As the vast congregation streamed away from the chapel, many of the old members of it said they had heard many wonderful sermons in that chapel from great preachers, but nothing like that. Many said they had no idea that Thorsby had so much in him; and all admitted that at all events he had discovered a new and amazing talent in himself, and would, if he held on, be truly a burning and a shining light. The ascent of such a brilliant meteor into the religious horizon of Methodism produced immediately numerous calls to visit other towns—Sheffield, Manchester, Leeds, &c. &c.,—and everywhere the same enthusiasm was excited by Thorsby’s addresses. He might have gone from town to town on a triumphal round of religious service; much time he was, in a measure, obliged to devote to such engagements, and well was it for him that he had a man like Thomas Barnsdale to attend to his business affairs. For some months Thorsby continued to astonish and electrify the public by his impassioned discourses. Fair Manor expressed a quiet hope that it would continue. Woodburn Grange was in a condition of mind fit subject for metaphysical plumblines to explore, half astonished and half acquiescent in the strange phenomenon. Letty, with tears and smiles, when there, continued to say, “Anything, anything, so that Harry continues as steady and kind as now.” Betty Trapps alone expressed no enthusiasm, and avowed no faith in this grand metamorphosis. She had heard Mr. Thorsby, she said, at Hillmartin Chapel. It was very fine what he said, but then she knew that he awlis could talk finely, even when he made so many “skits” on the Methodists. For her part she looked on this as a judgment on him for his fleering at good people so often. She and Sukey Priddo had seen something that satisfied them. “What have you seen, Betty?” asked Mrs. Woodburn. Betty didn’t seem in a hurry to answer; but when urged by all the family she said, “Well, if you must know, we saw the shadder of th’ Owd Youth,”—a familiar name for the Devil in the midland counties,—“behind him in the pulpit as he were preaching. That was enough for us.” “Nonsense,” said Ann, “it was merely some particular placing of the lights that cast an odd shadow. How absurd, Betty, about the Old Youth.” “As you please, Miss,” said Betty; “I’ve my own notions; but I niver, in all my born days, expected to see Mr. Thorsby preaching in Hillmartin chapel, nor to hear Mr. Nockels the local preacher saying niver was such preaching. No, truly! William Penn’s ‘No Cross, no Crown,’ was not such stuff as they got every day at Hillmartin.” “‘No Cross, no Crown,’” said Ann. “What makes you think it was ‘No Cross, No Crown?’” “Sukey Priddo,” said Betty, “knows ‘No Cross, no Crown’ well enough. Mr. Heritage made her a present of it, and she’s read it through five times.” With Betty Trapps’s opinion of Thorsby’s spiritual appearances, we may close this chapter, and leave the reader to think of it a little.