“You are a brother parson, sir, I perceive, though I do not call your face to mind. Are you on your way to take some duty--maybe 'tis for Josh Hilliard; I heard that he had a touch of his old enemy. But now that I think on't 'twould not be like Josh to provide a substitute.” “I have come hither without having a church to preach in, sir; my name is Wesley, John Wesley.” “What, the head of the men we christened Methodists at Oxford?” “The same, sir. I believe that the name hath acquired a very honourable significance since those days. I hope that we are all good churchmen, at any rate.” “I don't doubt it, Mr. Wesley; but you will not preach in my church, sir, of that you may rest assured.” “You are frank, sir; but pray remember that I have not yet asked your permission to do so.” The other laughed, and spoke a word or two to his horse, who was becoming impatient and was only controlled with difficulty. “A fair retort, Mr. Wesley--a fair retort, sir,” he said. “I like your spirit; and by my word, I have a sort of covert admiration for you. I hear that none can resist your preaching--not even a Bishop. You have my hearty sympathy and good will, sir, but I will not go to hear you preach. The truth is that you are too persuasive, Mr. Wesley, and I cannot afford to be persuaded to follow your example. I find the Church a very snug nest for a younger son with simple country tastes and a rare knowledge of whist; I am a practical man, sir, and my advice upon occasion has healed many a feud between neighbours. I know a good horse and I ride straight to hounds. In the cockpit my umpiring is as good law as the Attorney General could construe for a fee of a thousand guineas. Ask anyone in this county what is his opinion of Parson Rodney and you will hear the truth as I have told it to you. I wish you luck, Mr. Wesley, but I will not countenance your preaching in my church; nor will I hear you, lest I should be led by you to reform my ways, as I suppose you would say; I am a younger son, and a younger son cannot afford to have doubts on the existing state of things, when the living that he inherits is of the net value of eight hundred pounds per annum. So fare you well, sir, and I beg of you not to make my flock too discontented with my ten-minute sermons. They should not be so, seeing that my sermons are not mine; but for the most part Doctor Tillotson's--an excellent divine, sir--sound--sound and not above the heads of our gaffers. Fare thee well, Nelly; break as few hearts as thy vanity can do with.” And Parson Rodney, smiling gallantly, and waving his whip gracefully, whistled to his dogs, and put his roan to the trot for which he was eager. “An excellent type,” murmured Wesley. “Alas! but too good a type. Plain, honest, a gentleman; but no zeal, no sense of his responsibility for the welfare of the souls entrusted to his keeping.” He stood for some time watching the man on the thoroughbred. Then he turned to Nelly Polwhele, saying: