A great number of people came to the funeral; and as Mr. Wesley stood at the graveside, he preached one of his most wonderful sermons. His heart was full; he had lost the friend of his life. But he knew it was not for ever, one day he would meet her again; and as he looked on those hundreds of people gathered there by the open grave, he longed that they should, as surely, some day pass Home through the Beautiful Gate. Work is the best cure for sorrow; and after his dear mother's death, Mr. Wesley began his preaching again. Wherever he went people were converted, and became followers of Jesus Christ; and also wherever he went wicked men and women tried to stop him preaching, and sometimes even wanted to kill him. But he was doing God's work, and God took care of him. Once he was preaching to hundreds of people in an open space somewhere in London. In the middle of his sermon, several men tried to drive a herd of cows among the listeners. They wanted to frighten them, and force them to go away. But the cows were wiser than their masters, and would not go among the people. Then these bad men started throwing stones, and one of them hit Mr. Wesley just between his eyes. What do you think he did? Give up preaching and go home? Indeed he did not; he just wiped the blood off his face, and went on telling the people to repent of their sins and believe on the Son of God. Brave John Wesley! Bristol, you remember, was the first place where Mr. Wesley preached out of doors, and it was at Bristol where there was the first great disturbance. I don't quite know how it was, but just about this time, wherever the Methodists went, they were abused and ill-treated. I think Satan was beginning to find out how much good the Methodists were doing, and thought it was about time he did something to stop it. So, in all the towns where the preachers went, he stirred up the worst men and women to make rows and disturb the services. At Chelsea, the rioters threw fireworks into the room; at another place they broke in the roof, and some of the people were nearly killed. At Bristol, the mob filled the streets, shouting, and cursing, and swearing. When the constables caught the ring-leaders and took them before the mayor, they began to speak against Mr. Wesley, but the mayor stopped them. "Whatever Mr. Wesley is, is nothing to you," he said. "I won't allow any rioting in this city, and you must go to prison." This was the first and last disturbance at Bristol. But the worst of it was, at most of the places, neither the constables nor the mayor would interfere, and so the people did just as they liked.