Wesley visited his old friend Mr. Adams, the popish priest, at Osmotherley, heard a useful sermon in the parish church, and then preached in the churchyard himself. He proceeded to Guisborough, where Thomas Corney, who, for about half a century, entertained the preachers, and who died in the faith, in 1807, was one of the members.[436] Here also resided John Middleton, a miller, who, in 1766, removed to Hartlepool, where, for many years, he was the best friend that Methodism had, and where he peacefully expired in 1795.[437]
From Guisborough, Wesley went to Whitby, and preached on the top of a hill which had to be ascended by a hundred and ninety steps. At Robinhood’s Bay, in the midst of his sermon, a large cat, frighted out of a chamber, leaped upon a woman’s head, and ran over the shoulders of many more; but so intent were they upon the truths to which they were listening, “that none of them moved or cried out, any more than if the cat had been a butterfly.”
On June 25, Wesley wended his way to Scarborough, and preached from a balcony, to several hundreds of people standing in the street. The first Methodist here was a pious female of the name of Bozman, who regularly went to Robinhood’s Bay to meet in class, a distance of fourteen miles, which she frequently rode upon an ass. In 1756, Thomas Brown, a local preacher, came from Sunderland, procured a preaching room in Whitehead’s Lane, and formed a Methodist society. In 1760, Mr. George Cussons joined them, the society now numbering six-and-thirty members.[438] Persecution followed; and, on one occasion, Brown, Cussons, and others were seized by a press gang, and were only released by the interference of General Lambton, then member of parliament for the city of Durham. In 1768, the Scarborough society sent, as its contribution to the York quarterly meeting, the magnificent sum of half a guinea;[439] and, four years afterwards, erected a chapel, which Wesley pronounced a model, for its “beauty and neatness.”[440]
From Scarborough, Wesley proceeded to Hull, where he found “some witnesses of the great salvation”; and to Beverley, Pocklington, and York. At York, he had far the genteelest audience he had seen since leaving Edinburgh, but he found many of the members “utterly dead,” and the society not at all increasing, which he attributed in part to the neglect of outdoor preaching.[441]
On July 6, Wesley proceeded to Tadcaster, and then to Otley. At the latter place he found ten or twelve professing to be entirely sanctified. Here resided John Whitaker, who had his first society ticket from the hands of Grimshaw, was a Methodist sixty-eight years, a leader sixty-four, a circuit steward more than fifty, and who finished his course in peace in 1825, aged eighty-four.[442] Here, especially, were the Ritchie family. John Ritchie, Esq., a sensible, amiable, well informed, godly man, had served many years as a surgeon in the navy. His wife was Beatrice Robinson, of Bramhope. His daughter Elizabeth, afterwards Mrs. Mortimer, was, for many years, Wesley’s friend and correspondent. Mr. Ritchie died in the faith in 1780; and his wife in 1808; their house being open to Wesley and his preachers for upward of half a century.[443] Here, as in other places, Methodism was cradled in persecution, the resident magistrate telling the mob, that they might do what they liked with the Methodists, except breaking their bones.
At Knaresborough, Wesley preached in the assembly room, where “the people looked wild enough when they came in; but were tame before they went out.”
He then made his way to Guiseley, Bingley, and Keighley. At Bingley, the first preaching place was a blacksmith’s shop; and among its first Methodists were, not only Jonathan Maskew and Thomas Mitchell—honoured names, but, Benjamin Wilkinson, a simple hearted, zealous, good old pilgrim, who died in the parish workhouse, and found a pauper’s grave, but at whose funeral the streets were crowded by those who wished to do him honour, while the singers of the chapel sang a solemn hymn of praise until they entered the sacred precincts of the parish church, where, as Methodists, they were allowed to sing no longer. Another Bingley Methodist, belonging to about the same period, was Joseph Pickles, who died at the age of ninety-five, in 1829, after being a Methodist nearly sixty-five years, leaving behind him seven children, seventy-three grandchildren, one hundred and seventy-nine great grandchildren, and fifty great great grandchildren, in all three hundred and nine surviving descendants, exclusive of one hundred and one others who died before him,—a total progeny of four hundred and ten.[444]
On Sunday, July 12, the crowd at Haworth was so immense that, after the liturgy had been read in the interior of the church, Grimshaw caused a scaffold to be fixed outside one of the windows, so that Wesley, at the same time, might preach to the congregations within and without. Well might the preacher exclaim, as he gazed on the vast multitude, in the picturesque churchyard, “What has God wrought in the midst of those rough mountains!”
During the ensuing week, Wesley preached at Colne, Padiham, Bacup, Heptonstall, Ewood, Halifax, and other places; and on Sunday, July 19, thrice at Leeds and Birstal, where he also held a lovefeast, which, marvellously enough, was the first that Birstal had. “Many,” says he, “were surprised when I told them, ‘The very design of a lovefeast is a free and familiar conversation, in which every man, yea, and woman, has liberty to speak whatever may be to the glory of God,’”
The next week was spent in preaching in the neighbourhood. At Kippax, he was joined by the Rev. Henry Venn; the Rev. William Romaine read prayers; and Wesley preached on “Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolishness.” On the Sunday following, he preached again at Birstal, where numbers were converted. On July 27, he proceeded to Staincross; and thence to Sheffield. He preached under the hollow of a rock at Matlock Bath; and opened the new octagon chapel at Rotherham, remarking, “Pity our houses, where the ground will admit of it, should be built in any other form.” The cost of the Octagon was £235 16s. 3-1/2d.; the subscriptions amounted to £68 14s., of which sum £20 were given by Valentine Radley, a currier.[445] It is said that, while Wesley was preaching the opening sermon, the rabble drove in an ass, which stood in the aisle, lifted up its eyes to the preacher, remained quiet till the sermon was ended, then turned round and leisurely walked away, without making the disturbance that the mob expected.[446] Wesley pronounced the ass the most attentive hearer that he had.