The Story of John Wesley Part 11

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CHAPTER XXIV.

Another peep into the Magic Mirror.--A pretty picture.--At Epworth.--Mr. Wesley is very unkindly treated.--All for the best.--The curate is "done."--A happy ending to a bad beginning.--"Good-bye, Epworth."

SHALL we have another peep into the Magic Mirror? See that pretty country church, with the square tower. There are some big trees near, looking as if they were tall giants keeping guard; they have no leaves on them yet, and their bare arms stretch out a long way as if they were trying to reach the church.

If you look carefully you will see buds coming out on the trees, baby buds they are, waiting for the sun's kisses. Then they will burst out and grow into great leaves that will cover up the naked old trees. Ivy climbs up the church wall. I see its dark glossy leaves, for the ivy is evergreen.

There are many graves in the churchyard, but you can hardly see them because people are sitting on them; such a number of people, hundreds more than could ever have got into the church. They are all looking one way, and seem to be listening very attentively. What are they looking at? They are looking at a gentleman who is standing all alone on a big flat tombstone near the church wall. He wears a gown and white bands like a clergyman, and he has long hair brushed very smoothly, and a beautiful, happy face.

Dear me! did I hear a crash then? And did I hear a hundred young voices shouting: "I know who it is, it's Mr. John Wesley"? Why, you must have broken the mirror with your shouts. You are right, dears, but you shouted rather too soon. I wanted to read what it said on the tombstone on which Mr. Wesley was standing. But, never mind, I think I saw some of the words:

"SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF SAMUEL WESLEY, FOR THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS RECTOR OF EPWORTH."

Yes, it was his father's grave on which John Wesley was standing.

On his way back from one of his visits to Newcastle he thought he would like to see his dear old home once more. It was a long, long time since he had been there, and he was not quite sure whether the people would have anything to do with him now, for, as leader of the Methodists, he had many enemies.

It was Sat.u.r.day evening in early spring, when he got to the little inn, in the long straggling street that was called Epworth village. He had not been there very long before three or four poor women found him out, one of them an old servant of his mother's.

Next morning, which was Sunday, he went to the curate of the church and politely offered to help him with the service. The curate, I am sorry to say, was very rude, and refused to let Mr. Wesley take any part in the service or to preach in the church at all.

This was a great disappointment, for Mr. Wesley loved the people of Epworth, and every stone in the old church was dear to him. His father had preached from that pulpit for nearly forty years, and he himself had stood there more times than he could count, and it was very hard that he was forbidden to take his place there now.

The people were longing to hear him, and when the afternoon service was over, and all the folks were leaving the church, one of his friends stood in the churchyard and gave out this notice:

"MR. WESLEY, NOT BEING ALLOWED TO PREACH IN THE CHURCH, INTENDS TO PREACH HERE AT SIX O'CLOCK THIS EVENING."

It was this picture of Mr. Wesley preaching that the Magic Mirror showed us. I expect the curate was very angry at being so "done;" but he could not stop Mr. Wesley preaching _outside_ the church.

For a whole week John Wesley preached every evening from his father's tombstone. Crowds came to hear him, and hundreds were converted and turned from their evil ways. They saw how sinful they had been and prayed aloud for forgiveness. Drunkards became sober men, and those who cursed and swore were turned into peace-makers.

So dear old Mr. Wesley's prayers were answered, and the people who had treated him so unkindly, and whom he had forgiven and loved, now took his Saviour to be their Saviour, and his G.o.d to be their G.o.d.

Indeed Mr. Wesley's visit to his old home, that began so unpleasantly, ended very happily, and when his last evening came, both he and his dear people found it hard to say "Good-bye."

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CHAPTER XXV.

No one like mother.--Sad days at the Foundry.--Mrs. Wesley goes Home through the Beautiful Gate.--A sorrowing son.--Preaching at the open grave.--At work again.--Satan in opposition.--Fireworks, cows, stones, blood, and broken windows.

A GOOD mother is a boy's or a girl's best earthly friend. John Wesley knew this, and thought there was no mother like _his_ mother. You remember how, as a little boy, he always went to her for advice; and when he was quite a young man he used to hope that he would die before her, for he felt he could not live without his mother. You may think, then, how sad he was when, at last, the message came to him that she was dying.

He was at Bristol when he received the news, and at once set off for London. Arrived at his home at the Foundry, he found his five sisters watching round the bed of the dear old mother.

Though she was too ill to speak to them, they could see she was quite happy and peaceful, just waiting to be taken Home. Before long the call came: "Come up higher."

A great number of people came to the funeral; and as Mr. Wesley stood at the graveside, he preached one of his most wonderful sermons. His heart was full; he had lost the friend of his life. But he knew it was not for ever, one day he would meet her again; and as he looked on those hundreds of people gathered there by the open grave, he longed that they should, as surely, some day pa.s.s Home through the Beautiful Gate.

Work is the best cure for sorrow; and after his dear mother's death, Mr.

Wesley began his preaching again. Wherever he went people were converted, and became followers of Jesus Christ; and also wherever he went wicked men and women tried to stop him preaching, and sometimes even wanted to kill him. But he was doing G.o.d's work, and G.o.d took care of him.

Once he was preaching to hundreds of people in an open s.p.a.ce somewhere in London. In the middle of his sermon, several men tried to drive a herd of cows among the listeners. They wanted to frighten them, and force them to go away. But the cows were wiser than their masters, and would not go among the people. Then these bad men started throwing stones, and one of them hit Mr. Wesley just between his eyes. What do you think he did? Give up preaching and go home? Indeed he did not; he just wiped the blood off his face, and went on telling the people to repent of their sins and believe on the Son of G.o.d. Brave John Wesley!

Bristol, you remember, was the first place where Mr. Wesley preached out of doors, and it was at Bristol where there was the first great disturbance.

I don't quite know how it was, but just about this time, wherever the Methodists went, they were abused and ill-treated. I think Satan was beginning to find out how much good the Methodists were doing, and thought it was about time he did something to stop it. So, in all the towns where the preachers went, he stirred up the worst men and women to make rows and disturb the services.

At Chelsea, the rioters threw fireworks into the room; at another place they broke in the roof, and some of the people were nearly killed. At Bristol, the mob filled the streets, shouting, and cursing, and swearing. When the constables caught the ring-leaders and took them before the mayor, they began to speak against Mr. Wesley, but the mayor stopped them. "Whatever Mr. Wesley is, is nothing to you," he said. "I won't allow any rioting in this city, and you must go to prison." This was the first and last disturbance at Bristol. But the worst of it was, at most of the places, neither the constables nor the mayor would interfere, and so the people did just as they liked.

At Wednesbury, in Staffordshire, the Methodists were most cruelly treated. One of the rioters used to blow a horn, and then all the mob gathered together. They went to every house where there was a Methodist, smashed the windows, dragged the furniture out and broke it up, and burnt the beds. If the men or women interfered, they just knocked them down; even the little children they used to beat. But I think I will leave the exciting scenes at Wednesbury for another chapter.

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CHAPTER XXVI.

Brave as a lion.--A protecting angel.--G.o.d's magic.--Foes become friends.--An unpleasant walk in rain and darkness.--What the mayor said.--A free fight.--"Knock the parson down! Kill him at once!"--Magic again.--A butcher to the rescue.--Safe back in Wednesbury.

WHEN Mr. Wesley heard how his followers were being treated in Wednesbury, he went off at once to their help. Though he was only a little man, he was as brave as a lion; he knew he had G.o.d at his back, and like David before Goliath, like Daniel before Darius, and like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego before Nebuchadnezzar, he did not fear what man could do unto him.