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.

When they reached St. Ives, Mr. Wesley's first care was to see to the
comfort of his horses and driver. He got warm clothing, and refreshments
at the inn for Peter, and comfortable stabling for his weary horses;
then, quite forgetting himself, wet through with the dashing waves, he
went off to the chapel to preach.

While Mr. Wesley was in Cornwall he paid a flying visit to the Scilly
Isles. He went over in a fisherman's boat, and sang to the rising and
falling of the waves:

"When passing through the watery deep,
I ask in faith His promised aid;
The waves an awful distance keep,
And shrink from my devoted head.
Fearless, their violence I dare;
They cannot harm,--for God is there."

If you look in your Wesley's Hymn-Book, at hymn 272, you will find this
verse.

You have all learnt, in your geographies, that Land's End is the most
southern point in England; look at the very south of Cornwall, and you
will find it. Mr. Wesley was very fond of this wild, rocky point, with
oceans rolling on either side,--the English Channel on the one, the
mighty Atlantic on the other. He paid a last visit to it when he was an
old, old man, eighty years or more. With furrowed cheeks, white hair
streaming in the wind, and infirm limbs, he climbed over the steep rocks
to get a long, last look at his favourite spot, the meeting of t