XIII.

GIDEON OUSELEY: THE APOSTLE OF IRELAND.

METHODISM won some of its most remarkable triumphs among the warm-hearted and sympathetic Irish people. John Wesley crossed the Irish Channel forty-two times, and Dr. Coke more often still. In Cork, where Wesley was mobbed and maltreated, and burned in effigy, he was afterward received with gladness as a popular hero. Some of the most devoted, eloquent and successful Methodist preachers have gone from the Green Isle to every land where Methodism is known. Few lands have profited more by their ministry than the United States and Canada, where the germs of Methodism were planted by Barbara Heck and the Irish Palatines.

The name and fame of the Rev. Gideon Ouseley linger in the memory of thousands of Irish Methodists scattered throughout the world. The story of his remarkable life has been sketched by the skilful pen of the Rev. William Arthur, the author of "The Tongue of Fire." From that book we reproduce

some of the characteristic scenes of his heroic ministry.

This apostle of Methodism in Ireland was born in the town of Dunmore, County of Galway, 1762, and

there he spent the first thirty years of his life. He was of "gentle blood," as it is phrased, which gave him a passport to the affections of the Irish peasantry. Sir Ralph Ouseley distinguished himself in the Peninsular campaign, and once fought a duel for the honour of his brother Gideon, whose street preaching had been ridiculed by an officer of his mess.

The future evangelist, in his early years, was a typical rollicking Irish blade, full of fun and frolic, at home at a horse-race or a dance, and only too prone to the hilarious social habits of his class and country at that time. Shortly after his marriage, which was a genuine love-match, the accidental discharge of a fowling-piece in the hands of a comrade, who had been drinking at the village inn, destroyed the sight of one of his eyes. During his long confinement, his wife beguiled the tedium of his convalescence by reading the Scriptures, Young's "Night Thoughts," and other serious books. Though his outer vision was darkened, the eyes of his understanding were opened, and he became an earnest seeker after God, "if haply he might find Him." It is at this moral crisis of his life that we take up the genial narrative of William Arthur from which we abridge the following sketch:

When a detachment of the Fourth Royal Irish Dragoon Guards marched into the cavalry barracks of Dunmore, it did not strike anyone in the town that the event was to have any connection with the future religious life of Gideon Ouseley. But it had not long been there before the little place was ringing

with news of strange doings at the head inn. This was kept by Mrs. Kennedy, a Roman Catholic, who had a large room, called in the place "the public room," which she let to showmen, conjurers, and such other worthies as were candidates for an audience in Dunmore. Some of the new soldiers, headed by Quartermaster Robinet, came to inquire about the room, and engaged it for frequent use to hold meetings. That dragoons should resort to a public-house was nothing new, and as to what kind of meetings theirs would be, few people would think it worth while to guess.

When the new soldiers assembled, there was something strange about their proceedings. Voices and singing were heard, and there was no drink. What could they be doing? The people of the inn listened, and others gathered; and it came to be credibly reported in the town that the troopers met to pray, and that they sang hymns and read the Bible and did something like preaching. The Quartermaster seemed to be a kind of parson for them, but he had no prayer-book. This was enough to excite a place more exposed to events than Dunmore. What could they be?

The clergy of both "church and chapel" combined to lead the laugh against the praying soldiers; but some of the people, perhaps, thought that the parsons themselves had better be more given to prayer. Some affirmed that the Quartermaster and his band were Methodists, and the bulk of the people asked, what was that? to whom the wiser replied that it was a

new religion. But the great question was, What could lead men to act so? And each very wise man in the place had his own view as to that deep secret. Had they met for any kind of folly and wickedness, the town-folk would not have found it necessary to seek below the surface for motives. But meetings for worship! It was, however, remarked that, whatever else the men might be, they were steady.

The soldiers seemed open enough, and asked everybody to come and see. Presently one and another of the poorer classes did come, and the plain words of the Quartermaster told upon both heart and life. But the oddity of a man in that military array, such as the cavalry uniform then was, standing up and preaching, and that without any book to preach from, passed everything; and still the wonder grew.

Mr. Ouseley, of course, heard the talk, shared in the wonder, and adopted some wise man's notion that they had an underhand design, to cover which all this show was adopted. Still he wanted to know what their design could be, and no two agreed on that point. But he was so sure that there was something of the kind that he would not venture into their meetings. After a time, however, he resolved to do so, feeling perfectly confident that he would detect "some design, some trick."

It was in April, 1791, that the powerful man of twenty-nine years of age, with one eye blind, and the other full of shrewdness and roguery, came in and faced the Quartermaster, determined to find him out. With the one keen eye he watched every movement,

and with both ears he hearkened to the exhortation and to the prayers of Robinet and of some of his men. When all was over, what had he found out? He was compelled to confess, nothing-not even a new religion.

Gradually he felt that he had done injustice to the Quartermaster, and that, whatever he might be, he really had no design or trick covered under his appearances, but, on the contrary, was a true man. Soon esteem and confidence replaced his old suspicions. He invited Mr. Robinet to his house. Encouraged by the appearances in the place, the Quartermaster at length appealed to the Methodist preachers to visit Dunmore.

Ouseley was soon under deep conviction of sin. But," he said, "I must count the cost. I am a young man, and may live, say, forty years, and to be under restraint all that time, as if buried alive, would be dreadful. I am not willing to undertake to be tied down to obey that book (the Bible) for the remainder of my life. Then I considered the possibility that I might die before the morning; and even should I survive for forty years, and then be cast into hell for all eternity! This decided the matter. I had such a view of eternity, of being cast into everlasting misery, never-never-never to be released! I fell upon my knees, and cried, 'O God, I will submit!'

"Now," said I, "what shall I begin to do? I do not know, unless somebody teach me. Then three classes of Christian teachers passed in review before me. The first, the Roman Catholic priests. No, no;