"No, indeed, sir! He might have founded an order, and it would, doubtless, have been a rigorous one; but it would not have been one shut up behind walls. It would have been a preaching order, severely disciplined, perhaps, but burning with all the zeal of the Redemptionist Fathers on a mission." The squire patted the little hand, which was upon his knee, and proudly asked, "Now, then, parson, what does ta say to that?" "I say it would be a very good description of 'the people called Methodists' when they began their crusade in England." "It is always a good description of them when they have missionary work to do. We have had brave soldiers among the Fontaines, and wise statesmen, also; but braver than all, wiser than all, was my grandfather Fontaine, who went into the wilderness of Tennessee an apostle of Methodism, with the Bible in his heart and his life in his hand. If I was a man, I would do as Richard always does, lift my hat whenever his name is mentioned." "Such ministers are, indeed, spiritual heroes, Miss Fontaine; men, of whom the world is not worthy." "Ah, do not say that! It was worthy of Christ. It is worthy of them. They are not extinct. They are still preaching--on the savannas of the southwest--on all the border-lands of civilization--among the savages of the Pacific isles, and the barbarians of Asia and Africa; voices crying in the wilderness, 'God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son' for its salvation. A Methodist preacher is necessarily an evangelist. Did you ever happen to read, or to hear Wesley's 'charge' to his preachers?" "No, I never heard it, Miss Fontaine." "If ta knows it, Phyllis, dearie, let him hev it. I'se warrant it'll fit his office very well." "Yes, I know it; I have heard it many a time from my grandfather's lips. In his old age, when he was addressing young preachers, he never said any thing else to them. 'Observe,' charged Wesley, 'it is not your business to preach so many times, or to take care of this or that society, but to save as many souls as you can.'" "Now, then, that's enough. Phyllis, dearie, lift t' candle and both o' you come wi' me; I've got summat to say mysen happen." He had that happy look on his face which people wear who are conscious of having the power to give a pleasant surprise. He led them to a large room above those in the east wing which were specially his own. It was a handsome bedroom, but evidently one that was rarely used. "Look 'ee here, now;" and he lifted the candle toward a picture over the fire place. "Who do you mak' that out to be?" "John Wesley," said Phyllis. "For sure; it's John Wesley, and in this room he slept at intervals for thirty years. My great grandfather, Squire Gregory Hallam, was a Methodist--one o' t' first o' them--and so you see, Phyllis, my lass, you hev come varry naturally by your way o' thinking."