“Bud,” said Adam Olliver, whose anxiety could not be restrained, “we aren’t inthroducin’ owt ’at’s new. We’ve been hoddin’ meetin’s i’ Nestleton for five-an’-thotty year, an’ naebody’s na worse for it, an’ monny on us, sor, is a good deal better for ’t. Parson knoas ’at we hae nae opposition tiv ’im, an’ some on us gans te t’ chotch i’ t’ mornin’s. Ah could tell yo’, sor, o’ monny a yan ’at’s been meeade ’appy there; o’ pooachers ’at’s sell’d their guns, an’ drunkards ’at’s tonn’d sober, an’ monny a scooare o’ precious sowls ez dee’d rejoicin’ i’ Jesus Christ, through t’ meetin’s ’at’s been hodden i’ mah lathle hoose an’ i’ t’ maister’s kitchin. As for t’ village bein’ peeaceful, there’s plenty te deea at Midden Harbour, roond t’ publichoose an’ uther spots. We want all t’ village te fear God an’ seeave their sowls. If yo’ pleease, sor, deean’t damp uz all at yance. Tak’ a bit o’ tahme te consither on ’t. While you’re thinkin’, we sall be prayin’, an’ ah wop you’ll excuse ma, sor, if ah say ’at if you’ll pray aboot it yo’rself, it’ll help yo’ te cum tiv a right detarmination.” Here Farmer Houston slyly pulled the old man’s coat, afraid that he should venture too far and do more harm than good. Mr. Clayton, however, was delighted with the clear, concise way in which the old man pleaded the cause of his Master. He knew that He who told His disciples that when they were brought before rulers and magistrates He would tell them what they ought to say, was speaking through the lips of the godly hedger, who knew so well how to talk with God. “Ah weean’t trubble yo’ no farther,” said the old man, in obedience to the farmer’s hint; “bud if you’ll tonn te t’ fifth chapther ov Acts, an’ t’ thotty-eight’ an’ thotty-nint’ vasses, you’ll me’bbe finnd a bit o’ good advice.” The squire smiled, partly in superior knowledge, and partly in amusement at the unsophisticated Doric of the speaker, but he could not ridicule such transparent honesty. “Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I can give you no encouragement to-night, but I’ll take time to weigh the matter, and will let you know my decision.” “Prayse the Lord for that,” said Adam Olliver, “an’ may God guide uz all!” Little did they think of the awful storm and tempest which should burst over Waverdale Hall and its aristocratic inmates before that final decision should be announced. The portly butler was summoned to conduct them to the door, and when the little party was fairly out into the park, they began to compare notes on the aspect of affairs. “I don’t think we shall succeed,” said Farmer Houston, who was never of a very sanguine temperament. “No,” said Mr. Clayton, “Adam’s pleading won upon his courtesy, but it will not change his mind.” “No,” said Nathan Blyth, with a sigh, “we may put it out of court. Nestleton’ll have to go without a Methodist chapel for this generation, depend on’t.”