and I never felt the least pain or weariness."

At last he saw a shop door half open, and tried to get in, but the gentleman to whom the shop belonged would not let him.

"Why, the people would pull my house down," he said, "if I let you in."

However, Mr. Wesley stood at the door and shouted to the people: "Are you willing to hear me speak?"

"No, no; knock him down! Kill him at once!" cried hundreds of voices.

"Nay, let's hear him first," shouted others.

"What harm have I done any of you?" exclaimed the fearless preacher.

"Which of you have I wronged in word or deed?"

For a quarter of an hour he talked to them, then his voice suddenly gave way, the strain had been too great.

Then the cruel mob cried out again: "Bring him away! Bring him away!"

But Mr. Wesley's strength had come back, and he began to pray aloud.

That prayer acted like magic; the man who had just before been the leader of that brutal crowd, turning to Mr. Wesley, said: "Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no one here shall touch a hair of your head."

Two or three of his companions said almost the same, and surrounded Mr.

Wesley to protect him. Then four or five rough men set upon them, and tried to drag Mr. Wesley away; but a butcher, who was a little further off, shouted, "Shame! shame!" and pulled them back one after another.

Some one else shouted, "For shame! For shame! let the good man go!"

Then, just as if they had been struck by magic, all the people drew back right and left, and Mr. Wesley was carried safely through.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Knock him down! Kill him at once!' cried hundreds of voices."--_Page 114._]

But the danger was not quite over even yet. On the bridge which they had to cross, the mob a.s.sembled again; but Mr. Wesley's protectors took him across a mill-dam and then through some fields, and at last brought him safe into Wednesbury, with no other damage than a torn coat and a little skin sc.r.a.ped off one of his hands.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXVII.

Mr. Wesley's story of the Wednesbury riot.--How he felt.--The right pocket.--Beautiful hair.--The prize-fighter a good protector.--A brick, a stone, and two hard blows.--Daniel vi. 22.

AFTER reading the last exciting chapter, you will all exclaim, "Well, Mr. Wesley _was_ a brave man!" and I am sure you will like to hear what he himself said about his adventures. These are the very words he wrote after the Wednesbury riots:

"From the beginning to the end, I felt as calm as if I had been sitting in my study at home. Once it did come into my mind, that if they threw me into the river, it would spoil the papers I had in my pocket. I was not afraid for myself, for I did not doubt but I could swim across to the opposite bank.

"Thinking about it all now, I notice some remarkable circ.u.mstances. One was, that though several tried to get hold of me, it seemed as if they could not, and when at last one did get hold of my coat and tore the pocket off, it was the right pocket for him to get, for it contained nothing of importance; whereas if he had torn off the other he would have got a bank-note with it.

"Another was, a big strong fellow just behind struck at me several times with a large oak stick. One blow had it hit me would have killed me, but somehow every time he struck, the blow was turned aside. I don't know how, for I could not move either to the right hand or to the left.

"Another man came rus.h.i.+ng through the crowd and raised his arm to strike me. Suddenly he let his arm drop, and only stroked my hair, saying: 'What beautiful hair he has!'

"It was strange too, that the very first men whose hearts were softened were always the leaders of the mob--one of them had been a prize-fighter. So that when they took my part I was well protected.

"Again, from first to last I heard no one give me a reviling word, or call me by any insolent or disgraceful name whatever. The cry of one and all was: 'The Preacher! The Preacher! The Parson! The Minister!'"

Again Mr. Wesley wrote:

"By what gentle and gradual steps does G.o.d prepare us for His will! Two years ago a brick that was thrown at me grazed my shoulders. Then a year after that, the stone struck me between the eyes when I was preaching in London. This evening I have received two blows; one man struck me on the chest with all his might, and another on the mouth with such force that the blood gushed out immediately. But both were as nothing, I felt no more pain from either of the blows, than if the men had touched me with a straw."