But the mission of John Wesley was to rouse the masses. This he
did, though at great peril to his own life; for his preaching often
produced strong opposition.

Thus in June, 1743, at Wednesbury the mob assembled at the house where
he was staying, and shouted "Bring out the minister; we will have the
minister!" But Wesley was not a bit frightend. He asked that their
captain might be brought in to him, and after a little talk the man
who came in like a lion went out like a lamb.

Then Wesley went out to the angry crowd, and standing on a chair
asked, "What do you want with me?"

"We want you to go with us to the justice!" cried some.

"That I will, with all my heart," he replied.

Then he spoke a few words to them; and the people shouted: "The
gentleman is an honest gentleman, and we will spill our blood in his
defence".

But they changed their minds later on; for they met a Walsall crowd on
their way, who attacked Wesley savagely, and those who had been loud
in their promises to protect him--fled!

Left to the mercy of the rable, he was dragged to Walsall. One man
hit him in the mouth with such force that the blood streamed from the
wound; another struck him on the breast; a third seized him and tried
to pull him down.

"Are you willing," cried Wesley, "to hear me?"

"No, no!" they answered; "knock out his brains, down with him, kill
him at once!"

"What evil," asked Wesley, "have I done? Which of you all have I
wronged by word or deed?" Then he began to pray; and one of the
ringleaders said to him:--

"Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no one shall hurt a
hair of your head."

Others took his part also--one, fortunately, being a prizefighter.

Wesley thus describes the finish of this remarkable adventure:--

"A little before ten o'clock God brought me safe to Wednesbury, having
lost only one flap of my waistcoat, and a little skin from one of my
hands. From the beginning to the end I found the same presence of mind
as if I had been sitting in my own study. But I took no thought from
one moment to another; only once it came into my mind that, if they
should throw me into the river, it would spoil the papers that were in
my pocket. For myself I did not doubt but I should swim across, having
but a thin coat and a light pair of shoes."

At Pensford the rabble made a bull savage, and then tried to make it
attack his congregation; at Whitechapel they drove cows among the
listeners and threw