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Not as I'm a-findin' faut wi' ye for't, for ye've no call to be frettin', an' somehow ye looken sorry too. Eh! Well, if the Methodies are fond o' trouble, they're like to thrive: it's a pity they canna ha't all, an' take it away from them as donna like it.
I might be mista'en but he like gave a sort of a whistle, and I saw a bit of a smile on his face; and he said, "Oh, it's all stuff! You've been among the Methodists, my good woman." But I telled him I'd never been near the Methodies. And then he said, "Well," says he, "you must come to church, where you'll hear the Scriptures properly explained, instead of sitting poring over your Bible at home."
It almost beggared the poor Methodies of that day to raise so much money, but g-glory be to G-god! we can raise it now any day in the year, and in the next g-generation we can buy our p-persecutors." "So Ebenezer Johnson, accordin' to the autum bawler's patter, got popped in the mazzard, my brother of the surplice? But he didn't climb no ladder, did he?"
"'Tis all fudge, says I," quoth lean old Bill Meadows, the watchman at the Faringfield wharves. "His story and his face don't hitch. He declares he was convarted by the Methodies, and he talks their talk about salvation and redemption and the like. But if he really had religion their way, he'd wear the face o' joy and gladness.
'Twas Devil's Island once, till the Methodies changed it fur politeness. This is the camp-meetin', then? Yer, Wonnell, take this piece of money, an' go to some house an' fetch us a bite of dinner. We'll wait fur you."
"O y-y-yes," answered the genial island exhorter, with obliging loquacity; "it was tw-w-enty-s-seven year ago that I see ole Eben-nezer Johnson come on the camp-ground of P-p-pungoteague with a mob of p-p-pirates to break up the f-f-fust Methodies camp-meetin' ever held about these sounds.
But it's a matter as he doesn't like to be spoke to about, and I can only pray to the Lord to bless and direct him." "Aye, thee't allays ready enough at prayin', but I donna see as thee gets much wi' thy prayin'. Thee wotna get double earnin's o' this side Yule. Th' Methodies 'll niver make thee half the man thy brother is, for all they're a-makin' a preacher on thee."
You'll mayhap be making such a slip yourself some day; you'll laugh o' th' other side o' your mouth then." "Catch me at it, Adam. It'll be a good while afore my head's full o' th' Methodies," said Ben. "Nay, but it's often full o' drink, and that's worse."
Wal what sort o' thing is't anyhow?" "My religion is of the right sort, Brother Holt." "Methody?" "Nothing of the kind." "What then? I thort they wur all Methodies in Swampville?" "They're all Gentiles in Swampville worse than infidels themselves." "Wal I know they brag mightily on thur genteelity. I reckon you're about right thur them, storekeepers air stuck-up enough for anythin'."
"Most of 'em do, but there's a sprinklin' of Baptists and Methodies, with here an' there a Presbyterian. Their men did come, an' started meetin's. But they didn't stay long when Si once got after 'em. He boasts that he is a loyal member of the Church of England, an' a church warden, so he can't stand any other form of 'ligion." "Oh, I see," Douglas mused. "It's a case of the dog in the manger."
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