This extraordinary Irish minister and missionary, was born in the town of Dunmore, County of Galway, Ireland, in the year 1762, and was descended from an ancient Irish family of great respectability.

While a boy, being the eldest son, he was not designed by his father for any profession, but being the heir-apparent to his father’s estate, he received such an education as was common for gentlemen of respectability to give their eldest sons that is, he received a thorough mathematical and classical education. His younger brother was educated for the army, and was afterward distinguished as Major General, Sir Ralph Ouseley.

At an early age, Gideon was the subject of deep religious feelings, and when he attained to man’s estate, his serious impressions, instead of wearing off, gradually increased, until at length his seriousness deepened into pungent conviction for sin, and he would often cry out, “Lord, help me! What shall I do? Who will teach me? Priest and minister no better than myself — as great fools as I am. We are all a pack of fools together!”

While in this state of mind, bordering on skepticism on the one hand, and despair on the other, his native village was visited in 1789, by certain Methodist preachers. From these men of God he received much light in regard to spiritual things, but it was not until 1791, that his convictions assumed a decidedly evangelical character. During the latter year, he attended Methodist preaching one evening, and after sermon, the preacher invited the Society to remain, and also other seriously disposed persons.

Mr. Ouseley having been a sincere inquirer after the right way, felt inclined to stay, but feared there might be some secret proceedings, with which he could not concur, if he did remain. “I’ll wait,” said he to himself, “until I see what they are about; but if I find any juggling — free-mason’s tricks, among them, I’ll have nothing to do with them.” He did stay, and the fact of his having attended again, and again after that, proves that his fears in the first instance were uncalled for. This means of grace — class-meeting — for such it was, was rendered a peculiar blessing to Mr. Ouseley, as it led him to examine more closely his own heart, and to learn where absolution of sin must be obtained, if obtained at all; and so great was his anxiety of mind increased, that he has frequently been afterward heard to say in reference to that period, “I got such a sight of hell, and of going into it, never, never to be released through all eternity, that I cried from my heart, ‘O, Lord, I will submit!’” And when he did thus fully submit, “pardon, and peace, and heaven,” were infused into his mind. The fruits of justification were immediately manifested by him, by going from house to house, and from neighbor to neighbor, inviting them to come to Christ.

Rev. Mr. Woodrow was at that time on the circuit where Mr. Ouseley lived, and to that holy and gifted man was he greatly indebted, as an instrument of his conversion to God. At one of the places on the circuit, the Episcopal church was undergoing repairs, and the Church service was held in the Methodist chapel. The late Archdeacon of Tuam, the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Trench, was at that time rector of the parish. Mr. Woodrow would frequently hear the rector at noon, and the rector in turn would hear Mr. Woodrow in the evening. After hearing the latter preach one evening, on the doctrine of the new birth, he remarked, “If all the Methodist preachers can preach like that good man, it is not surprising that the whole world follow them.” This same Dr. Trench, when Archbishop of Tuam, invited the Wesleyan missionaries into his province, and recommended them to some of the leading families in the country, so that Methodism in this part of the country was patronized, and its ministers honored by many of the influential in Church and State.

But to return to our subject. Mr. Ouseley could not long satisfy his conscience with merely warning his neighbors to flee from the wrath to come. He believed that a dispensation of the Gospel was committed to him; yet he felt his own weakness and unworthiness so much, that he scarcely dared to venture on errands of mercy to others. He would exclaim, “Lord, I am a poor ignorant creature; how can I go?” Then it would rush into his mind, “Do you know the disease?” “O yes, Lord, I do!” “And do you not know the cure?” “O yes, glory be to thy name, I do.” “Then go and tell them of the disease and the cure.” So that with only these two things, as he sometimes said, the knowledge of the disease and the knowledge of the cure, he went forth to preach the Gospel. Mr. Ouseley’s first sermon was preached in a church-yard, at a funeral, which was attended of course by another officiating clergyman, and from this time forth, he preached in the streets and church-yard, at fairs and markets, at wakes and funerals, wherever in fact he could find a congregation assembled, whether Protestant or Catholic.

One day, Mr. Ouseley, while on a missionary tour, rode up to a Catholic chapel, where a priest was celebrating mass; the large congregation were on their knees; Mr. Ouseley knelt with them, and rendered every Latin word which the priest spoke, into Irish; and when he wished any particular part of the service which was Scriptural impressed on the minds of the people, he would emphatically exclaim, “Listen to that.” The people became deeply affected, and the priest not knowing who he was, was thunderstruck. When the service was ended, Mr. Ouseley and the congregation rose on their feet, and before they retired from the house, he delivered a warm-hearted exhortation to them, to repent and forsake their sins, and believe in Christ. When he had finished his exhortation, the people cried out to the priest, “Father, who is that?” “I don’t know,” he replied; “he is not a man at all, he is an angel; no man could do what he has done.”

Ouseley mounted his horse, amid the prayers and blessings of the people, and rode off to seek another opportunity of doing good.

In this way he would go from town to town, and from county to county, preaching and exhorting wherever an opportunity offered; and this practice he followed for seven years, prior to his connection with the Irish Methodist Conference. But it was not only by public preaching and exhortation, that he sought to do good. On one occasion, he met a man who had, by orders of the priest, taken a pilgrimage of forty Irish miles, as a penance; “Where have you been?” said Mr. Ouseley: “At the reek,” was the reply. “What were you doing there, poor man?” “Looking for God.” “Where is God?” “Everywhere.” “Where would you go to look for the day-light when the sun rose this morning? Would you go forty miles to look for the day-light, when it was shining into your own cabin door?” “O the Lord help us, I would not, sir.” “Then would you go on your feet forty miles to look for God, when you could get him at your own door?” “O, then may the Lord pity us, gentleman. It’s true for you! It’s true for you!”

Some time after this, while riding along the road, he overtook a countryman, whom he addressed as follows: “My dear man, would you not like to be reconciled to God, have his peace in your heart, and stand clear before the great Judge, when he will come in the clouds of heaven to judge the world?” The man replied: “O glory be to his holy and blessed name!

Sir, I have his peace in my heart, and the Lord be praised that I ever saw your face!” “You have! What do you know about this peace? When did you see me?” “Don’t you remember the day when you were at the burying, when the priest was saying mass?” “I do very well, what about that day?” “O, gentleman, you told us then how to get that peace; and I went, blessed be his holy name, to Jesus Christ my Savior, and got it in my heart; and have it ever since.” Thus Mr. Ouseley began to see the fruit of his labor among the ignorant and debased Catholic population of his own country, for whom his soul, like that of Jeremiah, was “in affliction,” and who like the same prophet, would frequently exclaim, “O, that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.”

Previously to Mr. Ouseley’s conversion, the Lord had raised up in different parts of Ireland, a number of eminent Methodist missionaries. Among these, may be named Rev. Thomas Walsh, a young man who was so thoroughly acquainted with the original Scriptures, that if he was questioned concerning any Hebrew word in the Old, or Greek word in the New Testament, he would tell how often the word occurred in the Bible, where it might be found, and what it meant. Mr. Wesley pronounced him the greatest master of biblical knowledge that he ever saw, or ever expected to see again. Mr. Walsh was himself the fruit of street preaching, and he, during his short, but useful life, spent much time in preaching to the Irish peasantry in their native tongue, and thousands of these, through his instrumentality, were converted to God.

Another of those eminent missionaries, was the Rev Charles Graham, a native of the county of Sligo. Mr. Graham had been educated in the Church of England, but feeling a consciousness of inward depravity, he attempted to find through the instrumentality of the “Church,” that peace which his soul panted after. Being disappointed here, he went to a Catholic mass meeting, where there happened to be a funeral service at the time. He learned that the person who was about to be buried had been a poor man, had lost all his cattle by disease, and that through the persuasion of his neighbors, the priest had taken up a collection of five pounds, to assist him in his distress; but asking the priest for the collection next day, the latter said to him, “I made no collection for you; but for myself.” The poor man, enraged at such monstrous injustice, swore solemnly that he never would bow his knee before the priest again. This poor man soon after died, and when dying., the hard-hearted priest refused to administer to him the last rites of his religion. He was, however, prevailed upon to attend to the funeral, at which time Mr. Graham was present. The address of the priest on this occasion, was, “This man’s soul is in hell, for he did not pay the rent of his soul for the last three years; and you will all be damned likewise, if you do not pay the rent of your souls regularly.” These facts, and this address, convinced Mr. Graham that he must seek for light somewhere else, than in the Roman Church. Shortly after, he providentially became acquainted with the preaching and doctrine of the Methodists, and through their instructions, was soon led to the fountain of salvation.

Mr. Graham’s first sermon was preached in the streets of the village of Milltown, where he was an entire stranger. Not knowing where to find a lodging for the night, he inquired of a lad if he knew any one in that town who had the Bible, and read it yes,” said the lad, “the clerk of the Church.”

Mr. Graham rode up to the door, and told him he had come to find lodging with one who read the Bible. The man was confounded. I read the Bible, sir! no indeed, 1 never read it, except what I read at Church, on Sunday.”

He, however, invited Mr. Graham to stay with him, and through the advice of the good missionary, he resolved hence forth to read the Bible, and subsequently became a valuable member of the Methodist Society which was formed in that place. Through the instrumentality of Mr. Graham, many persons of note and respectability were converted to the pure doctrines of the Gospel, from popery and error.

Another missionary of great usefulness, but of entirely different mold from Walsh, Graham, or Ouseley, was Bartholomew Campbell, a simple and uncultivated child of nature, who added to his natural simplicity a degree of strangeness and uncouthness, at once amusing and ludicrous. Campbell had been a Roman Catholic, but becoming burdened on account of sin, and not knowing what to do, he went to the priest, who enjoined penance and pronounced absolution, but still he found no peace to his mind. His mental distress increasing, he went to other priests, but still “hell lay open before him.” At length he went a pilgrimage of forty miles, to St. Patrick’s Purgatory, at Lough Derg, where he supposed all sin might be remitted, and having gone through with all the prescribed penances, paid all the necessary fees, received absolution from the resident priest, he fondly hoped that peace of mind would be secured; but alas, all these things were found to be unavailing. He returned to the priest with disappointment, and told him of the continued anguish of his spirit. “Did not I give you absolution?” said the priest. You did, father.” “And do you deny the authority of the Church?” “By no means, but my soul is in misery; what shall I do?” “Do! why go to bed and sleep.” “Sleep! no, father, perhaps I might awake in hell!” The priest exasperated at his stubbornness, as he supposed, threatened to horsewhip him; and poor Campbell went to a retired spot, and despairing to find mercy anywhere else, he with groans and tears, called aloud for Christ to have mercy on him, and He who said, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden,” gave the poor pilgrim “rest,” and his soul was filled with joy unspeakable. He at once returned to the priest, and told what great things the Lord had done for his soul. “O, father,” said he, “I am happy, I have found the cure. The ghostly “father,” thinking him mad, again threatened him with the horsewhip.

Campbell ran to a number of his fellow-pilgrims, exhorting them to turn from these vanities, and come directly to Christ, who would give them the cure and the jewel. After his return home, he became extremely anxious for the salvation of his wife, and believing that there was truly some virtue in a pilgrimage to Lough Derg, he insisted on her going there. His horse was attached to the cart, and a bed placed upon the latter; and on the bed, Campbell, his wife, and two children took their seats, and started for the Lough. But Mrs. Campbell did not there find the cure and the jewel, found by her husband, for the reason that she had not as yet felt her need of them.

Shortly after, Campbell related to a priest in the neighborhood, what he had experienced at the Lough. The priest was affected even to tears, but charged Campbell not to say a word to the people on the subject. “Father,” said he in reply, “they will all go to hell; and you will go thither with them, if you hide the cure from them.” The priest, however, reiterated his admonitions. Soon after, the priest was celebrating mass in an old burial ground, and when he had concluded, Campbell stepped up to him and said, “Father, you are to christen a bairn in the village, go, and leave the people to me. The dead souls, you see, are standing over the dead bodies; and I hope the Lord will awaken the uppermost.” “Take care,” said the priest, “what you do; make no disturbance, I charge you.” After the priest left, Campbell began to exhort the people, and with so much effect, that the ignorant multitude wept and fell on their knees, crying for mercy so loudly, that the noise was heard in the village. The priest hearing it, came running back. “You rascal,” said the latter, to Campbell, “do you oppose the Church?” “No, father, I have found the Church.” “You villain, begone,” said the now infuriated shepherd, at the same time striking Campbell over the head with a horse-whip. Poor Campbell had yet a portion of the “old Adam” in him, and scarcely knowing what he did, gave the priest a push, who falling over a grave, brought his feet higher than his head. So sudden was the transition from loud lamentation on account of sin, to anger and resentment at seeing God’s holy “praste” sticking his heels up in the air, that a general Irish melee was the result, and Campbell was obliged to fly for his life. This unfortunate affair brought poor Campbell into great darkness, in which he remained until he met with some Methodists, who understood his case, and led him back to the fountain for the removal of guilt. He soon after regained his peace of mind, and became a useful member and missionary among the Methodists in Ireland.

Mr. Campbell subsequently became a great admirer of Dr. Coke, and whenever it was announced that the latter was about to pay a visit to the country, Campbell would mount his old white horse and ride off to meet the doctor, and accompany him to the various places of worship whither he was going. His appearance on such occasions, was sufficiently ludicrous to create a smile in the countenance of the most taciturn and serious observers, especially when viewed in contrast with the more grave and respectable appearance of the doctor, who, knowing the man, was not disposed to find fault with his uncouth, yet well-meant attentions.

We have thus far allowed ourselves to digress from the chief subject of the chapter, for the purpose of showing the instruments which God was employing to bring many of the Irish to a knowledge of the faith.

About the time in which Mr. Ouseley joined the Methodist Conference, a deep and extensive rebellion took place in Ireland, known as the “Irish Rebellion.” It has been supposed by many, that the only object which the rebels had in view, was the deliverance of Ireland from the unjust rule of the British government. The history of the proceedings of the rebels will, no doubt, convince the impartial reader that this was by no means the only object, if indeed it was the chief object. The only rational ground of belief is, that the rebellion was designed to exterminate the hated name of Protestant from the island; and the subsequent cruelties practiced upon the unoffending Protestants, by the bigoted and blood-thirsty papists, all prove that their object was popery more than liberty — an alliance with the pope more than liberation from England. The history of that period is one of bloodshed, and the most diabolical cruelties inflicted upon unoffending men, women, and even children, that the historian of any nation has ever been called upon to record. It is true, there were a few Protestants at first leagued with the papists in their efforts to throw off their allegiance to the crown of Great Britain, but these were the dupes of the paid agents of popery, and as soon as they discovered the real intentions of the papists, and especially when they saw their fellow-protestants by thousands, murdered in cold blood before their eyes, they could no longer remain the dupes of designing men, but at once forsook the ranks of the rebels, and extinguished the flame of rebellion in the northern portion of the island.

In the year 1799, Mr. Ouseley’s name first appeared on the minutes of the Conference. This, it will be perceived, was at a time when that ill-fated country had just passed through the scorching ordeal alluded to in the preceding paragraph — a time when the religious and political elements were still in commotion. The field of labor assigned to Mr. Ouseley and his associate missionaries, Rev. Messrs. McQuigg and Graham, was not limited by any territorial bounds except the rolling sea around the island.

They were emphatically missionaries at large, but Irish missionaries, appointed under the auspices of the adventurous Coke, to labor for the good, not of a single parish or circuit, but for the good of Ireland.

The success of these missionaries during the first year of their labors under the authority of the Conference was such, that the next Conference added to the number, by the appointment of Mr. Bell. Messrs. McQuigg and Bell traveled through the provinces of Connaught and Leinster, while the other two traveled and preached more at large. Their favorite places for preaching, were the streets and markets; and the mighty power of God accompanied their word with such unction, that young and old frequently fell prostrate in the most public places of resort. Among the subjects of revival under their instrumentality, were two young men who had met to fight a duel, but were prevented by means of a wall falling on one of the spectators, which crushed him to death. A short time after, both these young men were converted, and walked for years together in the ways of religion and virtue. Nor was the success of the missionaries confined to the conversion of nominal Protestants, but hundreds, yea, thousands of the Catholic population were converted, not only to protestantism, but to Christianity — being born from above. But we are not to suppose that Satan could see his kingdom thus falling, without making a strong effort through his agents to stop the progress of the work by persecution and other means of like character. Mobs were resorted to, by persons of the baser sort, as a laudable way of stopping the mouths of God’s messengers.

Stones, dirt, etc., were at times freely discharged at them, but “none of those things moved them;” they still went on their way rejoicing.

At the Conference of 1802, Mr. Ouseley was again appointed in connection with Mr. Graham, to the Irish mission. Their field of labor was the provinces of Leinster, Munster, and Ulster, embracing the districts where the rebellion had raged most fiercely a year or two previously. Even here, their word was attended with power, and many of the rebels were the subjects of converting grace. Many are the pleasing incidents related in connection with their labors in this part of the work, but our limits will not allow us to transcribe them. At the Conferences of 1803 and 1804, they were, for the sixth time, appointed to labor together, their field of labor gradually becoming smaller each year, as laborers increased in numbers; and it is worthy of note, that in Ireland, the only influential opposers to the Methodists were the Roman priests, who saw their crafts were in danger, while the clergy and dignitaries of the Episcopal Church were generally favorable to the labors of the missionaries, and while civil officers of high repute, afforded them all the protection in their power. How different from the conduct generally of like classes in England. In 1805, Mr. Ouseley was appointed to labor with Rev. Wm. Hamilton, as his colleague. The former while preaching one Sabbath day in the streets of Carlow, where be found hundreds of country laborers who were in town looking for employment, with their reaping hooks or sickles over their shoulders, was rushed upon by a number of these persons who were evidently determined to destroy him; and had it not been for a gentleman who opened his door and dragged Mr. Ouseley into his house, they no doubt would have succeeded in their purpose.

During the year following the Conference of 1806, Mr. Ouseley appears to have labored mostly in the district of country, round and about Dublin. On one occasion he visited the town of Drogheda, which has always been noted for the swarm of beggars, who daily infest its streets. Mr. Ouseley, desirous of doing this neglected class some good, if possible, gave notice that he would preach to them on the morning of his departure from the town. In obedience to the call, a vast multitude of beggars collected together, who stood next [to] the preacher, besides hundreds of others drawn together by the novelty of the occasion. Mr. Ouseley took for his text the history of the rich man and Lazarus, and not only did the beggars weep, but those who came as spectators merely, were greatly affected. Mr. Ouseley retired, bearing with him the blessings of the poor creatures, for whose special benefit he had labored.

At the next Conference, Mr. Ouseley directed his attention to the region round about his own native province. In this region of country, he was very successful in his labors. He not only knew how to give “the trumpet a certain sound” when preaching, but he always had a seasonable word of advice for every person, whether high or low, rich or poor. Protestant or Catholic. Coming up one day in summer to where some men were cutting peat, he inquired, “What are you doing, boys?” “We are cutting turf,” was the reply. “Sure you don’t require them this fine weather?” “No, sir, we don’t want them now; but we will want them in the cold days of winter out here, and in the long nights.” “And, ye fools, won’t it be time enough to cut them when ye want them? Let winter provide for itself.” “O, muisha, sir, it will be too late then.” Mr. Ouseley’s moral may be inferred from the above.

While Mr. O. was in Dublin on one occasion, he had a call from a gentleman of note, to visit a certain noble lord residing there. The gentleman was a pious man, and had a great anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his noble friend. He had made several attempts to prevail on clergymen of the establishment to speak with his friend on the subject of salvation, and although he once obtained a promise to that effect from one of the clergy, yet all who had been spoken to, were evidently afraid of his lordship. At last he thought of Mr. Ouseley being in town; “I’ll tell you what,” said he to himself “I’ll go to Gideon; he’s in town; he’ll go with me.” He accordingly went with his carriage after Mr. Ouseley, who willingly consented to go with him to the mansion of his lordship. After the usual compliments, Mr. Ouseley in the most plain, yet respectful manner, urged upon his lordship’s attention the importance of being prepared for eternity. “Mr. Ouseley,” replied his lordship, “public business must be attended to, and we have no time for these things.” Mr. O. replied, “But, my lord, we must have time to die, and we should be prepared for that inevitable event.” “And what am I to do, Mr. Ouseley?” “There is the New Testament, it contains the will of the Lord Jesus Christ, and tells you what you are to do, my lord.” “But, Mr. Ouseley, there are many things in that book which I can understand, and that I admire. I must confess, however, there are other things I can not agree with.” “Ah! my lord, that will never do. What if your lordship had a case submitted to you by an individual, for an opinion; and after your opinion had been drawn up with the utmost care, and legal accuracy, he would say, ‘Why, my lord, there is part of this I like pretty well, but with other parts I cannot agree,’ what would you say, my lord?” “Ah! I perceive your meaning: we must receive the whole as a revelation from God.” “Exactly so, my lord. Take up that book; believe what it says; and do what it commands, and you will, my lord, be prepared by His mercy, for the hour of death, and for that day, when the great Judge shall appear.” The nobleman expressed his gratitude to Mr. Ouseley for his kindness and frankness, and invited him and his friend to dinner, which invitation they accepted, but during the repast, Mr. O. would in the most faithful manner, call his lordship’s attention to the “one thing needful,” and that, too, in a way in which he was not accustomed to listen to gospel truth.

Great trouble and agitation prevailed during the years 1806-7, throughout the province where Mr. Ouseley was at that period laboring. A body of men, called “Threshers,” infested the country, who organized themselves into a band of freebooters, for the ostensible purpose of putting an end to the tithing system, and to reduce the dues or fees of the Romish priests.

They committed many ravages upon the property of the peaceable inhabitants of the country, crying vengeance on the priests and ministers, so that those who had heretofore gladly received the missionaries, and especially Mr. Ouseley, were now afraid to open their houses for their reception. Mr. O. however, was nothing daunted, but urged his way along from place to place, and wherever he met a company of the Threshers, he preached plainly to them, and in return they not only respected him, but even threatened vengeance against any Roman priest who would molest him.

In one place, where ten or twelve Roman Catholics had been converted, and had joined the Methodist Society, the priest, who was a great drunkard, came among them and greatly terrified the people who came to hear Mr. O. by threatening to curse them, and make the very hair fall off from their head, and when dying would not give them the seal of Christ (the ointment of extreme unction), and then, said he, “what will you do?”

Mr. Ouseley preached them a sermon on false prophets, and one cried out in Irish, “O, the priest — the priest, why is he hindering us from all this comfort and sweetness?” The next morning, Mr. O. preached again in the same place to a large congregation, where a number of conversions took place. First a Romish woman cried for mercy, and soon was praising God aloud; then a Protestant young woman was converted; then a Romanist; then a Protestant again, until half a dozen or more in the course of a few minutes were converted, and praised God from a full heart. “O,” said one in Irish, “God is dealing finely, and fairly, for he is giving us one about of each sort.” “O,” said some of the converted Romanists, “the priest may talk, and that is all he’ll have for it.”

In 1808, Mr. Ouseley and Mr. Hamilton visited the county of Clare. The latter, in describing some of the scenes through which they passed, remarks, “Such a year of persecution I never had. Cruel mockings are nothing, and showers of stones and dirt, are but play; but bloodshed and battery are no joke. Last Christmas we were waylaid, and robbed of our books. Mr. Ouseley was hurt, and lost his hat in the affray, and he had to ride seven miles without one. I thought we should never leave the spot. It happened near Eyre-court on the Shannon. We had preached there that day, and had a battle with the priest and his people. The priest beat my horse greatly, and the people dragged him down on the street, and I on his back, but a soldier got me into the barrack-yard. Ouseley was hurt there too. The soldiers then got to arms, loaded their pieces, fixed their bayonets, marched out before us, and formed a square about us both in the street, until we preached to the market people. They then put us safe out of town; but never thought that our persecutors had got out before us, and lay concealed until we came up, and then surrounded us with horrid shoutings, as if Scullabogue barn had been on fire. At another time a big priest and I were in holds with each other, as he was going to pull Mr. Ouseley down. I could easily have injured him, for he was very drunk.”

During the next year, Mr. O. preached on the Galway and Clare mission, with Rev. Wm. Rutledge for a colleague. The following incident is related in reference to a village frequently visited by Mr. Ouseley. A class had been formed, but a gang of desperadoes were determined to break up the meetings. One evening they resolved to attend a class-meeting, and to effect their purpose they selected their leader to enter the room before meeting commenced, so that at the proper time, he might open the door for the rest of the gang. The members, knowing the character of the intruder, suspected mischief, but said nothing to him. At length the meeting opened by singing. The intruder said to himself, “This is very purty; I’ll not disturb them.” Prayer was offered: “I’ll let them alone till they have done their prayers.” They began to speak; “I’d like to hear what they have to say,” said Pat. The leader of the class went all round, and while they were speaking, God’s Spirit began to operate on the heart of the wicked man. At length the class-leader spoke to him, and said: “My good man, have you any knowledge of the things of which we have been speaking? Did you ever feel yourself a sinner before God, and that you deserved forever to be excluded from his presence?” The poor man began to weep, and cried out in the bitterness of his soul: “Lord have mercy upon me! What shall I do? I am a wicked sinner!” The state of poor Pat’s mind was unexpected to the members of the little class. Prayer, fervent and effectual, was immediately offered in his behalf, and he soon became a subject of the converting grace of God, and afterward was found a zealous advocate of the “truth as it is in Jesus.” While the class was praying for the conversion of the weeping penitent, his comrades without were waiting with the utmost impatience for the opening of the door; and not knowing what was going on within in reference to their companion, they kept walking back and forth, frequently saying: “The devil’s among the Swaddlers.”

In such a manner was God often pleased to manifest his power in the subjugation of the depraved heart to his will and authority; thus causing “the wrath of man to praise him,” while “the remainder of wrath” he was pleased to restrain.”

At the Conference of 1810, Mr. Ouseley was reappointed to the Galway and Clare mission, having two young men appointed as his helpers or assistants in the work. One of these describes a scene of which he was a witness, which serves to show the ignorance and superstition of the Irish papists, for whose special benefit these missions had been instituted. While passing a place of religious resort, called Kilmacduagh, he saw men and women in the most indecent manner, walking on their bare knees over rough gravel and stones, the blood streaming from their lacerated limbs; while gazing on the scene with horror and pity, he was approached by the spiritual superintendent or guide, who offered to escort him over the place.

After being shown all the curiosities, the missionary inquired why the people were exposing and cutting themselves in that dreadful manner. “O, for penance; for the benefit of their souls,” replied the guide. “What is the cause of so much of that tree yonder, being cut away?” “I’ll tell you: the saint of this place, Macduagh, traveled round the world on his knees till he came to a place below there; and there a girdle which he had round him, fell off; there was a tree standing there, which received such virtue, that a piece of it would preserve from sickness and accident, and if thrown into a house on fire, would put it out.” “And where is that tree now?” “O, it’s all cut away.” “Did it then transfer its efficacy to the one which they are now cutting away?” “When the first was all gone, why, they began at the other.

Do, sir, take a piece of it with you; it will keep you from all harm; nothing can ever happen to you while you have it about you; nor can any house be burned where it is.” “Thank you, I shall not mind it now. You seem so very well acquainted with these performances, I suppose you have frequently engaged in them yourself; have you?” “Not as often as I ought, for myself; but I have often to perform penance for other people.” “How is that?”

Why, when any of them are sick, or their children sick, they make a vow to the saint, that if they recover, they will go through so many rounds here; then, when they don’t like to go through them themselves, they get me to perform their vows for them.” “Do they not pay you, for thus performing their vows for them?” “O yes; if they didn’t, there would be no virtue in the thing at all.” During this dialogue, the guide uttered several oaths and curses, and on the missionary expressing his want of confidence in such a wretched system of religious penance, “Ah! you are not Irish,” said the guide. “Indeed I am,” said the missionary; “I have never been in England.” “If you are not English, you belong to them, so you do,” retorted the guide.

Mr. Ouseley continued his indefatigable labor for the benefit of his benighted and degraded countrymen, penetrating the most remote and lonely districts of country, going frequently without food and shelter; and exposing himself to the reproach of the ignorant and degraded Catholics, that he might win them to Christ;” and such was his earnestness and zeal, that he never was satisfied, unless during every meeting, and under every sermon, souls were converted to God. Nor did he neglect his studies, amidst his multifarious travels and missionary duties. While riding on horseback, he generally had his Greek testament in his hand, or a Latin, English, or Irish book, from which he would store his mind with an increase of useful knowledge, while going from place to place. Wherever he stopped also, if only for a moment, he had words of instruction and counsel for the unconverted. On one occasion, he stopped at a stream to water his horse and seeing a young lady standing in the door of a neighboring house, he went toward her, took her by the hand, spoke to her about her soul, and prayed that the blessing of God might rest upon her.

About two years afterward, being invited to preach in that neighborhood, he was kindly asked by a young man, to go home with him to his house.

Mr. Ouseley did so; the lady of the house received him in the most affectionate manner, and then related to him that she was the same person whom he had addressed as above stated; that the few words of counsel and instruction then given, led her to Christ; that she was now married to the young man who had invited him home, and that her husband was a classleader.

In 1811, Mr. Ouseley was again appointed to the Galway and Clare mission, and his labors and those of his colleagues, having been greatly blessed, it became necessary to erect a number of chapels for the accommodation of the societies formed by them. All classes were solicited to aid in the erection of these chapels, and not only the Protestant gentry and clergy contributed freely for the purpose, but strange as it may seem, many of the Roman Catholic priests and gentlemen, greatly aided in the work by donations and recommendations to their people to assist. On one occasion, one of Mr. Ouseley’s colleagues — Mr. O’Reilly — applied to the Roman parish priest, of Nenagh, for a subscription for the Nenagh Methodist Chapel. Upon being informed of the object of the visit, the kindhearted priest said, “Indeed, asthore, I will give you a guinea on account of your name.” “I could give you the money now, but I want to see you again,” continued he. Mr. O’Reilly called again, and the guinea was immediately paid, the priest, at the same time, desiring him to lend him some Methodist books, for, said he, I want to form a judgment for myself of your religion. One of this priest’s parishioners, a lady of great respectability, had been awakened under Methodist preaching, which fact gave great offense to the priest’s coadjutor. The latter came to the priest, and said, “There now — what will you do? your whole parish are going after the Swaddlers. There is Mrs. K_____, the most respectable woman in your flock, gone too.” “And what would you have me to do?” said the priest. “Denounce her from the altar,” was the reply. “Muisha, then, I’ll not denounce her, or any one else; let the decent woman go where she likes.”

About this time, a Father Thayer, a Roman priest from America, arrogantly challenged the whole Protestant literati to answer his arguments in favor of Romanism. Mr. Ouseley took up the gauntlet, and in the most masterly manner, drove his antagonist from the ground, which so mortified the American champion of popery, that giving way to his disappointment and chagrin, he shortly after died in Limerick, a victim to his own folly, in arousing the most able man in Ireland, to a defense of Protestantism. This controversy gave rise to Mr. Ouseley’s great work, entitled “Old Christianity, against Papal Novelties,” a work which does honor to the land of his birth.

As an instance of his controversial powers, we will relate the following incident. Being in company one evening with a Romish priest, named Glin, the latter abruptly attacked Mr. O. on doctrinal subjects. Mr. Ouseley at once raised objections to the popish doctrines of extreme unction, transubstantiation, etc. In relation to the former, the priest inquired, “O, my dear sir, was it not taught by St. James as having been instituted by Jesus Christ?” Mr. O. replied, “No, sir; you are aware that in order to its being a sacrament, it should have been instituted by Christ; and so much was the Council of Trent at a loss, that three hundred bishops, with the pope at their head, could not find a single word of our Lord to sanction its institution. Lest you might suppose me arguing unfairly, I’ll quote the words of the Trent Council for you.” He then quoted verbatim the words of the Council, and proved thereby, that extreme unction is not a sacrament of Jesus Christ. He next spoke on the subject of half-communion and the real presence, and so confounded the poor priest, who was indeed a man of considerable argumentative powers, that the latter exclaimed, “O, my dear sir, if you were to see all the books that I saw, when I was at college in France, on that one subject” — the real presence — “you would be afraid to speak a word upon it all the days of your life.” Mr. O. rejoined, “My dear sir, there are some things a child may know as well as an archbishop; for instance, how many panes of glass there are in that window.” “Poh!” said the priest, “that’s a physical fact; any one can tell that.” “Is it not equally a physical fact, that John the Baptist was not the son of the Virgin Mary?” “Very true indeed, sir,” replied the priest. “Why is he not her son?” inquired Mr. O. “Because John the Baptist was never born of the Virgin Mary,” said the priest. “Could any man that had never been born of her, ever become her son?” “Certainly not,” replied the priest. “Could any thing that never was born of her, ever become her son?” “Indeed, I think not,” said the unsuspecting priest. “I have you now, my good fellow,” exclaimed Mr. Ouseley; “can the corn which grew last year, ground by the miller, baked by the baker, and consecrated by the priest, by any power of God or man, ever become the son of the Virgin Mary?” “O,” said Father Glin, “all things are possible to God.” “No,” retorted Mr. O , “all things are not possible to God, for it is impossible for God to lie, or work a selfcontradiction, which would be necessarily involved in the doctrine of your Church; and how can any rational being believe, that the accidents to which the host may be liable, can happen to the Son of God? It can be carried away by the wind, and totally disappear; be devoured by an animal, a mouse or a cat; a spider can be drowned in the cup; it can be frozen, fall on the ground, be vomited by the priest, piously swallowed up again, licked up with the tongue; and the wine can, if poisoned, be poured on linen or tow, dried, then be burned, and the ashes buried in holy ground. Now, sir, permit me to ask, can you believe the doctrine of your own Church? Can any man in his senses believe that any of the above occurrences take place in regard to the true Christ?” The priest was confounded, and said, True enough, sir; a great many people think that all things are possible to God, but he could not make this stick in my hand without two ends to it, nor make two hills without a valley between them.” Thus he acknowledged himself vanquished, and wisely gave up the contest. On a subsequent visit to the gentleman’s house where the above conversation took place, the priest said: “These Methodist preachers are queer fellows; I declare, I did not think they were such men.” “But what do you think of your own argument, Father Glin?” said one to him. “If it were not for the price of bread,” he replied, “I would never celebrate mass again as long as I live.”

Mr. Ouseley, however, had worse foes to contend with than the arguments of Romish priests. A Romish Irish mob is the most formidable foe, and the most ferocious enemy that any person can meet, by night or by day. A tribe of North American Indians are not half so much to be dreaded by the unfortunate being who comes in contact with them, as the Irish mob, especially where whiskey is plenty, and shillelahs are numerous. On the next day but one after the above conversation took place, as Mr. O. was passing through Loughrea, he suddenly stopped his horse, and said to his companion, “I feel as if the atmosphere was crowded with devils; we’ll be attacked in town;” and sure enough, scarcely had they made their appearance in the main street, than the crowd who were in attendance at the market, as soon as they discovered the “swaddlers,” set up a most fiendish yell, as though all hell had broken loose, and the inhabitants of the pit of darkness had appeared, to re-act on earth the horrid tragedies of the world of woe. Abuse and execrations of the most awful kind were heaped upon them, and all kinds of missiles were flung with the utmost fury at their heads. Mr. O., however, was protected by the soldiery of the place, and after running through the most imminent danger, he providentially with his companion, Mr. O’Reilly, escaped unhurt. But time would fail to relate all the providential escapes of Mr. Ouseley, from the wrath of an ignorant populace, who were generally instigated to their deeds of hostility by the presence and commands of their spiritual advisers.

At the Irish Conference of 1813, Dr. Coke presided for the last time. He was on the eve of departing for India. Mr. Ouseley volunteered his services to accompany the Doctor, and though the former pleaded with tears in his eyes, for liberty to go, and the latter urged the Conference to grant leave, yet in the opinion of his brethren, his services could not be spared from the Irish missions, and he was reluctantly compelled to remain at home. At this Conference, he was appointed to the counties of Antrim and Londonderry, where he labored for several years with great success. Not being required, however, by the Conference, to confine his labors to those counties, he visited different parts of the kingdom, meeting in some places with respectful treatment, and in others narrowly escaping with his life, from the violence of the popish mobs. In the course of his travels, while on this mission, he was the instrument of the conversion of a very devout Romanist, by the name of Rorke. This man, while under conviction, went to several priests, to inquire what he should do to be saved. One told him to “Go to Lough Derg;” another, “Go to Lady’s Island;” and another, “Receive the Lord’s body.” “Do you think,” said Rorke to the latter, “you can make the Lord’s body for me?” “I have that power, Philip; can you doubt it?” “Please your reverence,” said Rorke, “I have two little hens, but no cow; now if you can turn them into two milk cows for my children, to give us milk, I shall believe then that you have the power you say.” “Get agone, get agone,” said the priest, and left him to find consolation the best way he could.

In the farther relation given of the biography of Mr. Ouseley, it would be pleasant to relate his frequent conversations with Roman priests, or other champions of popery who fancied themselves competent to defend its absurdities; a few of these only, we can give. On one occasion, a young Romanist who had just completed his studies in Maynooth College, and who was in the habit of assailing Protestant gentlemen, manifested a great desire to meet Mr. Ouseley in controversy. An opportunity soon offered at the house of a Protestant, where there was a large company present. After dinner, the Romanist introduced his favorite theme, and soon the conversation turned on the subject of transubstantiation, the Romanist asserting that Jesus Christ converted the bread into his own body. “Did not our blessed Lord eat of that bread, and drink of that cup, after the consecration?” asked Mr. Ouseley. “Yes,” was the reply. “And do you think that he ate himself?” “I believe he did,” replied the young man. “Then,” retorted Mr. Ouseley, “his own head was in his own mouth, as were his feet and his whole body, and so a part is greater than the whole!

And yet his feet were on the ground!!” The company present laughed immoderately at the absurd idea, and the young collegian acknowledged himself vanquished.

On another occasion he fell in with a young woman who was a bigoted Romanist, although otherwise a very interesting and intelligent person. She said she would rather be damned than become a Protestant. Mr. Ouseley hearing of her sought her out, and said to her, “Biddy, would you not rather have one half-hour’s conversation with Jesus Christ, who is to judge you, than if all the clergy on earth — pope, priests, preachers, etc., were to talk to you till doomsday?” “Surely, I would,” she replied. “But had he so conversed with you, would you not be afraid of forgetting any part of it, and would you not on your knees beg of him to give it to you in writing?” “Certainly, I would.” “Now if he gave you that writing, would you not put it in your very bosom, and read if night and day, and prefer it to all the teachers on earth, nor part with it on any account whatever?” “All this is true, sir: I most certainly would not part with it.” “Then, Biddy, you have this very thing in this house, — the New Testament. For if Jesus Christ were now to come, having given the Gospel in infinite perfection (and the Protestant and Roman Catholic Testaments are in substance the same), he would in no wise alter the Gospel. Hence you have only to read and obey it, and all shall be well. But there is a practice in your religion which Christ never taught: that is private confession.” He then explained the Scripture in relation to the woman accused of wickedness, and showed that when brought to the Saviour he said, “Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more.” “You see, Biddy,” said Mr. O., “Christ did not confess her, nor lay penance on her. Now had he found an apostle confessing the woman, and laying penance on her contrary to his example, what would become of such an apostle, unless he promised never to do so again? Or, if he met you, my child, going to such confession, and should say to you, ‘Did I ever teach you the like: and are you going to tell the world I was wrong?’ What would you answer? surely you would say, ‘Lord, I will never go to confession again.’ “The result of this conversation was, that “Biddy” never went to confession again, but became a faithful and worthy member of the Methodist Society, notwithstanding the priest’s bitter opposition to her; and through her means, her parents were both subsequently converted and also united with the Methodists.

While traveling in the county of Wexford, he rode into a town on the Sabbath for the purpose of preaching, and as is customary in Ireland, after mass large numbers of the Catholic congregation were engaged near the Roman Chapel in playing ball, gambling, drinking, etc. Mr. Ouseley with holy indignation, went immediately to the priest, and said: “Are not you, sir, the pastor of Christ’s flock?” “Indeed, I am, sir,” replied the priest. “Then why do you not turn out the unruly ones, according to the command of Christ our Lord?” “Lord help me,” said the priest, “if I turn out these, I’ll have none at all.” “Better for you to have none at all, or have only three, and have such a church as Christ and his apostles founded, than have the whole countryside of such fellows.” “True for you, sir; but Lord have mercy on us, what shall we do for the bit of bread?” Mr. O. then referred to the impious lives of some of the popes, and showed the absurdity of considering them as the head of Christ’s true flock. “True enough for you,” said the priest, “there’s their lives on the table there.” After Mr. O. withdrew, the priest’s coadjutor came in and said: “So you have had that heresiarch Ouseley here.” The priest replied, “Get you gone, sir; Mr. Ouseley is a gentleman and a scholar, sir; what you are not. You dare not open your mouth, sir, if he were present.” It is worthy of record, that when this priest (who evidently loved Ouseley), was breathing his last he cried out: “O Mr. Ouseley! Mr. Ouseley!”

We have thus given a few specimens of Mr. Ouseley’s conversational powers, and of the good effects which seemed to follow his personal labors in this direction. We might fill the space allotted to this chapter with various other anecdotes and incidents as connected with his long and useful life.