Part 12 (1/2)
Thoosan's upo' thoosan's. Mah wod, Natty! bud they must mak' t'
squire's heead wark te' read 'em. They a'most tonn me dizzy te leeak at 'em.”
Again the butler appeared, cutting short Old Adam's wonderment, and ushered them into the presence of the stern and stately squire, whose reception of them was courteous enough but cold. Farmer Houston, as the tenant of a farm which had been in the Houston family through many generations, was personally known to Squire Fuller, who accosted him by name.
”Good evening, Mr. Houston. Take a seat, but first introduce me to your friends.”
Mr. Clayton received a cold and distant bow; Nathan Blyth a scrutinising gaze, more piercing than pleasant; but that good man and true, bore him as a true man should.
”And this,” said Farmer Houston, ”is one of my labourers, who has been an old and trusted servant to myself and my father for more than fifty years. His name is Adam Olliver.”
The squire bowed in honest reverence to the time-worn veteran, who bore such a certificate of character, and asked them to what he was indebted for the honour of their visit.
Farmer Houston stated their case. He spoke of the lowly band of Methodists who lived in the village and wors.h.i.+pped G.o.d as their taste and conscience taught; of the services held in Adam's cottage, and then in his own kitchen; how even that was now too small for the congregation; how they desired to build a little chapel for the more decent and successful carrying out of their work, and how they had come to ask him to sell or lease to them a sc.r.a.p of land, on which to build their house of prayer. ”Mr. Clayton,” he said, ”will answer any questions as to our doctrines or proceedings, and we shall be deeply grateful, sir, if you can see your way to grant us our request.”
”I do not think there is any need to ask questions,” said Mr. Fuller, with an ominous shake of the head. ”You have the parish church, which is sufficiently large to hold all who choose to go. My friend the rector is a most estimable man, and I do not see that anything is to be gained by setting up an opposition establishment. I don't understand this newfangled religion you call Methodism, but I gather that it is a kind of fanatical parody on the National Church; that its adherents are remarkable for shouting and groaning, and for going to great excesses of mere emotional excitement. I am not particularly in love with the ideas that are taught in the parish church itself, but I certainly prefer them to yours, and shall as certainly refuse to be the means of introducing what is sure to be a source of sectarian jealousy, into our quiet and peaceful little village. It has done without such a thing from time immemorial, and shall not with my permission be exposed to what I cannot but regard as the introduction of a very pernicious element of mischief.”
”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 G.o.d 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 c.u.m 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 G.o.dly hedger, who knew so well how to talk with G.o.d.
”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' va.s.ses, you'll me'bbe finnd a bit o' good advice.”
The squire smiled, partly in superior knowledge, and partly in amus.e.m.e.nt 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 G.o.d 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.”
”Seea you think 'at squire's bigger then G.o.d, di yo'? Yan wad think, te hear yo' talk, that it was a matter for him an' uz te sattle. Is ther' onnything ower hard for the Lord? an' it's His business noo, an'
nut oors, an' ah for yan's gannin' te trust Him te t' end. Though it tarry, wayt for it. T' oad gentleman dizn't like it, ah can see, bud he'll hae te lump it, for ah's as sartan as ah's livin' 'at Nestleton chapel 'll be built afoore twelve munths is ower. He says he'll tak tahme te think on't; that's summat, an' mind mah wods, Squire Fuller'll be willin' aneeaf befoore the Lord's deean wiv 'im.”
Adam's faith was great, as all G.o.d's people's ought to be. The mountain may be great, but when such faith as Adam's says ”Be thou removed,” it rocks from base to summit and is cast into the sea.