heard?" To this Nash replied, "By common report." Here the master of the ceremonies rather gave himself away; for Wesley at once said: "Sir, is not your name Nash? I dare not judge of you by common report: I think it not enough to judge by."

In Bristol and London the magistrates interposed on Wesley's behalf with such vigour that the mob, on the whole, was cowed; though, before the civil power came to his aid, they stoned him and his people in the streets and tried to unroof the Foundry, threw wildfire and crackers into the room where he was preaching in Chelsea, and broke in the roof at Long Lane with stones, so as to endanger the lives of the people inside.

In some parts of the country, matters assumed a much more serious aspect, especially where people in good position egged on the mob. This was the case, to take one notable example, at Wednesbury, in Staffordshire. When Wesley

preached there in the open air, everything was quiet, and the colliers listened to him readily enough. A society of three or four hundred people was formed in the place. The Anglican clergyman of the town was in the beginning well pleased, and then took offence; while some of the magistrates not only refused to act for the protection of the Methodists, but joined Mr. Egginton, the clergyman, in exciting the mob against them. Hence came scenes of abominable disorder. The rioters smashed the Methodists' windows, broke open their houses, destroyed or stole their goods, and beat, pelted, and dragged in the kennels men, women, and children. They even outraged pregnant women, while they went near murdering those who would not sign a letter of recantation. This anarchy had lasted some four or five months, when Wesley, on arriving at Birmingham, heard of what was going on in the Staffordshire neighborhood.

With characteristic pluck he went immediately to the post of danger. He preached in Wednesbury in the middle of the day, and no one molested him. At night, however, the mob assailed his lodgings with cries of: "Bring out the minister! We will have the minister!" Wesley had the leader of the mob brought in; and this man, who seems to have been awed by the manner of his intended victim, when requested, brought in also two of his companions, who were affected as he had been. They allowed Wesley, in any case, to go out and speak to the people. This he did from a chair. He asked them what they wanted with him. Some answered that they wanted him to go before the justices. "With all my heart," said Wesley, adding a few other words, which so touched them that they cried out, "The gentleman is an honest gentleman, and we will spill our blood in his defence." It was the close of an October afternoon when they

set off with Wesley to the nearest magistrate, Mr. Lane, who lived two miles out of Wednesbury, at Bentley Hall. It became dark and rained heavily. On arrival, when they were asked, what was wrong, their leader answered, "Why, an't please you, they sing psalms all day; nay, and make folks rise at five in the morning. And what would your worship advise us to do?" "To go home and be quiet," was the answer. But they were not satisfied. They proceeded to Justice Persehouse at Walsall. Here a much rougher and more furious rabble captured Wesley from the Wednesbury mob. The noise they made was like the raging of the sea, said Wesley. Some tried to trip him, others tore off part of his clothes, while blows with bludgeons, which might have proved fatal, happily missed their object. He was smitten on the mouth so that the blood gushed out. There were those who cried : "Knock his brains

out! Down with him! Kill him at once!" At last he got a chance to make his voice heard, and asked: "What evil have I done? Which of you all have I wronged in thought or word or deed?" His voice and perfect selfmastery came to his aid, but he was again shouted down. Then he began to pray aloud. A curious thing at once happened. The leader of the mob suddenly turned to him, and said: "Sir, I will spend my life for you! Follow me, and not one soul here shall touch a hair of your head." This unexpected ally was a valuable one, as he had been a prize-fighter. He managed to get Wesley out of the clutches of the rabble and back to Wednesbury. Wesley's preachers in other places were even more cruelly handled, and the women who attended the meetings were villanously misused. At St. Ives, in Cornwall, when the news came in that Admiral Matthews had beaten the Spaniards, the populace