NESTLETON MAGNA.
[Illustration: NATHAN AT WORK.--_Page 294._]
NESTLETON MAGNA.
A STORY OF
_YORKSHIRE METHODISM._
BY
J. JACKSON WRAY.
Thirtieth Thousand.
LONDON:
JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET.
_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO
_At the Ballantyne Press_
TO THE
METHODIST CHURCHES
THROUGHOUT
THE WORLD,
NUMBERING SOME FIFTEEN MILLIONS OF ADHERENTS,
This Book is respectfully Dedicated,
IN HEARTY ADMIRATION OF THEIR NOBLE LABOURS IN
THE HIGHEST INTERESTS OF HUMANITY,
AND IN THE EXTENSION OF THE REDEEMER’S KINGDOM;
WITH THE EARNEST HOPE THAT,
UNDER THE GUIDANCE OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE, THEY WILL
SPEEDILY BE ABLE TO
ADOPT SOME PRINCIPLE OF CONFEDERACY,
BY MEANS OF WHICH THEY MAY PRESENT
A UNITED AND RESISTLESS FRONT AGAINST EVERY FORM OF
ANTI-CHRIST, AND
IN LOVING CO-OPERATION WITH OTHER CHRISTIAN CHURCHES,
MAY SOON
“WIN THE WORLD FOR CHRIST.”
PREFACE.
In this book I have sought to present a faithful picture of village
Methodism--a picture which I do not hesitate to say is being
reproduced to-day, as far as Church work and beneficent piety is
concerned, in many a village in this country. I have had, for more
years than I care to count, an intimate knowledge of Methodist rural
life. Nathan Blyth, Old Adam Olliver and his wife Judith, and some
other characters in the book, not excepting Balaam, have,
unconsciously, stood for their portraits; and I dare to say that those
parts of the story which have to do with Methodist operations and
influences, will not be considered as overdrawn by those who are most
conversant with the inner life of the Methodist people. If it be asked
why I have presented my pictures in fictitious frames, my answer is,
that I was bound to follow my natural bent, and to allow my pen to
pursue the lines most congenial to the hand that wielded it; that, of
all kinds of literature, fiction is the most attractive, and as it is
utterly useless to try to prevent its perusal, wisdom and religion,
too, suggest that it should be provided of so pure a quality, and with
so definitely a moral and religious bias, that it may not only do no
harm but some good to the reader, who would otherwise go further and
fare worse. I have honestly endeavoured so to write as to be able to
quote dear Old Bunyan, and say,--
“This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect;
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains.”
The rapid sale of the former editions of “Nestleton Magna,” and the
numerous criticisms to which it has been subjected, have given me a
welcome and unexpectedly early opportunity of giving it a careful
revision, especially in the rendering of the East Yorkshire dialect.
It is now presented to the public in a new and much improved form, and
at a price which will bring it within the reach of all classes. The
liberal and spontaneous patronage, and the highly-favourable reviews
which this my first venture has received, merit my hearty thanks, and
encourage me to a new trial of skill in the same direction. According
to the unanimous and emphatic testimony of a large jury of reviewers,
“Aud Adam Olliver” is fully worthy of the esteem I have sought to win
for him; I cannot, therefore, do better than quote the words of the
godly old patriarch, in acknowledgment of their verdict and the
popular approval, “Ah’s varry mitch obliged te yo’.”
J. JACKSON WRAY.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
Nestleton Magna 1
CHAPTER II.
“Blithe Natty,” the Harmonious Blacksmith 5
CHAPTER III.
“Master Philip” 11
CHAPTER IV.
“Aud Adam Olliver” 16
CHAPTER V.
“Black Morris” 22
CHAPTER VI.
Philip’s Visit to the Forge; or, Love’s Young Dream 28
CHAPTER VII.
Kesterton Circuit and the “Rounders” 33
CHAPTER VIII.
Adam Olliver Begins to Prophesy 40
CHAPTER IX.
The Progress of Master Philip’s Wooing 47
CHAPTER X.
Black Morris is More Free than Welcome 53
CHAPTER XI.
Both Philip and Lucy Make a Clean Breast of it 59
CHAPTER XII.
Adam Olliver in the “Methodist Confessional” 66
CHAPTER XIII.
Squire Fuller Pays a Visit to the Forge 76
CHAPTER XIV.
Aud Adam Olliver “Sees About It” 83
CHAPTER XV.
Nathan Blyth is the Victim of a Gunpowder Plot 89
CHAPTER XVI.
Squire Fuller Receives a Deputation 98
CHAPTER XVII.
Dr. Jephson Gives an Unprofessional Opinion 106
CHAPTER XVIII.
Philip Fuller Makes a Discovery 112
CHAPTER XIX.
Black Morris is Taken by Surprise 119
CHAPTER XX.
Kasper Crabtree Falls Among Thieves 126
CHAPTER XXI.
Squire Fuller Hears Unwelcome News 133
CHAPTER XXII.
Lucy Blyth Makes a Conquest 140
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Dark Deed In Thurston Wood 150
CHAPTER XXIV.
“Balaam” is Taken into Consultation 157
CHAPTER XXV.
Nathan Blyth is in a Quandary 163
CHAPTER XXVI.
Dr. Jephson’s Prescription Works Wonders 170
CHAPTER XXVII.
Hannah Olliver’s “Young Man” 177
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Bill Buckley Sees an Apparition 183
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Story of the Dead-Alive 191
CHAPTER XXX.
Midden Harbour has a New Sensation 198
CHAPTER XXXI.
“Balaam” Declares Himself a “Spiritualist” 206
CHAPTER XXXII.
Piggy Morris Hears “A Knock at the Door” 212
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Squire Fuller Introduces an Innovation 221
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Lucy Blyth has an Eye on Landed Property 230
CHAPTER XXXV.
Aud Adam Olliver to the Rescue 239
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Sister Agatha’s Ghost 247
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Philip Fuller Boldly Meets his Fate 257
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Black Morris “Wants that Brickbat Again” 267
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Nestleton Puts on Holiday Attire 276
CHAPTER XL.
An Episode in a Methodist Love-feast 285
CHAPTER XLI.
The Revolution in Midden Harbour 292
CHAPTER XLII.
Aud Adam Olliver’s “Nunc Dimittis” 299
NESTLETON MAGNA.
CHAPTER I.
NESTLETON MAGNA.
“The cottage homes of England
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o’er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.”
_Mrs. Hemans._
Nestleton Magna is as “canny” a little village as can be found in any
portion of the Three Kingdoms; and that is saying a good deal, for
there are rural gems within British borders which are quite unequalled
for cosiness and beauty by anything you can find within the four
quarters of the globe, even if you take “all the isles of the ocean”
into the bargain. Situated in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and
nestling like a brooding bird in the fertile valley of Waverdale, at
the foot of the Yorkshire Wolds, it possesses rare and quiet charms,
which elicit the spontaneous admiration of those not numerous
tourists, who prefer to explore the rich resources of English inland
scenery, rather than fag through the hurry-skurry and unsatisfactory
whirl of Continental travel. There is many a jaded man of business,
many a brain-worn student, who foolishly squanders the precious hours
of his brief holiday in rushing insanely over weary miles, through hot
and dusty cities, among tiresome hills and rugged mountains--returning
home again weary and worn--who would have found real rest and health,
and equally varied and charming landscapes, within the borders of his
motherland.
Nestleton Magna is surrounded by emerald hills, which slope gently
down to the valley in which the hamlet lies, displaying a varied
surface of wood and glade, of cornland and pasture-ground, and
surmounted by a stretch of moorland, whereon the sheep crop the
scantier herbage, and the morning mists hang like silver curtains
until the “rosy fingers of the sun” draw them aside, and then purple
heath and golden gorse gleam and glitter on them like a royal crown.
Most of the cottages are thatched and white-washed, and not a few are
embowered in honeysuckle and jasmine. Here and there a more
pretentious dwelling lifts its head, and these with their red bricks
and tiles give piquant variety to the picture. Through the village
there flows a babbling brook, in whose clear, transparent waters the
speckled trout may be seen poising themselves with waving fin, or
darting like an arrow above the gravelly bed, while sticklebacks and
minnows disport themselves in their crystal paradise. Along its
borders are two rows of unshorn willows, and here and there a poplar
lifts its stately head. On either side, in and out among the cosy
cottages, are little patches of garden ground, small tree-shaded
paddocks, and orchards which in sunny spring-time are flush with the
manifold blossoms of apple, plum, pear, and cherry-trees, which add a
peculiar charm to the attractive scene.
“Far diffused around
One boundless blush, one white impurpled shower
Of mingled blossoms; where the raptured eye
Hurries from joy to joy.”
The quaint old church stands on rising ground in the centre of the
village, and its short, square Norman tower, ivy-clad and pinnacled,
is almost overtopped by the gables of the ancient rectory which stands
close by. The church, the rectory grounds, and the pretty little
churchyard are enclosed and shadowed by a circle of fine old elms, in
which a colony of rooks have been established from time immemorial,
and their monotonous and familiar cawing gives a sylvan finish to the
scene. Near the little wych gate of the churchyard a spacious and open
green affords a pleasant playground for the chubby children, of whom
Nestleton Magna provides quite a notable supply, a gossipping place
for the village rustics in the evening hours, and pasturage for two or
three cows, a donkey or two, and, last not least, a flock of geese,
whose solemn-looking gander oft disputes possession of the field with
the aforesaid chubby children, who flee motherward before it in
undisguised alarm.
Neither is Nestleton Magna without its lions, and of these the
Nestletonians are justly proud. In Gregory Houston’s “Home-close,” on
the Abbey Farm, there are the veritable ruins of the ancient cloisters
wherein, in darker times, the Waverdale nuns led ignoble and wasted
lives. The crumbling walls and tottering archways, and grass-grown
heaps of stone, are all covered with ivy bush, bramble, and briar; but
if tradition is to be believed, there are underground passages to the
parish church on the one hand, and reaching even to Cowley Priory on
the other, where, in “the good old times,” a fraternity of Franciscan
friars ruled the roast and played queer pranks in Waverdale,
according to the manner of their tribe. Nestleton Abbey, for by that
name are the ruins known, is reputed to be haunted. It is said that
long, long ago, a certain nun called Agatha, having been placed under
penance, did in wicked revenge stab her offending Lady Superior to the
heart, and then, in bitter remorse, did plunge the fatal knife into
her own. From that day to this she has never rested quiet in her
unhallowed grave, but ever and anon “revisits the glimpses of the
moon,” attired in a white robe with a crimson stain upon the breast,
and flits among the ruins with uplifted hands, wailing out the
unavailing plaints of her unshriven soul. Surely it is given to few
villages to possess so veritable and renowned a wonder as “Sister
Agatha’s ghost.” Then there is St. Madge’s Well, in Widow Appleton’s
croft--once a far-famed shrine, to which devout pilgrimages were made
from far and near, and which is credited to this day with certain
healing virtues second only to those of Bethesda’s sacred pool. Pure,
bright, cold and crystalline, its waters strongly impregnated with
iron, it bubbles up unceasingly in the cool grot, overshadowed by
flowering hawthorn, fragrant elder, and purple beech, and no visitor
to Waverdale could ever think of neglecting to visit this charming
nook, or drinking from the iron cup chained to its stone brink, a
refreshing draught from its crystal spring. At least, if he did, Widow
Appleton’s money-box would be defrauded, and that brisk and cheery old
dame in neat black gown and frilled white cap, would wish to know the
reason why.
Time would fail to tell all the beauties of Nestleton Magna, and of
that lovely valley of Waverdale, of which it is the loveliest gem. For
the present, Waverdale Park, Thurston Wood, Cowley Priory, and a host
of minor marvels must be content with passing mention--content to wait
their several occasions in the development of this simple and
veracious story of Yorkshire village life.