I will tell you what Mr. Wesley said about it. [Illustration: "In the midst of the crowd is Mr. Wesley, telling these country-people the story of the Cross."--_Page 124._] "It was a hot summer day, and we could see the blue, blue sky through the leaves of the old sycamores, which shaded us from the heat. Just as I began to preach, a little bird perched on a branch close by and began to sing. I went on preaching, but its song did not end, it sang on and on, and not until the service was quite over did it cease. It was the best music for such a church and such a congregation, no harp or organ ever sounded half so sweet." From Westmoreland, where this happened, to Cornwall is a long way, but not too far for Mr. Wesley and his horse. He used often to ride sixty miles a day; and most of his reading, and the composing of his sermons was done while he was on horseback. He travelled in this way for more than forty years, and must have gone over 100,000 miles. In Gwennap, a place in Cornwall, Mr. Wesley found a lovely out-of-doors sort of chapel. Some of my readers will have seen the Happy Valley at Llandudno; I think the Gwennap chapel must have been something like that, only a great deal bigger. This is what Mr. Wesley wrote about his first service there: "I stood on a wall, in the calm, still evening, with the setting sun behind, and a great, great multitude before, behind, and on either hand, sitting on the hills all round. All could hear quite distinctly, when I read to them Christ's own words: 'The disciple is not above his Master,' and 'He that taketh not his cross and followeth after Me is not worthy of Me.'" Must it not have been a wonderful sight? Like other places, Cornwall did not always give a kind welcome to the Methodists; indeed, they had sometimes to put up with very rough treatment. Often they had to go without food, and the hard floor was their only bed. Once, at a place called St. Ives, Mr. Wesley and his helper, Mr. Nelson, slept on the floor for a whole fortnight. One of them had an overcoat rolled up for a pillow, and the other a big book. They used to get very sore, and sometimes could not sleep for the pain in their poor aching bones. But these Methodists had never heard of Grumble Corner,--they only knew Thanksgiving Street; and so, instead of murmuring and complaining, one night, when the floor seemed harder than ever, Mr. Wesley called out: "Let us cheer up, Brother Nelson, for the skin is only off one side yet." Another time, when no one had asked them to dinner or tea, and they were riding through a country lane, feeling very hungry, Mr. Wesley stopped his horse to gather some blackberries, saying to his friend: "Brother Nelson, we ought to be thankful that there are plenty of blackberries, for this is the best country I ever saw for getting an appetite, but the worst for getting food."