A few passages from their journal will tell much of their earnest efforts and ceaseless longings to help this people, and also the difficulties with which they were beset. At Galway, once a famous seaport town on the west coast of Ireland, they write:
"9th mo. 15th. Called at an early hour upon the vicar, an Episcopal clergyman, D'Arcy, who attended our meeting and kindly invited us to come to his residence and he would take us to the school and make way for any religious service to which we felt called. He received us heartily and entered into the plans we wished to execute. He accompanied us, with his amiable wife, to the asylum for aged females and to the school. We had service for Him who sent us, much to our comfort, and, we may trust, to their edification. The dear children listened with delight and interest to all that was offered, and many appeared tender. They are improving finely and getting a good knowledge of the Scriptures, which may be of lasting benefit to them; but oh the hunger and rags were apparent enough to pain the hardest heart. Our company distributed some relief among them as seemed most prudent; the evil might be wholly remedied by giving them work and a fair compensation. The Irish are not naturally idle; there is abundant proof to the contrary.
"16th, Fifth day. This morning visited the poor-house and school connected with it; all neat and orderly, good improvement; about thirteen hundred inmates. We had the children collected for religious service, and it was a good time. They were mostly Roman Catholics. They were serious and seemed contrited."
"17th. Two friends with my Eli called on the Roman priest and informed him of our intention to hold a meeting for the inhabitants; he was civil, but said none of his people would attend."
At another time, while they were in the city of Galway, Eli Jones was told that he would be stoned by the Catholics if he attempted to preach. He at once called on the priest, told him that he was an American, and obtained a promise from him that his people should be allowed to come to the meeting that evening. Before a large audience of the most bigoted Roman Catholics he arose to preach the gospel of redeeming love. It was the part of wisdom to gain his hearers, for their souls could not be reached until the barrier of their prejudice was broken down. He began: "A virgin shall conceive and bring forth a son, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace;" "Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women;" "They found Joseph and Mary and the babe." After hearing these passages they were all ready to listen to him, and then, as he says, "I soon left the mother and talked to them of the child."
"The 20th, at Conamarra. People mostly in rags worn to strings, winter near, hunger everywhere; but a better time is coming, we hope. They seem emerging from the shades of superstition and moral darkness, having seen in some degree the light which enlightened the Gentiles and the glory of Israel. May the bright and morning Star shine in its resplendent beauty over this neglected land! May the labors of the faithful ministers of Christ be more abundant and their service for Him be crowned with cheering success! and may the seed sown, though often with weeping, trembling, and much fear, bring forth an hundred-fold!
"21st. We arrived at Clifden in time for a meeting held in a courthouse. Many sober people came who seemed glad to hear of the way of life, but others, set on by the priests, disturbed the meeting, so that it was not a very comfortable time; but I secretly rejoiced in being counted worthy to suffer for His name's sake who sent us forth."
On the 28th Sybil Jones was taken very ill with influenza. They were fortunately at Kilnock, among very kind friends. Here they were kept nearly a month. Eli Jones improved all the time, holding meetings almost continually, while his wife, confined to her room, "was in great peace" and the triumphal anthem was on her lips:
"If Thou shouldst call me to resign
What most I prize—it ne'er was mine—