Part 1
Bourne, F. W. 1830-1905
THE KING'S SON
OR,
A MEMOIR OF BILLY BRAY.
COMPILED CHIEFLY FROM HIS OWN MEMORANDA.
25th Edition edited by jfaudiostuff
LONDON: BIBLE CHRISTIAN BOOK-ROOM,
26, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.G.; HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO., 32, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1887.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
THE rapid sale of two editions of this Memoir is sufficient evidence of the truth of the remark, that no person in Cornwall, in the humbler ranks of life at least, was better known or more respected than William, commonly called "Billy" Bray. His witty and eccentric sayings caused him to be thus widely known, and his deep and fervent piety to be as generally respected. It is Billy Bray himself who mostly speaks in the following pages, and while his gems of thought and experience might have been made - by cutting and polishing and more skilful setting - to flash with an intenser light and a purer lustre, I wish to express my gratitude for the numerous testimonies I have received as to the acceptability and usefulness of this little work. To several ministers whose names occur in the Memoirs, to the Rev. W. Haslam, and to Mr John Ashworth of Rochdale, I tender my heartiest thanks for the interesting incidents which they have kindly furnished. A grand-daughter of Billy's has a pecuniary interest in the sale of the book, and I hope for her sake, and that, by the blessing of God, it may strengthen the faith, confirm the love, and stimulate the zeal of many, it may obtain a yet wider circulation.
F. W. B.
London, February 5, 1872.
CONTENTS.
Page I. HIS CONVERSION .. . . . . . . . . . II. THE FIRST-FRUITS OF HARVEST . . . . . . . III. JOY UNSPEAKABLE AND FULL OF GLORY . . . . . . IV. CHAPEL BUILDING . . . . . . . . . . . V. THE PRAYER OF FAITH . . . . . . . . . VI. PURE RELIGION .. . . . . . . . . . VII. SABBATH KEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . VIII. TRIALS AND CONFLICTS . . . . . . . . . IX. DRINKING AND SMOKING . . . . . . . . . X. REBUKE AND EXHORTATION . . . . . . . . XI. FULLY RIPE FOR THE GARNER . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER I.
HIS CONVERSION. "Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creation: old things have passed away; behold, the new has come" - 2 Cor. v. 17. THIS chapter, which is mainly devoted to Billy's own account of his conversion, is a striking illustration of this Scripture. Persons who only knew him after this great change had been wrought in his heart by the Truth and the Spirit of God, would never have imagined that he had run to that excess of riot which he so feelingly describes. But the same grace which transformed a persecuting Saul of Tarsus into the renowned Apostle to the Gentiles, and a blaspheming tinker of Bedford into one of England's most famous preachers and confessors, changed also Billy Bray, formerly a drunken and lascivious miner, into a loving and consistent disciple of the Son of God, a living embodiment of the things which are true, and honest" and just, and pure, and lovely, and of good report. The greatness and thoroughness of the change he mercifully experienced fully agree with those expressions of it with which all New Testament readers know so well. It was a change from darkness to light, from hatred to love, from despair to hope, from misery to joy, from death to life. If the darkness was dense, the light into which his soul was ushered was marvellous, revealing a new world of spiritual glories and realities; if the hatred was bitter, the subsequent love was self-sacrificing and complete; if the despair was tormenting and terrible, the hope was correspondingly peaceful and bright; if the misery was profound, it was succeeded by unutterable and exalted joy; and if the death was like the shadow and the actual precursor of the second death, the life was spiritual and divine, God's own immortal and glorious life in the human soul. But of the great and gracious change, the reality of which his whole life afterwards testified, Billy Bray shall presently speak himself. It is only necessary for us to state that he was born at Twelveheads, a village in the parish of Kea, near Truro, Cornwall, on the 1st of June I794. The village then consisted of only a few thatched cottages, inhabited by " tinners," but which had its humble Methodist chapel, where his paternal grandfather worshipped, and which he had helped to build. He was one of the old Methodists, for he joined the then persecuted and despised people when Mr Wesley first visited Cornwall. Billy's father was also pious, but he died when his children were very young, who then went to live with their grandfather; and with him Billy remained until he was seventeen years old, when he went to Devonshire, where, far removed from pious example and instruction, he lived a bad life. He says: "I became the companion of drunkards, and during that time I was very
near hell. I remember once getting drunk in Tavistock; when going home we met a large horse in the way; it was late at night, and two of us got on the horse's back; we had not gone far; before the horse stumbled against a stone, and, turning right over, both of us were nearly killed. At another time I got drunk, and while fighting with a man my hat fell into the fire, and was burnt. I stole another to wear home, and narrowly escaped being sent to jail for it." His drunken frolics were many, which he could not recall without deep shame and sorrow; but his soul was stained with viler sins than any that have been mentioned. His gratitude was lively ever afterwards because the Lord had saved him from the lowest hell. "The Lord was good to me," he often said, "when I was the servant of the devil, or I should have been down in hell now;" and he felt he must praise the Lord for His goodness. His hairbreadth escapes from danger, though he was such a wicked wretch, made an impression on his heart at the time, and a deeper impression afterwards. He was emphatic in his wish that all the evil should be faith fully recorded, that the great mercy of God might be more fully known. "Once," he tells us, "I was working under ground, and I heard a 'scat' (rent) overhead; I ran out, and, I think, forty tons fell down where I had been working but a minute before." But he had not yet reached the lowest depths of evil and misery. Turned away from the mine at which he worked for being insolent to the captain, he moved to another part of Devonshire, and as if to make his damnation sure, went to live at a beer-shop. We may follow the course of his narrative again: - "There, with other drunkards, I drank all night long. But I had a sore head and a sick stomach, and worse than all, horror of mind that no tongue can tell. I used to dread to go to sleep for fear of waking up in hell; and though I made many promises to the Lord to be better, I was soon as bad or worse than ever. After being absent from my native county seven years, I returned a drunkard." That one word expresses and reveals a whole world of misery. Domestic happiness can find no place in the home of a drunkard. His infatuation is as complete as it is terrible. The wife of a drunkard, the child of a drunkard, how much they stand in need of help and pity is only known to God. Billy well knew that the wife of a drunkard has reason to praise God when her husband is saved from intemperance if nobody else has. His wife, he tells us, had to fetch him home night after night from the beer-shop. "At one time I remember I went to get some coal; there was a beer-shop in the way " (alas! that there are so many beer-shops, for every one of them is in the way of some poor drunkard), "and coming home I went in, and stayed till I got drunk. My poor wife was forced to come for me, and wheel home the coal herself, for a drunkard would rather spend his money in drink than give it to his wife and children. At one time I had good wages for two months in a row,
and £5 of the money went in drink. I sinned against light and knowledge; and never got drunk without being condemned for it;" his conscience tormented him by day, and dreams terrified him by night. But the crisis of his life was now at hand. He was about to be recovered to truth and holiness, and Bunyan's "Visions of Heaven and Hell" was the appointed means of his recovery. The book came into his hands, and he began to read it, the "Visions of Heaven" first, and then the " Visions of Hell." Bunyan saw, he says, two lost souls in hell cursing each other for being the author of each other's misery, and that those who love one another on earth will hate one another in hell. One of Billy's companions, to whom he was much attached, was also much attached to him. They worked together, and went to the alehouse and got drunk together. The arrow that pierced his soul was the thought, "Shall S. Coad and I, who like each other so much, torment each other in hell? " From that time, November 1823, he had a strong desire to be a better man. He had married some time before; his wife had been converted when young, but had gone back from the right way before marriage. The remembrance of what she had enjoyed was very sweet, and yet very bitter. She told her husband "no tongue could tell what they enjoy who serve the Lord." "Why don't you begin again?" was his pertinent inquiry; adding, "for then I may begin too." He was ashamed to fall on his knees before his wife, "for the devil had such a hold of him;" but he knew it was his duty to pray for mercy. He went to bed without bending his knees in prayer; but about three o'clock he awoke, and thinking that if he waited until his wife was converted that he might never be saved (though he had begged she would get converted first, and then show him how to be saved, for he thought she was so much less a sinner than himself that she would soon be forgiven), he jumped out of bed and got on his knees for the first time, and forty years afterwards he could joyfully boast that he had never once since been ashamed to pray. His decision, once formed, was unalterable, "and I found," he said, "that the more I prayed the more I felt to pray." The whole morning was spent in supplication. If he had been less resolute and in earnest, the day of grace might have passed unimproved, the blessed opportunity have fled for ever. Forty years ago, on pay-days and setting-days, miners in Cornwall were in the habit of going to the alehouse to eat, drink, and get drunk. This day, so auspiciously begun, was one of those days, and Billy joined his companions as usual. "I was the worst of the lot," is his own expression. He was the wildest, most daring and reckless of all the reckless, daring men; and on one occasion so fearful was his blasphemy, that his wicked comrades declared that his oaths must come from hell, for they smelt of sulphur. His liveliness of disposition, his power of repartee, his mother-wit marked him out from others, and the same remarkable natural powers were
used to produce merriment and laughter, and to turn sacred subjects into ridicule and fun, that subsequently made him so popular and useful as a follower of the Saviour and a preacher of His gospel. The change in him was noticed by his companions, and one of them swore. This elicited the reproof, "You must give an account of that some day," when the other mockingly answered, "Shall we all go to the Bryanites meeting?" to which Billy replied it was better to go there than to hell. Reproached by another for making such a noise, he replied, "You would roar out too, if you felt my load, and roar I will until I get it off." On the first pay-day that he came home sober for many years, his wife, he says, was greatly surprised and asked, "How is it you are come home so early tonight? and she had for answer, "You will never see me drunk again, by the help of the Lord." And she never has since. Praise the Lord He can cure drunkards. "That same night I went upstairs, and prayed till we went to bed. The next day I did not go to work. I took the Bible and Wesley's Hymn-Book, went upstairs, and read and prayed all day. Sometimes I read the Bible, sometimes the Hymn Book, and then I cried to the Lord for mercy. I was glad that I had begun to seek the Lord, for it is said, "Let the heart of him who seeks the Lord rejoice." When Sunday morning came it was very wet; the Bible Christians had a class-meeting a mile from our house; I went to the place, but because it was wet none came." This had an unfavourable effect on his mind, and his I first thought was, "If a little rain will keep the people away from the house of God, I shall not join here." This hasty decision was soon reversed, for Billy was a consistent member with the Bible Christians for more than forty years, and died in communion with the people of his early choice. But how much harm lukewarm and careless professors do to inquirers after salvation and young converts it is impossible to determine. The class-meeting has perhaps been a greater benefit to Methodism than any other of her institutions. To multitudes it has been a safeguard in danger, a comfort in trouble. But in these, in some respects, degenerate days, many consider attendance at the class-meeting to be unnecessary and in some quarters it has become quite unfashionable The results have been predictable. The example of the older members has a disastrous effect on the habits of the younger ones; and a feeble, stunted piety is, unhappily, characteristic of too many of our churches. But Billy returned home, and alone with God, with the Bible and the HymnBook as his companions, he spent all that day in reading and praying. He was as sailed fiercely by the temptation " that he would never find mercy; " but with the promise, "Seek, and you shall find," he quenched this fiery dart of the wicked one, and in due time he learnt, by blessed experience, that the promise
was true. Monday morning was spent in the same way. In the afternoon he had to go to the mine. but "all the while I was working I was crying to the Lord for mercy." His sad state moved his fellow-work men to pity; he "was not like Billy Bray," they said. Why? Because he formerly told lies to make them laugh, and now he was determined to serve the Lord. No relief came, and he went home, "asking for mercy all the way." It was then eleven o'clock at night, but the first thing he did was to go upstairs and fall on his knees, and entreat God to have mercy on him. Everything else was forgotten in the intensity of his desire that the Lord would speak peace to his soul. After a while he went to bed, but not to sleep. All the morning of the next day he spent in crying for mercy, food being almost untasted, and conversation with his "partner" at the mine in the afternoon nearly ceased. That day passed away, and nearly the whole night he spent upon his knees. The enemy "thrust at him sore," but "I was glad," he says, "that I had begun to seek the Lord, for I felt I would rather be crying for mercy than living in sin." On the next day he had "almost laid hold of the blessing," but the time came for him to go to the mine (two o'clock in the afternoon). The devil strongly tempted him while at his work that he would never find mercy; "but I said to him, "You are a liar, devil," and as soon as I said so, I felt the weight gone from my mind, and I could praise the Lord, but not with that liberty I could afterwards. So I called to my comrades, "I am not so happy as some, but sooner than I would go back to sin again, I would be put in that plat there, and burned to death." When he got home on former nights he had not cared anything about supper, his anguish of soul being so great, nor did he this night, because a hope had sprung up in his heart, and with it a determination to press right into the kingdom of heaven. To his chamber he again repaired. Beautifully simple and touching are his own words. "I said to the Lord, "You have said, Those who ask shall receive, those who seek shall find, and to them that knock the door shall be opened; and I have faith to believe it." In an instant the Lord made me so happy that I cannot express what I felt. I shouted for joy. I praised God with my whole heart for what He had done for a poor sinner like me; for I could say, The Lord hath pardoned all my sins. I think this was in November 1823, but what day of the month I do not know. I remember this, that everything looked new to me, the people, the fields, the cattle, the trees. I was like a man in a new world. I spent the greater part of my time in praising the Lord. I could say with Isaiah, "O Lord, I will praise Thee, for though You wast angry with me. Thine anger is turned away, and You comfort me;" or like David, "The Lord hath brought me up out of a horrible pit of mire and clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings, and hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto my God. I was a new man altogether! I told all I met what the Lord had done for my soul. I have heard some say that they have
had hard work to get away from their companions, but I sought mine out, and had hard work to find them soon enough to tell them what the Lord had done for me. Some said I was mad; and others that they should get me back again next pay-day. But, praise the Lord, it is now more than forty years ago, and they have not got me yet. They said I was a wild-man, but they meant I was a gladman and, glory be to God I have been glad ever since."
CHAPTER II. THE FIRST-FRUITS OF HARVEST. "Of His own will He begat us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of His creatures." James 1:18. BILLY BRAY'S own account of his conversion bears the impress of truth and reality. The sceptic who tried to reason him out of his convictions, or to rob him of his perfect peace, his living joy, his immortal hope, utterly failed. I have witnessed some such attempts; but, as Billy said, they had no more effect than "a drop of water upon a duck's back." If nothing is so divine as experience, and if the deeper it is the diviner, Billy had good reason to be satisfied with his. His was no ordinary struggle, but it ended in perfect liberty of soul. He could say - "No condemnation now I dread." The conflict was terrible, but t he victory was all the more glorious. The trial of his faith was sharp, the reward was sweeter ever afterwards. He knew more certainly, how inconceivably great and glorious was the salvation which is by faith in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. He was filled with a holy rapture of soul, which nothing could restrain. His words, his tones, his looks, had a magnetic power. He was, so to speak, charged with a divine electricity, and the effects thereof were sudden and marvellous. He could no more help speaking of Christ and His salvation than the sun can help shining, or the trees in spring can help budding and blossoming; into beauty and life. The light that was kindled flashed with unusual splendour, but it increased in brightness even unto the end. His wife was first to yield to his holy entreaties, and about a week after wards in Hicks' Mill Chapel (which has been, happily, the birthplace of hundreds of souls) she regained the blessing she had lost. He had spent much of his time in his unconverted state in telling lies to make fun, as his companions called it; "but now I could tell them a new tale about heavenly truths, and what the Lord had done for me." This was not so pleasing to many; but "it was not long before some of them were as mad as I was." The open confession of Christ is a solemn duty cf His followers; it is an inestimable privilege also. How much this duty is neglected, how much this privilege is despised, multitudes know to their sorrow. Billy's words thrill us with joy, and yet produce much self-reproach and self-condemnation as we transcribe them. "There were men who professed to be converted before I was, but did not love the Lord enough to own Him, and us enough to pray with us and tell us we were going to hell. But when I was converted, praise the Lord, He gave me strength to tell all I met with, that I was happy, and that what the Lord had
done for me He would do for anybody else that would seek His face. There was nobody that prayed in the mine where I worked; but when the Lord converted my soul He gave me power to pray with the men before we went to our different places to work. Sometimes I felt it a heavy cross, but the cross is the way to the crown. Sometimes I have had as many as from six to ten men down with me, and I have said, "Now, if you will hearken to me, I will pray for you before we go to work, for if I did not pray with you, and any of us should be killed, I should think it was my fault." Some of them would say, "You pray and God will hear you." Then I should pray in what people call simple language, but as I hope the Lord would have me. When praying I used to say, "Lord, if any of us must be killed, or die to-day, let it be me; let not one of these men die, for they are not happy; but I am, and if I die to-day I shall go to heaven." When I rose from my knees, I should see the tears running down their faces; and soon after some of them became praying men too." The individual cases of conversion are too numerous for us to relate here; but one or two may be given as specimens of the rest. "An old man, called William S , with his son, used to work near me, and as they were not converted I used to tell them what the Lord was willing to do for them, and then I would kneel down and pray for them until the tears came into the old man's eyes. But such power has the devil over poor sinners, that soon after I should hear him swearing at his son. And I was tempted not to pray with him again, but, thank the Lord, I did not yield to the temptation. I continued to pray with him, and before the poor old man died he was made very happy in Jesus." If every one only felt that he was a voice for Christ, how many would hear the gospel that go down into the grave in silence; if every one only felt that he was a hand for Christ, how many would be snatched from death and destruction who now become an easy prey to the Evil One. Take another case: - "There was Justin T ,who was with me in Devonshire; we were companions in drunkenness, and came home to Cornwall at the same time. I was converted before he was; and when I told my comrades what danger the wicked were in, and where they would go if they died in sin, they would persecute me, and call me a fool. But J. T. used to say, "You shall leave that man alone, and say nothing to him, for I knew him when he was a drunkard, and now he is a good man; I wish I was like him." Then my heart went out after J. T.. One day when at work in the field, I knelt down to pray for him. The Lord spoke to my mind, "I will save him soon." When I next saw him I told him I had good news for him, for while I was out in the field praying for him the Lord told me he should be converted soon. And so he was. Shortly after his conversion he was taken ill. I saw him many times in his illness, and he told me he was happy in Jesus, and
going to heaven to praise God for ever." Some parts of this narrative may appear to be strange and inexplicable even to some of the Lord's children. They never heard the Lord speak to them in the way just described. Would that they had! For when God impresses people to pray for any particular blessing, it is a sure sign that He is about to give that blessing to them. Definiteness of aim in prayer, combined with a holy persistency, will surely hit the mark. We quote just one more case, as it illustrates Billy's quickness of thought, and the happy way in which he could turn a phrase, for which he was so remarkable. "I worked with a man before I was converted called William Bray, and he was, like myself, a very wicked man. Both of us were promoted at the same time, for he was made captain of the mine, and I was adopted into the royal family of heaven, and made a child of God. I had not seen him for a long time, when one Monday i evening it was impressed on my mind that if I went to I see him he would be saved. And I went, nothing doubting, and found him at home. I prayed with him; told him what the Lord would do for him; and soon ha found the Saviour, and was made happy in His love. I saw him many times in his last sickness, and he was very happy and full of faith. Just before he died he sent for me, as he wanted to tell me that Christ was his. Then he had a good shout, and said, "Christ is mine, and I am His." These were the last words he spoke to me, and soon after he was taken to paradise. Since then, four of his children have gone to meet him, and his wife will no doubt soon, for she too is in the road to heaven." Mr Ashworth truly says that Billy was one of those "happy, unselfish men who love everybody, and with simple earnestness he spoke to all - rich or poor - about the love of Jesus. He gloried in religious revivals, and shouted for joy when he heard of souls being saved any where." Mr A. illustrates this trait of his character by relating an extraordinary incident, full details of which the Rev. W. Haslam, of Little Missenden, Bucks, has, at my request, kindly supplied. He says: - "I had often heard of Billy Bray at Baldhu, from his brother James, and wished very much to see him. One morning, three months after my conversion, I heard someone walking about in the hall of my house, praising the Lord. I rose from the breakfast table, and opened the door to see who my happy unceremonious visitor could be; - and then for the first time beheld this queer looking man. I asked him who he was. He replied, with a face beaming with joy - " I am Billy Bray - be you the passon?" "Yes," I answered. "Converted, are ye?" "Yes, thank God."
"Be the missus converted?" "Yes." "Thank the dear Lord." said he, coming into the room to make his bow to the said missus. Then he inquired of her if she had any maids in the house. "Yes, there are three." "Are they converted?" "Yes." "Where be they?" "In the kitchen." So he proceeded thither, and soon we heard them all praising the Lord in Cornish style with a loud voice. After a time Billy joined us again in the dining-room, to take, by invitation, some breakfast, but before he sat down he approached me and suddenly put his arm round me, and took me up, and carried me round the table, and then, setting me down at my chair, rolled on the floor for joy, and said he was as happy as he could live. We persuaded him to sit down and get some breakfast, as he had been riding in a slow-going donkey cart since midnight through the cold night air of January. He said he had heard of our conversion, and had been begging Father to give him leave to visit us. He received permission to do so just as he was getting into bed at half-past eleven. So he put up his clothes again, and ' hitched in the donkey,' and came along singing all the way.! Then he proceeded to tell us why he was so anxious to see us. He said, some years before that time he was walking over the place where the house stands, and the Lord said to him, "I will give you all that dwell on this mountain." So he knelt down immediately and prayed for all who lived there, and then proceeded to the various cottages which were situated on that hill, and continued to visit the people in those cottages till they were all brought to the Lord. Then he knelt down and complained that there were only three housen there, and received a promise that there should be some more. He never forgot this, but continually mentioned it in his prayers to the Lord till, to his joy, one day he received a letter from his brother James to say they were planting the hill and going to build a church there, and then his brother wrote to say they were building a house (the Vicarage) - then again another house (the School). Dear Billy redoubled his efforts of prayer and faith, and when the church was opened he came to see and hear for himself, and was disgusted and disappointed to find a Pusey there preaching. He went away unhappy, and it came to his mind that he had no business to come to see till Father had bidden. So he departed to the neighbourhood of Bodmin where he then lived, and remained there. After a few years news reached him of the clergyman's conversion, and also that there was a great revival in the place. He then praised God and begged permission to go and see this passon and his missus, and
continued to beg till he obtained permission. (The reader will be interested in the following account of the conversion of this good clergyman, from his own pen. "In the hey-day of my prosperity, and in the success of my sacramental ministrations, while I thought the church was the Ark - and no salvation could be had out of the church, except by some uncovenanted mercy - one of my most promising disciples, a regular communicant and zealous churchman, was taken seriously ill, and was pronounced to be in hopeless ' galloping consumption.' The man was my own servant, a gardener, and one to whom I was much attached; not exactly my spiritual child in the gospel, but my ecclesiastical child in churchmanship, and a strong adherent who, with many others, upheld me and encouraged me in a place abounding with gospel men, against Dissenters of various kinds. This man's heart failed him in the prospect of death; his views and religious practices did not comfort him in the hour some one walking about in the hall of my house, praising the Lord. I rose from the breakfast table, and opened the door to see who my happy, unceremonious visitor of need, or give him assurance. He heard of others who could say their sins were pardoned, and read their title clear to mansions in the skies, whereas, with his, as he thought, superior teaching, he was yet afraid to die. He ventured to send for some Dissenter to talk to him and pray with him, who went to work in a way just the reverse of the priest. Instead of building up and comforting, the man plainly showed him he was a lost sinner, and needed to come to Jesus, just as he was, for salvation and pardon. The man was confident, "Pray for yourself," said he; and he set before him the finished work of Christ, as the sinner's substitute. The gardener was brought under deep conviction, and eventually found pardon and peace through the blood of Jesus. This was a great disappointment. Instead of rejoicing with Christ over a lost sheep which he had found, I was angry with the sheep for being found, and deeply mourned over what I considered a fall into schism! Grieved as I was, however, I loved my disciple, and went to see him, though not till after several urgent invitations to go. I endeavoured to reclaim him, but the man was too firmly persuaded to be shaken from "the truth as it is in Jesus." Instead of lying on a bed of suffering, he was walking about the room, praising God in a most joyful state. "Ah, John, you are excited, you have been taking wine!" "No, master," said the man, "I have not touched a drop of it - no, dear no, that is not it, dear master. I know you love me and I love you - you don't know this joy and peace, I am sure you don't, or you would have told me of it. O master, I pray the Lord to give it to you; I will never rest praying for you - don't be angry with me - the Lord bless you and convert your soul! You have been a kind good friend to me, I cannot forget or leave you. I will pray for you while I live, for the Lord to save your soul." I could
not stand this pleading, and fled from the house in a tumult of disappointment and confusion. His heart was now broken for work. A visit to a brother clergyman deepened his convictions; for he plainly told him that if he had been converted he would have rejoiced in that man's salvation and praised God with him, and that he would never do any good in his parish till he was converted himself. So deep became his distress, that, when the bell tolled for service on the following Sunday morning, he trembled and feared to preach; but while preaching on the words - "What think ye of Christ" the Lord showed him so clearly that Christ was the true and only foundation, the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world, that his soul was filled with joy, as full of joy as it had been of misery! The fervour and earnestness with which he now proclaimed a present salvation caused a general cry for mercy, and many of his parishioners were saved. It was no wonder that Billy wished to see him, to give his eyes a treat, and to witness some of the blessed results of his prayer of faith years before.) After breakfast he went off to the school-house, and found the schoolmaster and his wife both converted, then to another house where the people were all converted. His joy was unbounded, he jumped and danced, and clapped his hands, he shouted and he sang! The happy man was beside himself, and beyond himself! He began to publicly exhort men to repent, and turn to God, about a year after his conversion. Towards the end of 1824 his name was put on the Local Preachers' Plan, and his labours were much blessed in the conversion of souls. He did not commonly select a text, as is the general habit of preachers, but he usually began his addresses by reciting a verse of a hymn, a little of his own experience, or some telling anecdote. But he had the happy are of pleasing and profiting the people, so that people of all ages, the young as much as the old, of all classes, the rich as much as the poor, and of all characters, the worldly as much as the pious, flocked to hear him, and he retained his popularity until the last. As the Rev. M. G. Pearse says, " From one end of Cornwall to another no name is more familiar than that of Billy Bray. On Sundays, when one met crowds of strangers making for the little whitewashed chapel that was perched up amongst the granite boulders, or when one found the quiet church town thronged by the well-dressed people, the usual explanation was that Billy Bray was going to preach. If you had overtaken Billy on the way you could not have been long in doubt as to who he was. A little, spare, wiry man, whose dress of orthodox black, and the white tie, indicated the preacher. The sharp, quick, discerning eye that looked out from under the brows, the mouth almost hard in its decision, all the face softened by the light that played constantly upon it, and by the happy wrinkles round the eyes, and
the smile that had perpetuated itself, - these belonged to no ordinary man. And with the first suspicion that this was Billy Bray there would quickly come enough to confirm it. If you gave him half a chance there would certainly be a straightforward question about your soul, in wise, pithy words. And if the answer was what it should be, the lanes would ring with his happy thanksgiving." I remember once hearing him speak with great effect to a large congregation, principally miners. In that neighbourhood there were two mines, one very prosperous, and the other quite the reverse, for the work was hard, and the wages low. He represented himself as working at that mine, but on pay-day going to the prosperous one for his wages. But had he not been at work at the other mine? the manager inquired. He had, but he liked the wages at the good mine the best. He pleaded very earnestly, but in vain. He was dismissed at last with the remark, from which there was no appeal, that he must come there to work if he came there for his wages. And then he turned on the congregation, and the effect was almost irresistible, that they must serve Christ here if they would share His glory hereafter, but if they would serve the devil now, to him they must go for their wages by and by. If he quoted the wonderful saying of our Lord, "I am the bread of life," he would proceed in some such strain as this: Precious loaf this! The patriarchs and prophets eat of this loaf, and never found a bit of crust about it. The apostles and martyrs eat of this loaf, too, for many long years and never found a bit of crust in it And, bless the Lord! poor old Billy Bray can eat it without teeth, and get fat on it." Mr Tabb says that at the opening of Trecrogo Chapel, in the Launceston Circuit, the crowd that came to hear Billy was so great they were obliged to have the service in a field. The subject of his address was"' Happiness," and, as his custom was, he interspersed his discourse with some pointed remarks on Teetotalism. Thinking that some of his hearers would probably think he was pressing the duty of self-denial and self-sacrifice too closely, he burst out - "You may think we have nothing to drink, but we have. My father keeps a wineshop." An apt reference to Isa. 25:6 followed. And his imagination once fired, the most fastidious could listen to him with pleasure, and even the wise and learned to edification. At such times he would generally express his determination to live up to his glorious privileges, and enjoy the varied abundance of his Father's house. Some could only eat out of the silent dish, but he could eat out of that, and out of the shouting dish, and jumping dish, and every other. His preaching was effectual because he prayed much. By prayer he opened God's hand when it was filled with blessings, and by prayer, too, he kept the
devil under restraint, who was to Billy Bray, as we shall clearly see further on, just as he was to Martin Luther, and John Bunyan, and George Fox, a very real person. This is strikingly characteristic of him. Mr Maynard says, "Many a time, when he and I have been leaving my home together, he has said to me, "Now, friend Maynard, let us pray a minute before we go, or else the devil will be scratching me on the way. If I leave without praying, this is the way he serves me; but when I get on my knees a minute or two before leaving I cut his ould claws, and then he can't harm me: so I always like to cut his claws before I go." There was great excitement, and much apparent confusion, in some of his meetings, more than sufficient to shock the prejudices of highly-sensitive and refined, or over-fastidious people. Billy could not tolerate deadness, as he expressively called it, either in a professing Christian or in a meeting. He had a deeper sympathy with people singing, or shouting, or leaping for joy than he had with "The speechless awe that dares not move, And all the silent heaven of love;" but his services, with all their simplicity and warmth, were distasteful only to a few, and many were so far convinced that his method was right, or were so far influenced and attracted, as heartily to join with him. He speaks of one who worked with him in Devonshire, and returned at the same time to Cornwall. They were also converted together, but while Billy joined the Bible Christians, his companion cast in his lot with the Wesleyan Methodists. Their names were put on the plan at the same time, and when Billy was appointed at a chapel near where his friend lived he came to hear him, but would leave immediately after the preacher had done speaking, as he could not enjoy the subsequent proceedings, some singing, some praying, some shouting, some dancing, scenes to be frequently witnessed when the Cornish people get what they call "the victory" through the blood of the Lamb. But one Saturday night John had a dream which brought him to the conclusion that he was wrong in opposing shouting when the Lord made His people happy. The next night, and ever after wards, he remained until the end, and shouted as loudly and leaped as joyfully as Billy himself. He lived a good life, and died a happy death; Billy dismissing him with the characteristic remark - "So he has done with the doubters and is got up with the shouters."
CHAPTER III. JOY UNSPEAKABLE AND FULL OF GLORY. "Whom having not seen, you love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, you rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy." - I Pet. 1:8. "Rejoice in the Lord always; and again I say. Rejoice." - Phil. 4:4. HENRY WARD BEECHER says, "It is always infelicitous when men fall into the habit of speaking of religion as the mother of trials, and of their Christian experience from the side of its restrictions and dock; and another, old hard lumps of clay; and should arrange these worthless things along the sides of the room, and mourn over them. What sort of husbandry would that be? Christians are too apt to represent the dark side of religion in their conversation and meetings." It was Billy Bray's excellence and glory that he always represented the bright side of religion to his fellows; to him, indeed, it had no other. He had a nature that tended to produce joy; but whatever may be a person's temperament, the effect of the whole of religious living is unquestionably to produce joyfulness." Payson said on his dying bed, "If men only knew the honour and glory that awaited them in Christ, they would go about the streets crying out, "I am a Christian! I am a Christian!" that men might rejoice with them in the blessedness of which they were soon to partake." Billy did this all his life long, and verily he had his reward. He tells us, soon after his conversion, " I was very happy in my work and could leap and dance for joy under ground as well as on the surface. My comrades used to tell me, that was no religion, dancing,
shouting, and making so much to-do. But I was born in the fire, and could not live in the smoke. They said there was no need to leap, and dance, and make so much noise, for the Lord was not deaf, and He knows our hearts. And I would reply, "But you must know that the devil is not deaf either, and yet his servants make a great noise. The devil would rather see us doubting than hear us shouting." The reader can easily imagine what were Billy's favourite portions of Scripture and hymns, but we may quote one or two of the former that he repeated thousands of times. " You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to Thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto Thee for ever " (Psalm 30:11,12). " Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, both young men and old together, for I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice from their sorrow" (Jer 31:13), The idea that these and similar passages had a figurative and not a literal meaning, he held in the greatest contempt. If people attempted, either playfully or in earnest, to argue the point with him, he would turn upon them all his powers of wit and sarcasm, and all his treasures of experience and Scripture, and such was his holy ardour and impetuosity that from such assaults many found the only safe refuge to be either silence or flight. "David danced," he never for got to tell us, "before the Lord with all his might; "and that he "and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of a trumpet," and that what David did surely all the people might do under a happier dispensation, and that the opposition of the unconverted or formal professors was like that of Michal, Saul's daughter, who, when she saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, despised him in her heart. The song of Moses and the children of Israel after they had safely passed through the Red Sea, he also used with excellent effect. To any person who objected to the meetings on account of their noise and uproar, and many have objected to them on that account, he thought it quite enough to say that when the foundation of the second temple was laid all the people shouted with a great shout, and that the people could not discern the voice of the shout of joy from the noise of the weeping of the people: for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar off. On any who said - "But what confusion is this here? What noise of tumult do I hear? How ill it suits this place!" and who demanded that calm serenity should prevail when they worshipped God, that their pleas, like tranquil sonnets, might gently pierce the peaceful skies, he would retort " we must have a joy ourselves to know what a full joy
means;" and he hardly ever failed to add, "Our blessed Lord has said, "Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full." The account of Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem was another choice incident, sweeter to his taste than honey or the honeycomb. He used to positively revel in the statements, "And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strewed them in the way. And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" And if it happened at the time of a contested election he would sometimes ask, "May all the people shout "for ever!" and no person find fault, and may not Billy Bray shout "Jesus for ever?"" Usually, I suppose, his remarks would be to the following effect, as Mr Maynard says that he has so heard him speak many a time: " If this is worth shouting for, our election is worth far more, for those who get elected, and sent up to the House of Commons may soon die, or lose their seat at the next election, consequently their honour and happiness may not last long; but, if we get elected into the Lord's Parliament, and once get into the Parliament House of Heaven, we shall never die, never get turned out; hence, we have more reason to shout than they." But the narrative of the lame man, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which was called Beautiful, was perhaps most precious of all. And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God. If he made this incident the subject of an address, he would ask if the dear Lord could not now do as He had done in days of old? He had healed a cripple forty years old, who leaped for joy when he was healed; and Billy would leap, or run, if he had the chance, and praise God, for had not he as good a right to do so now as that cripple had then - he that was never a cripple and never was lame? - or that he had got something more than lame legs cured, his never dying soul saved? He ought, he thought, to leap four feet to his two. It was Peter who took the lame man by the hand; but it was the Lord who gave him strength in his ankle-bones, that made him run and leap. He did not praise Peter, he praised the dear Lord; and so would I. It is before the Lord we should leap and dance and shout. Satan has his merrymen and they do more wickedness by their actions than by what they say, for actions speak louder than words. Now I am a merry -man for the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the best Master, and gives the best wages. The devil gives sorrow for joy; but the Lord gives joy instead of sorrow, beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. And is all this to be denounced by men of the world, or by Christians of different temperament, as " foolish extravagance? " Was it not predicted that "
the lame man should leap as a hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing? " Billy could not understand how any could be dumb who were " born of the Spirit." They needed at least to pray, "Open You my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise." It seemed natural, at any rate, for him to sing and shout, to leap and dance, and, if we may use the word, to caper for joy, for he seemed as free from care, as frolicsome, as gay, as gladsome, as a young lamb dancing m the meadow, or goat upon the mountain crag. His joy was always fresh and pure, exultant and full, even to overflowing. "It is a poor spectacle," he would say, "when we have nothing but the telling part of the love of Christ; it is the feeling part that makes us happy." His choice friends were neither ashamed to praise the Lord in the market nor in the great congregation. Many a long journey, either alone or with such companions - birds of a feather, was his expression - has he taken, and praised the Lord all the way. He could say with the poet - "Winter nights and summer days Are far too short to sing His praise." I remember taking a walk with him early one morning, when his conversation was of heaven. He stopped, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. He remained silent for a moment with uplifted eyes, which almost immediately filled with tears; a "Praise the Lord!" escaped his lips, and he bounded away, though an old man, like a hart or deer. When I came up to him he was praising the Lord aloud, as if it was the business of his life, and said, " My dear brother, if I only lived to my privilege, I should not feel the ground over which I walk." At a district meeting held at Hicks Mill, in 1866, Mr Oliver in describing the triumphant death of a woman, said she died shouting Victory. This touched Billy's heart, and he shouted "Glory! If a dying woman praised the Lord, I should think a living man might." He would commonly address his fellow-Christians thus! "You praise God, and I will praise God, and we will both praise God together;" or, You be the parson, and I'll be the clerk; - you say, "Praise the Lord," and I'll say, "Amen!" or I'll be the parson, and you shall be the clerk - I'll1 say, "Praise the Lord," and you say, "Amen." If you did not join him in praising God, for he would always at once begin, he thought you were dead; "for is not," said he, "the Lord worthy to be praised from the rising to the setting of the sun?" and yet you will not praise Him at all." But he determined if all other tongues were silent, that his should sing God's praise; if all other harps were hung upon the willows, that his should wake the sweetest music; and if all other hearts were dull and cold and hard, his should glow and flame with the fervour of devotion. He rightly thought that a young prince of forty years of age as he used often to term himself, had abundant reason to rejoice. He was an adopted son of God,
the "King of kings," and therefore he was a prince already possessing royal rights and privileges, and for him he exulted to think his Heavenly Father had reserved everlasting glory and blessedness. I went with him one day to see a dying saint, whose character had been unblemished for many years, but whose natural disposition was modest and retiring almost to a fault. His face wore a look of ineffable dignity and repose, lit up with a strange, unearthly radiance and glory. He was just on the verge of heaven. He could only speak in a whisper. He said, " I wish I had a voice, so that I might praise the Lord!" "You should have praised Him, my brother, when you had one," was Billy's quiet, but slightly satirical comment. Billy's life was an almost perfect exemplification of the threefold injunction: "Rejoice evermore. - Pray without ceasing. - In everything give thanks." A Christian might be poor; but it was his duty to rejoice ever more; afflicted, but still he must rejoice evermore; tempted and tried and persecuted, but he must, notwithstanding, rejoice evermore; and surely this is divine heavenly wisdom, true Christian philosophy. Is there not a special blessing for the poor? Are they not often rich in faith? and has not God chosen them heirs of the kingdom? Ought not they then to rejoice? We all know that affliction is not pleasant, but painful; but afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness unto them which are trained by it. It is a proof of our Father's special love, and what is sufficient, if that is not, to cause us to rejoice? And we are expressly told that we are to count it all joy when we fall into various trials. So did Billy Bray. He could smile through his tears. The sickness of a child, the death of a wife, were powerless to silence his voice, or to repress his joy. It is said that when his wife died he was so overpowered with the thought of his dear Joey having escaped from earth's toils and sufferings to the rest and bliss of heaven, that he began to jump and dance about the room, exclaiming, "Bless the Lord! My dear Joey is gone up with the bright ones! My dear Joey is gone up with the shining angels! Glory! Glory! Glory!" "Here," he would say, "we have a little bitter; but it is mixed with a great deal of sweet." Mr C. G. Honor, Primitive Methodist minister, says that at a love-feast in their chapel at St Blazey, when Billy was present, several people spoke of their trials, but said that their blessings more than counterbalanced them. At length Billy rose; clapping his hands and smiling, he said, "Well, friends, I have been taking vinegar and honey, but, praise the Lord, I've had the vinegar with a spoon, and the honey with a ladle.'' He had trials as others, but " it was not worth while to speak or write anything about them." Was he not on the road to heaven, and why should not he praise God every step of the way? "I would rather walk to heaven," he has often said, "than ride to hell even in a fine carriage." But it excites a smile to hear him speak of showing people how we shall "walk the golden streets in heaven, and with golden
slippers, too." The death-chamber of many a godly and devout believer has been filled with his praises. Blessed use he has made of this incident in the life of the Rev. John Fletcher. Mrs F. says, "On Wednesday he told me he had received such a manifestation of the full meaning of those words, God is love, as he could never be able to express. "It fills my heart," said he, "every moment. O Polly, my dear Polly, God is love! Shout! shout aloud! I want a gust of praise to go to the ends of the earth." Billy nearly always expressed a wish when he visited the sick and dying, that he might "see them in heaven, dressed in robes of glorious brightness; for, "he would add, in his quietest vein of humour, "if I saw them there, I must be there myself too. They say that every man has got a little self, and so have I too, for "I long to be there, His glory to share, And to lean on Jesus' breast." If people said he praised God too "loud" he would point heavenward and say, "Up there, we shall praise Him "more sweet, more loud;" and sometimes, "If the Lord were to stop my breath this moment" (sudden death he used to call the fields' way to heaven), "I should be with Him in heaven at once. I have a heaven with going to heaven." "The men of grace have found glory begun below." If any man could sing, "Heaven is my home," it was Billy Bray. He said to a young friend on going to bed one night, "If you find me dead in the morning, mind you shout Hallelujah!" She told him she did not think it likely she should. "Why not?" he asked. "You might, for it would be all right." Blessed, blessed experience this! To be able to say truthfully, confidently, "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain," is certainly the highest privilege of men here; and this Billy could say always. We may fitly close this chapter by the relation of two or three little incidents which illustrate the man and his character more fully than the most elaborate description could do. In a friend's house, in Falmouth, he exhorted those present to praise the Lord. Speaking of himself, he said, "I can't help praising the Lord. As I go along the street I lift up one foot, and it seems to say, "Glory!" and I lift up the other, and it seems to say "Amen;" and so they keep on like that all the time I am walking." Calling at a friend's house at a time when he had two or three visitors, he received a hearty welcome to remain and dine with them. He soon began to praise the Lord, which was as natural to him as for the birds to sing. He was asked if it was not possible for a man to get in the habit of praising the Lord without knowing what he was saying. He very coolly said that he did not think the Lord was much troubled with that class of people. On one occasion, when in the Penzance Circuit on special work, he slept at
T.A.'s house. Very early in the morning Billy was out of bed, jumping, dancing, and singing the praises of God as usual. T. A. said, "Billy, why are you out thus so early? You will disturb the family, and perhaps give offence." The next moment Billy was again leaping and praising the Lord, and then, naming the members of the household and T. A., said, "They might lie and sleep and let their wheels get rusty if they liked, but he would see to it that his wheels were kept nicely oiled, and ready for work!" Then he fell on his knees and prayed aloud for the master and the mistress of the house and the members of the family, while his prayer for T. A. was that the "Lord would have mercy on him, and make him a better man than he appears to be" When Mr Gilbert was in the St Austell Circuit the first time, Billy came to the anniversary of Tywardreath Highway Chapel. The chapel was so full that, when he came to the door, it was with difficulty he could get in; but he had no sooner uttered, in his own peculiar tone, the words, "Bless the Lord! little Billy Bray is come once more to Highway," than, as if by magic, a passage was made for him through the crowded audience. On reaching the pulpit he began to dance and shout because "little Billy Bray was again at Highway." He read the first line of the hymn beginning - "Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing," and then said, "Just think, that's nine hundred and ninety -nine more than I have got." Mr Gilbert says that he spent an hour or two with him in the evening, "I told him that I had seen his mother at Twelveheads, and that I found her in a very blessed frame of mind, and that whilst I was praying with her she became so happy that, although quite blind, she jumped and danced about the house, shouting the praises of God! Billy at once became much excited, and, rising from his chair, began to dance also. He then said, "Dear old soul! dance, did she? I am glad to hear that. Bless the Lord! Well, I dance sometimes. Why shouldn't I dance as well as David? David, you say. was a king; well, bless the Lord! I am a King's Son! I have as good a right to dance as David had. Bless the Lord! I get very happy at times; my soul gets full of the glory, and then I dance too! I was home in my chamber t'other day, and I got so happy that I danced, and the glory came streaming down upon my soul, and it made me dance so lustily that my heels went down through the floor" Mr Gilbert adds: "When Billy was about to leave, in company with a youth who had come with him, he said, "Johnny and I, we'll make the valleys ring with our singing and praising as we go home!" I said, "Then you are a singer, Billy?" "Oh yes, bless the Lord! I can sing. My heavenly Father likes to hear me sing. I can't sing so sweetly as some; but my Father likes to hear me sing as well as those who sing better than I can. My Father likes to hear the crow as well as the nightingale, for He made them
both." Mr Robins informs me that at a chapel anniversary he said at one time: "I went in to Truro to buy a frock for the little maid, and coming home I felt very happy, and got catching up my heels a little bit, and I danced the frock out of the basket. When I came home Joey said, "William, where's the frock?" I said, "I don't know, es en-a in the basket?@ No,' said Joey. "Glory be to God," I said, "I danced the frock out of the basket." The next morning I went to the class-meeting, and one was speaking of his trials, and another was speaking of his trials, and I said, "I've got trials too, for yesterday I went into Truro, and bought a frock for the little maid. Coming home I got catching up my heels a little bit, and I danced the frock out of the basket." So they gave me the money I had paid for the frock, and two or three days afterwards some one picked up the frock and brought it to me; so I had two frocks for one Glory!" and he closed his narration with one of his favourite sayings when people opposed and persecuted him for singing and shouting so much, "If they were to put me into a barrel, would shout glory out through the bung-hole! Praise the Lord!" The Rev. S. W. Christophers says that the first time he saw and heard Billy, among other things he said was this: "If Billy gets work, he praises the Lord; when he gets none, he sings all the same. Do'e think that he'll starve Billy? No, no, there's sure to be a bit of flour in the bottom of the barrel for Billy. I can trust in Jesus, and while I trust 'im, He'd as soon starve Michael the Archangel as He'd starve Billy!" "The next time I heard that voice was when, to all human appearance, I was about to depart from this mortal life. The hallowed stillness of my bed-room was then broken by the distant sound of the well-known "Hallelujah!" and then the jubilant tones of the faithful soul as he mounted the stairs singing - "There, there, at His feet we shall suddenly meet." I was raised up to see and hear Billy again, many, many times. I remember somebody saying to him as he sat at a friend's table, "How long should I pray at a time to keep my soul healthy?" "Do 'e see that there piece of brass?" replied he, pointing to a polished ornament on the chimney-piece. "If you give that five minutes rub every now and then you'll keep it bright; but if you let 'im go a long time without it, you will have a long job to clean bright again..' "
CHAPTER IV. CHAPEL BUILDING. "You will arise, and have mercy upon Zion: for the time to favour her,hass come. For your servants take pleasure in her stones, and favour the dust of them." - Ps. 102:13, 14. PROBABLY no part of England is better supplied with places of religious worship than the county of Cornwall. The great majority of these have been built by the self-denying efforts and liberality of the poor rather than by the encouragement and munificence of people belonging to the wealthier classes. The power and efficacy of the voluntary principle may be here witnessed in full operation on a large scale. The people generally have put their shoulder to the wheel, and have preferred to help themselves to being dependent on the charity of others - they have trusted almost wholly to God's blessing on their own exertions. "Methodism," as the late Bishop of Exeter told us, "is the mother-church of Cornwall," and its different sections have a strong hold upon the affections and sympathies of the population; and not withstanding some defects of character, and extravagances of worship - ignorantly or wickedly exaggerated by some High-Church writers - they are honourably distinguished for their sobriety and intelligence, and, greater honour still, as a God-fearing, Christ-loving, and Sabbath-keeping people. For this result we are largely indebted to men of the Billy Bray type. This will be more evident in subsequent chapters, but we have now to furnish some particulars of his early chapelbuilding enterprises, in which, as in all his actions, he sought to do his Master's
will and promote His glory. Billy's own version of those occurrences, which are so widely known and so deeply interesting, is as follows: - "In the neighbourhood where I lived there were a great many dark-minded, wicked people, and chapels were few. The Lord put it into my mind to build a chapel. My mother had a small place; and by one of her little fields there was a small piece of common. The Lord opened my mother's heart to give a spot on that piece of common to build on. When my mother gave me the ground, I began to work as the dear Lord told me, and to take away the hedge of my mother's field, and to dig out the foundation for a chapel, or a house to worship God in, which was to be called Bethel. Many will have to bless God for ever that Bethel Chapel was built, for many are in heaven already that were born there. In that day there was but one little chapel in our neighbour hood, at a place called Twelveheads, which belonged to the Wesleyans. Our people had a little old house to preach in, which would hold only twenty or thirty people. So we wanted a place to preach in, and the people a place to hear in. Paul had a thorn in the flesh, and so had I. For I had not only the wicked against me; but a little class which was held in the house where we preached; most of them turned against me, and tried to set the preachers against me. But with all they could do, they could not hurt me, though they made me uneasy at times. When I had got out the foundation of the Lord's house, we had preaching on the foundation-stone. Mr A. says that Billy, standing on the stone, said, "If this new chapel, which they say is to be called Bethel, stands one hundred years, and one soul be converted in it every year, that will be one hundred souls, and one soul is worth more than all Cornwall." He then danced on the stone, and shouted "Glory, glory, bless the Lord!" On the day that it was laid one of our neighbours said he would not give anything towards Billy Bray's chapel. He had two horses that drew the whim at the mine; one of them was taken lame in the field, and lost many days' work. Then the people said that the horse was taken lame because the owner would not give anything to Billy Bray's chapel. But the people must know that it was not mine, but the dear Lord's chapel. And it may be the Lord punished him for not giving anything to His chapel. But the chapel was never much good to that man, for he died very soon after; and the Lord enabled me to build the chapel without his help, bless and praise His holy name. When I had taken down the field hedge, cleared out the foundation, had got some stone home to the place where the chapel was to be built, when the masons had put up some of the walls, and I had £1, 15 s. given me by friends, the devil entered into some of my class-mates, who said that the chapel ought not to be built there; and when my class-mates saw that they could not stop me, they went to the superintendent of the circuit and told him that he ought to stop me from building the chapel there, for that was not the place, it ought to