LONG, long ago, before all this happened that I have been telling you, there was a forest near Bristol where the kings of England used to hunt, Kingswood it was called. But at the time of which I write, most of the trees had been cut down; a great many coal mines had been dug, and the people who lived round about and worked in the mines were a wild and wicked lot. They had no churches, and those in Bristol were three or four miles away.

Surely, Mr. Whitefield thought, these people ought to have the gospel of Jesus Christ preached to them; they have no church, it cannot be wrong to preach to them in the open air. So, one Sat.u.r.day in this year, 1739, Mr. Whitefield set off to Kingswood. It was a cold winter's day, but his heart was warm inside with love for these poor neglected colliers, and he soon got warm outside with his long walk.

When he reached Kingswood he found an open s.p.a.ce called Rose Green, which he thought was just the place for a service. Standing on a little mound which did for a pulpit, he commenced to preach; and surely that was the grandest church in which a Methodist minister ever held a service. The blue sky of heaven was his roof, the green gra.s.s beneath him the floor; and as Mr. Whitefield stood in his FIRST FIELD PULPIT, his thoughts went back, down the ages, to the dear Master whose steps he was seeking to follow--the Preacher of Nazareth, whose pulpit was the mountain-side, and whose hearers were the publicans and sinners. Two hundred grimy colliers stood and listened to that earnest young preacher.

Mr. Whitefield continued his visits to Kingswood; the second time, instead of two hundred there were 2,000 eager listeners. The next time over 4,000 came to hear; and so the numbers went on increasing until he had a congregation of 20,000.

Once, after he had been preaching, he wrote this: "The trees and the hedges were all in full leaf, and the sun was shining brightly. All the people were silent and still, and G.o.d helped me to speak in such a loud voice that everybody could hear me. All in the surrounding fields were thousands and thousands of people, some in coaches and some on horseback, while many had climbed up into the trees to see and hear."

As Mr. Whitefield preached, nearly all were in tears. Many of the men had come straight from the coal-pits, and the tears that trickled down their cheeks made little white gutters on their grimy faces. Then, in the gathering twilight, they sang the closing hymn, and when the last echoes died away in the deepening shadows, Mr. Whitefield felt how solemn it all was, and he, too, could hardly keep back the tears.

Mr. Whitefield soon found there was more work at Kingswood than he could do alone, so he wrote and asked Mr. John Wesley to come and help him.

Being very _proper_ sort of clergymen, John and Charles Wesley could not help thinking it a dreadful, and almost a wrong thing to preach anywhere but in a church, or, at any rate, in a room; and for some time they could not decide what to do.

They asked the other members at Fetter Lane what they thought about it; some said Mr. John ought to go, and some said he ought not. So at last they decided to draw lots. You know what that is, don't you? If you look in your Bible, in Acts i. 26, you will see that the disciples drew lots when they wanted to make up their number to twelve, after wicked Judas had killed himself. And in John xix. 24, you can read how the soldiers cast lots for the coat that had belonged to Jesus, which they took away after they had crucified Him. And in many other places in the Bible we read about people casting lots.

So the society at Fetter Lane cast lots, and it came out that Mr. John Wesley should go. Everybody was satisfied after this, and even Mr.

Charles, who more than any of the others had objected, now felt that it was right. So Mr. John set off for Bristol and joined his friend.

The first Sunday he was there he heard Mr. Whitefield preach in the open air, and this is what he wrote about it: "It seemed such a strange thing to preach in the fields, when all my life I had believed in everything being done properly and according to the rules of the Church. Indeed, I should have thought it almost a sin to preach anywhere else."

However, because of the lots, he felt it was all right; and he was still more sure of this when he saw the crowds, who would never have gone into a church, listening so intently to G.o.d's Word. He very soon got used to open-air preaching, and by and by Mr. Whitefield left the work at Kingswood to him.

When the people heard that Mr. Whitefield was going to leave them, they were very, very sorry; and the day he rode out of Bristol, a number of them, about twenty, rode on horseback with him, they could not bear to say "good-bye."

As he pa.s.sed through Kingswood, the poor colliers, who were so grateful for all he had done for them, came out to meet him, and told him they had a great surprise for him. They had been very busy collecting money for a school for poor children, and now they wanted their dear friend, Mr. Whitefield, to lay the corner-stone of their new building.

He was surprised and delighted; and when the ceremony was over, he knelt down and prayed that the school might soon be completed, and that G.o.d's blessing might ever rest upon it; and all those rough colliers bowed their heads, and uttered a fervent "Amen."

At last "good-bye" was said to the dear minister who had brought them the glad tidings of salvation, and leaving them in charge of Mr. Wesley, George Whitefield rode away.

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CHAPTER XVII.

John Wesley's moral courage.--What some carriage people thought of him.--And why.--The fashionable Beau in the big, white hat.--Interrupts Mr.

Wesley.--Gets as good as he gives.--And better.--The King of Bath slinks away.

DO you know what "moral courage" is, young readers? How shall I explain it? I think you will understand it best if I say it is "courage to do what is right." A boy may have courage to fight a bigger boy than himself, but he may not have the moral courage to own to a fault before his school-fellows, or to side with the right when that side is unpopular.

Now, I think John Wesley showed a great deal of moral courage when he started to preach in the open air. Remember, he was born a gentleman, he was educated as a gentleman, and as Fellow of an Oxford College had always mixed with distinguished gentlemen. Then he was brought up a strict Churchman, and had always believed that the ways and rules of the Church were the only right and proper ways.

Fancy this most particular Church clergyman, wearing his gown and bands, just as you have seen him in the pictures, and getting upon a table in the open air, or on the stump of a tree, or climbing into a cart and preaching to a lot of dirty, ignorant men and women. This was, indeed, moral courage; he did it because he felt it was the right thing to do, and that G.o.d wanted him to do it.

Mr. Wesley was quite as much liked by the people as Mr. Whitefield had been, and the sight of him preaching was such a wonderful one, that ladies and gentlemen came in their carriages to see and to hear.

In his sermons, Mr. Wesley spoke as plainly to the rich as he did to the poor. He told them how G.o.d hated sin, and that it was impossible for a sinner to get to heaven. Some of the ladies and gentlemen did not like this at all, and called Mr. Wesley "rude and ill-mannered," but it made them feel uncomfortable all the same.

You have heard of a place called Bath, and that it is noted for its mineral waters. It is a fashionable place now, but it was a great deal more fashionable in Mr. Wesley's time. Not being far from Bristol, Mr.

Wesley used sometimes to go and preach there. Once when he went, some of his friends said: "Don't preach to-day, for Beau Nash means to come and oppose you."

Beau Nash was a gambler, and in other ways, too, a very bad man. But, somehow, he always managed to get enough money to make a great show, and many of the people looked up to him as a leader of fashion. Indeed, he was quite popular among most of the visitors to Bath.

Of course when Mr. Wesley heard that this man was coming to oppose him, instead of being frightened, he was all the more determined to preach.

A great number of people had a.s.sembled, many of them Nash's friends, who had come to see "the fun." By and by Beau Nash himself came, looking very grand in a big white hat, and riding in a coach drawn by six grey horses, with footmen and coachmen all complete.

Soon after Mr. Wesley had commenced his sermon, Beau Nash interrupted him by asking: "Who gave you leave to do what you are doing?"

"Jesus Christ," said Mr. Wesley, "through the Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid his hands upon my head, and said: 'Take thou authority to preach the gospel.'"

This answer rather settled Beau Nash. Then he accused Mr. Wesley of frightening the people out of their wits.

"Did you ever hear me preach?" said Mr. Wesley.

"No," was the reply.

"Then how do you know I frighten people?"

"By what I have heard."

"Oh!" said Mr. Wesley. "Then is not your name Nash?"

"It is," said the Beau.

"Well, sir, I suppose, then, I must judge you by what I have heard of you."

This reply so confounded the young man that he could not say a word, and when an old woman in the congregation stood up and told the Beau what she thought about him, the "King of Bath," as he was called, slunk away, and took himself off.

This affair made a great stir in Bath, and when Mr. Wesley went through the town the streets were full of people, hurrying up and down, wanting to see him.

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