When we had seen the church, and inspected the signature of Charlotte Brontë in the register of marriages, Harte declared that he could not leave without visiting the parsonage. I warned him that he was not likely to be admitted, as Mr. Wade was known to object to the intrusion of strangers into his house. Harte, however, maintained that as an American author, Mr. Wade would certainly not refuse him if he sought admittance, and persisted in visiting the parsonage. Remembering my controversy with Mr. Wade, I discreetly withdrew from the company, and retired to the Black Bull Inn, where I smoked a cigar in the chair in which Branwell Brontë had too often sat. After some time had elapsed, my friends--Harte, Shepard, and the young man, whom I will call M.---- returned. "Did you really get admittance?" I asked, and Harte replied in the affirmative. "Well," I said, "you may congratulate yourself, for it was a remarkable achievement." Harte did not seem to respond very willingly to this remark, so Shepard took up the tale, and told me what had really happened. "When we got to the door, Harte sent in his card to Mr. Wade, and enquired if he could see him. We were left standing on the doorstep until Mr. Wade made his appearance, Harte's card in his hand. The expression of his face was not encouraging. He asked what we wanted, and Harte said, 'You perhaps may know my name. I am an American author.' Mr. Wade looked at the card, and said, 'Yes, he had heard the name. What did Mr. Harte want?' Then Harte introduced me, as American Consul at Bradford, and explained that we were both most anxious to be allowed to see the interior of Charlotte Brontë's old home. Upon this Mr. Wade, in very plain language, declared that it was impossible, that he made it a rule not to admit strangers to his house, and could make no exception. Harte seemed very much annoyed, and I put in a word to explain who his visitor was, and what he had done in literature. But the old gentleman was quite obdurate, and we were about to turn away when young M. stepped forward, and said, 'Mr. Wade, my name is M. and I come from So-and-so.' 'What!' said Mr. Wade, his whole manner changing at once, 'are you related to my old friend, Mr. M., of the firm of M. & N.?' 'I am his son,' replied M. 'Come in, sir,' cried Mr. Wade, with effusion. 'I shall be delighted to see you in my house, and you may bring your friends with you.'" And this was the fashion in which Bret Harte saw Haworth Parsonage.