Wesley Corpus

Here John Nelson met me. On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, he had preached at Acomb, and the neighbouring places: on Good Friday, in particular, on Heworth Moor, to a large and quiet congregation. On Easter Sunday, at eight, he preached there again, to a large number of serious hearers. Toward the close of his discourse, a mob came from York, hired and headed by some (miscalled) gentlemen. They stood still, till an eminent Papist cried out, “ Why do not you knock the dog’s brains out?” On which they immediately began throwing all that came to hand, so that the congregation was quickly dispersed. John spoke a few words, and walked toward York. They followed with showers of bricks and stones; one of which struck him on the shoulder, one on the back, and, a little before he came to the city, part of a brick hit him on the back part of the head, and felled him to the ground. When he came to himself, two of Acomb lifted him up, and led him forward between them. The gentlemen followed, throwing as before, till he came to the city gate, near which lived an honest tradesman, who took him by the arm, and pulled him into his house. Some of the rioters swore they would break all his windows, if he did not turn him out. But he told them resolutely, “I will not; and let any of you touch my house at your peril: I shall make you remember it as long as you live.” On this they thought good to retire.