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REMINISCENCES

MARI JONES

Dr. and Mrs. Lloyd-Jones and their family spent many happy hours relaxing at Brynuchaf, Llanymawddwy, the home of John and Mari Jones. On the Sunday following his death, a programme was broadcast on Radio Wales and Radio Cymru, during which Mrs. Mari Jones shared the following reminiscences of the Doctor. WHEN he was preaching at Westminster Chapel hundreds would go and see him in his room at the back of the church, seeking light and guidance on their problems and difficulties. He would return home of a Sunday night with some thrilling stories to tell. Some of those who went to see him were on the point of committing suicide; one evening a man came who had decided to throw himself off Westminster Bridge. His whole life was full of remarkable incidents, did we but know the details.

He had a great love of horses. Here he is aged 6 at Llwyncadfor,

He really enjoyed being on a farm. He had spent a great deal of time on his grandfather's farm, Llwyncadfor, Newcastle Emlyn, and he was an expert judge of horses, like his uncles. He could see at a glance their fine points and their defects, and his eyes would sparkle as he summed up their qualities. I remember an occasion when he and Mrs. Jones were taking a walk up to the source of the river Dyfi. One length of the path traversed quite a steep ravine, and about halfway down this path he became paralysed with fear. He could neither go on nor retrace his steps. As far as I could gather, he came back by flattening himself against the slope, holding on to the turf and every clump of coarse grass. His respectable black suit (I never once saw him in a sports jacket) was in a sorry state on his return, and he laughed heartily as he related the incident. He was to preach that night at Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, and whilst holding on there above the ravine he was wondering who would go to preach in his place. But he got there safely, of course.

and the man in his 60's at Llanymawddwy on Caron.

His table-talk was always interesting. I remember him telling of a friend in Carlisle who had built an enormous shed to house the agricultural implements he had for sale. Once a year he would clear them all out, bring in benches from a chapel he had bought, and invite the Doctor to preach. The swallows would be darting to and fro overhead during the sermon-they could not be persuaded it was a special day! On one of his last visits there, I believe, the Doctor was reading the Scriptures at the start of the service when there was a warm splash on his hand. It only needed a wipe with a paper handkerchief, but a few inches nearer and it could have been on his face and nose-a real calamity! He was full of humour as he told the story.

And here is another story he told. I believe he was preaching in Newcastle, and a sort of civic welcome had been arranged, with a dinner before the service. At the dinner, cigarettes and a card of matches were laid beside each plate. 'Being a "Cardi"', he said, 'I put the matches in my waistcoat pocket.' Later on, as he gesticulated and leaned forward slightly while delivering his sermon and praising his Saviour, he noticed a faint wisp of smoke between himself and the congregation. He thought at first that there must be something wrong with the electricity, but a moment later he began to feel himself hot! His throat tablets had rubbed against the matches in his pocket, setting them alight, and there was even a small hole in his waistcoat. Snuffing them out, he preached on-and the headline in the papers the following day read 'Welsh preacher on fire!'

In his wife Bethan he had a truly wonderful helpmeet. She has been a great support to him, helping him to be great for his Lord. 'What would you like for supper?' I would ask. 'Martyn', she would say, 'what do you fancy?' 'But what about you?' 1 would ask. You see, what she wanted did not count. One day when I was staying with them in London, I remember her - I can see her now! - coming down two flights of stairs when Martyn was on his way out to preach, to embrace him and wish him well. Yes, there was real harmony in the home.

God was central to him, you know. On his deathbed he told his wife and daughter, 'Don't hinder me from going to glory'-that place he had extolled so much.