Now I have always loved fair play, and so I asked why they wanted to get to Mr. Wesley, and at that moment there being a lull, and my voice being deep and strong, my question was heard.
"He's a Canorum," they shouted; "he's a Papist, he drives men and women maazed, he keeps 'em from goin' to church, he destroys honest trade!" These among other things I heard as I struggled to get to the door.
There was no law or order in the place. Not a single constable seemed to be near, and for the moment the friends of the preacher seemed to be afraid to act in his defence.
Presently I got to the door of the house, and I think my great proportions frightened some of them.
"Look you," I said, "he is one and you are many. I do not know this man, but I have heard up and down the country that he hath done much good. If any man dares molest him, I will strike him down as I would strike down a yelping cur."
For a moment there was a quiet, and the friends of Mr. Wesley took heart, for although it seems like boasting to say so, I think the sight of one strong, courageous man, as I thank God I have ever been, always has a tendency to quell the anger of an unreasoning mob.
"He's not a friend to the people," they cried. "He's destroyed the trade of Jemmy Crowle, who do kip a kiddleywink over to Zennor. Ted'n no use kippin' a public 'ouse after he've bin to a plaace. He do turn people maazed. He do convert 'em, and then they waan't zing songs, nor git drunk, nor do a bit of smugglin', nor nothin'."
This was said not as I have written it down, but came to me in confused, excited ejaculations from many quarters.
"If that is all he has done," I said, "there is no reason for anger."