The small society of Methodists in Nestleton, numbering some five-and-twenty members, owed its origin to the love and labours of Old Adam Olliver. Many long years before, when the quaint old hedger was foreman on old George Houston’s farm, Adam, with two or three fellow-servants, used to walk to Kesterton to the Sunday preaching. Through the ministry of a grand old Boanerges of the early age they had found peace through believing, and for some time used to attend a class-meeting held after the afternoon service for such outlying members as could not attend during the busy week days. One Sunday, after the quarterly tickets had been renewed by the superintendent minister, Adam plucked up courage to address him,-- “Ah wop you’ll excuse ma, sor,” said he, “bud we’re desp’rate fain te get ya’ te cum te Nestleton. Meeast o’ t’ fooaks is nowt bud a parcel o’ heeathens. There’s neea spot for ’em te gan teea bud t’ chotch, an’ t’ parson drauns it oot like a bummle bee; summut at neeabody can mak’ neeather heead nor tayl on, an’ t’ Gospel nivver gets preeach’d frae yah yeear end te d’ t’ other. “Well, but have you a place to preach in, Adam?” quoth the minister; “is there anybody who will take us in?” “Why, there’s d’ green,” said Adam, “neeabody’ll molest uz there, unless it be t’ oad gander, an’ ah wop yo’ weeant tohn tayl at him. An’ i’ mucky weather yoo can hae mah hoose. Ah’ve axed Judy, an’ sha’ sez ’at you can hev it an’ welcome. It isn’t mitch ov a spot, but it’s az good az a lahtle fishin’ booat, an’ oor Sayviour preeached upo’ that monny a tahme; ah reckon ’at best sarmon ’at ivver was preeached was up ov a hill-sahd, an’ the Lord gay another te nobbut yah woman fre’ t’ steean wall ov a well. It isn’t wheear yo’ stand, bud what yo’ say ’at ’ll wakken Nestleton up, and gi’d folks a teeaste o’ t’ Gospel trumpet. When will yo’ cum?” Adam Olliver gained the day, and services were held on Nestleton Green and in Adam’s cottage. Eventually the village was placed upon the plan, the local preachers were appointed on the Sunday evenings, Adam Olliver was made a leader of the class, and from that day Methodism had kept a foothold in Nestleton. Nay, more than that, for Adam’s cottage grew too small for the congregation, and the large kitchen of Gregory Houston was placed at their disposal. At the time of which we write, that good farmer and his family were all in church communion, and he, Adam Olliver, and Nathan Blyth, who was a popular and successful local preacher, were the props and pillars of the Nestleton Society.