On the whole, however, the Cornish people were not unkind to Mr. Wesley. At St. Ives they once gave him a very noisy welcome, shouting, "Hurrah! hurrah!" and then going under his bedroom window and singing: "John Wesley is come to town, To try if he can pull the churches down." All this happened during his first visit to Cornwall; and only once during the three weeks he was there did he get really abused, and that was at St. Ives, when the mob burst into his room, and a rough, cruel man struck him on the head. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXX. A fight with the sea.--Poor Peter!--A sail in a fisherman's boat.--The song that the waves accompanied.--A climb on Land's End.--Manchester disgraces itself.--Hull still worse.--Matt. v. 39.--A brave servant girl.--John Wesley declines to hide. I TOLD you in the last chapter what a wonderful traveller Mr. Wesley was; he could walk twenty-four miles a day easily, in either hot or cold weather, and his adventures on the roads would almost fill a book. On one of his later visits to Cornwall, he had a terrible fight with the sea; this time he was riding in a coach. He had promised to preach in St. Ives at a certain time, and the only way to get there was by crossing the sands when the tide was out. His own driver being a stranger in the country, he engaged a man named Peter Martin to drive him. When they reached the sea-shore they found, to their dismay, that the tide was coming in, and the sands they had to cross were already partly covered with water. Peter, the old coachman, stopped the horses, and told Mr. Wesley that it was not safe to go. Then an old sea-captain tried to prevent them, begging them to go back, or they would surely be drowned. "No," said Mr. Wesley, "I've promised to preach at St. Ives, and I must keep my promise. Take the sea! Take the sea!" he shouted, putting his head out of the carriage window. In a moment, Peter whipped the horses, and dashed into the waves. The wheels of the carriage kept sinking in the deep pits and hollows in the sand, while the horses, swimming in the water, snorted and reared with fright, and every moment poor Peter expected to be drowned. Just at this terrible moment, Mr. Wesley put his head out of the carriage window; his long white hair--for he was an old man when this happened--was dripping with the salt water, which ran down his venerable face. He was calm and fearless, unmoved by the roaring of the waves or the danger of the situation. "What is your name, driver?" he shouted. "Peter, sir," shouted back the man. "Peter," Mr. Wesley called out again, "fear not; thou shalt not sink." With spurring and whipping, the poor frightened, tired horses at last brought them safely over.