It was two miles to the magistrate's house, and before they had got half-way the night came on, and it began to rain very heavily. This made most of the people turn back and hurry home, but two hundred or more kept together round Mr. Wesley. Some of the men ran on first to tell the magistrate they'd got the Methodist preacher. Instead of seeming pleased, the magistrate said: "What have I to do with Mr. Wesley? Take him back again." So he sent them off, and went to bed. By and by the crowd came up to the house, and knocked at the door. When the magistrate's son went to them and asked what was the matter, they said: "Why, please, sir, these Methodists sing psalms all day, and make folks get up at five o'clock in the morning, and what would your worship advise us to do?" "To go home and be quiet," replied the gentleman. Finding they could get no help from this magistrate, they hurried poor Mr. Wesley off to another. This gentleman, too, had gone to bed, and so the mob could do nothing else but go home. However, before they had got very far they were joined by another rough mob from a neighbouring town; and then, in the rain and the darkness, the two mobs started fighting and knocking each other down. It was no use Mr. Wesley trying to speak, for the shouting and noise was like the roaring of the sea. They dragged him along with them until they reached the town, and then, seeing the door of a large house open, Mr. Wesley tried to get in. But one of the cruel men got him by the hair and pulled him back into the middle of the mob; and then they dragged him from one end of the town to the other. "I talked all the time to those that were within hearing," said Mr. Wesley, afterwards, "and I never felt the least pain or weariness." At last he saw a shop door half open, and tried to get in, but the gentleman to whom the shop belonged would not let him. "Why, the people would pull my house down," he said, "if I let you in." However, Mr. Wesley stood at the door and shouted to the people: "Are you willing to hear me speak?" "No, no; knock him down! Kill him at once!" cried hundreds of voices. "Nay, let's hear him first," shouted others. "What harm have I done any of you?" exclaimed the fearless preacher. "Which of you have I wronged in word or deed?" For a quarter of an hour he talked to them, then his voice suddenly gave way, the strain had been too great. Then the cruel mob cried out again: "Bring him away! Bring him away!" But Mr. Wesley's strength had come back, and he began to pray aloud. That prayer acted like magic; the man who had just before been the leader of that brutal crowd, turning to Mr. Wesley, said: "Sir, I will spend my life for you; follow me, and no one here shall touch a hair of your head."