“Lawk-a-massy! Maister Philip! Ah didn’t knoa ’at yo’ meant me. Ah nivver was called ‘Mr. Olliver’ i’ all mi’ life afoore, an’ me an’ it dizn’t seeam te agree. It’s like blo’in’ t’ cooachman’s ’orn iv a wheelbarro’, or puttin’ a gilt knocker on a barn deear. Ah’ve been ax’d te say a few wods, bud ah isn’t mitch ov a speeaker, an’ yo’ needn’t be freeten’d ’at ah sall tak’ up mitch o’ yer tahme. Ah knoa ’at yo’ want te hear t’ greeat man ’at’s cum all t’ way frae York te help i’ this good cause. God bless ’im! an’ give him mooth, matter, an’ wisdom, an’ tak’ ’im seeafe yam ageean, nae warse i’ body an’ better i’ sowl. Maister Philip, ah’ve cum frae Kesterton mainly te see you i’ that chair. You’re t’ right man i’ t’ right spot. Ah sall nivver forget that ’appy day upo’ Nestleton Woad, when the Lord ‘listed yo’, as you say, an’ gav’ yo’ the boonty munny o’ pardonin’ peeace. Ah’s quite sartain ’at t’ greeat Captain ov oor salvaytion meeans yo’ te be, nut a private souldier, bud a general i’ t’ hosts o’ God’s elect; an’ ah pray ivvery day o’ my life ’at God ’ll bless yo’, an’ mak’ yo’ a blessin’: that yo’ may fight the good fight o’ fayth an’ lay hod ov etarnal life. Ah luv t’ mission cause, because it brings perishin’ sowls te Jesus, an’ tak’s t’ blood-stayned banner o’ t’ Cross inte heeathen lands. Ah prays for it all’us, an’ ah gives all t’ brass ah can spare, efter buyin’ breead an’ cheese for me an’ Judy, te the Lord’s cause beeath at worn an’ abroad. Ah’s glad te see sae monny labourin’ men here te-neet. Mah deear frens, you an’ me can’t gie mitch munny, but we can pray as hard as onybody; an’ it isn’t hoo mitch we gie, bud hoo mitch we luv, an’ hoo ’artily we deea wer best. Angels can deea nae mair then that, an’ God ’ll bless it. T’ poor wido’ ’at nobbut put two mites inte t’ box, did what was pleeasing te Jesus, an’ her munny fell thro’ t’ nick wiv a sweeter chink then t’ golden sovereigns o’ t’ rich fooaks meead, because she put ’er heart atween t’ bits o’ brass, an’ sae gay’ mair then ’em all. May the Lord bless uz, an’ cause His feeace te shine on uz, an may His way be knoan upo’ t’ ’arth an’ His seeavin’ health te all naytions.” Adam’s speech elicited a round of applause, and then the deputation had full swing. A collection succeeded, and Mr. Mitchell was able to announce that the financial results were more than five pounds ahead of last year’s. The “Doxology” was sung with much enthusiasm, and the village missionary meeting was brought to a close. It was a little meeting, it is true, but there are thousands of such meetings held in Methodism, and in the aggregate they wield an influence which reaches to the uttermost parts of the earth, carries saving health to thousands who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, and helps to overspread the world with the “glory of the Lord.”