“‘Well, reverend sir,’ said he, with a bland smile on his face, ‘I am here at your own request. How you found out my place of abode I am at some loss to discover, and what your particular business may be with me, I can still less conjecture. I shall doubtless learn both at your convenience.’
“There was nothing in the words of this address to give the slightest offence; yet there was something in the tone in which it was uttered, to excite uncomfortable feelings in my mind, and I saw Mr. Walker slightly colour, as if he felt somewhat nettled at the manner at least of the address. Yet the feeling, if such existed, soon passed off; and he resumed his usual calm yet somewhat firm expression of countenance as he said:
“‘The second part of your difficulty, sir, you have a right to have solved, as it shall soon be; with regard to the first it seems less to the purpose. I ought in the first place to say, that it is simply in my public character as the authorized preacher of the Gospel in this parish, that I have taken what would otherwise seem a great liberty with a perfect stranger, to request an interview with him, without first assigning grounds for the request. That you have so readily complied with it, I beg to offer you my thanks.’
“I was much struck with the somewhat stately form of language which Mr. Walker in this case assumed—so different from his ordinary discourse with his plain country parishioners. He took up the tone of the scholar and the gentleman with more ease than I had thought it possible for one whose course of life had been so long removed from the society of his equals.
“‘Sir,’ said the stranger, ‘before you proceed further, allow me to protest against your assumption, that in your public character you have a right to exercise over me any superintendence or control. I belong not to your flock, I subscribe not to your creed. Even the tyrannical Church of Rome professes to fetter the minds and torture the limbs of those only who have at some period professed allegiance to her doctrines; and these are not days when the Church of England can safely arrogate to herself a power (however anxiously she may long to do so) which would rouse the dormant spirit even of an Italian slave.’
“‘Pardon me,’ said Mr. Walker, with the utmost calmness; ‘over you I neither claim nor wish to exercise any authority whatever. But there are those over whose religious condition the laws both of God and man have given me power and authority, and upon them I am bound to exercise it, both for their sakes and my own. The Church has devised a certain system which she declares to be founded on Scripture, and propounds it to all her people as their rule of faith and life. I, having given my full assent and consent to that system, have accepted the office, under her authority, of spreading and propagating that system among those committed by her (under the Bishop) to my care. I am not, then, here to reason out, either with you or my people, a new system, but simply to enforce one long established by the Church at large. I am bound by my oath “to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines,” and this by every means by which the laws of God and man may aid me. While then you are at full liberty, as far as I am concerned, to entertain any notions you may please as to religion or politics; you are not, at the same time, equally at liberty to spread them abroad among my flock, if I can by fair means prevent it—and prevent it, by God’s blessing, I will!’
“The stranger smiled scornfully at the old man’s energy of expression, and said; ‘My venerable old friend, attempt not what you cannot accomplish. The day is gone by, when recluses like you, ignorant of the world and of the strides which it has of late been making towards full liberty of thought and action, could keep men’s minds in darkness by the vain terrors of an expiring superstition. Be content to lament in your chimney corner over the obstinacy of this perverse generation, and leave the course of events to march on towards that high destination which assuredly you cannot hinder.’
“‘You much mistake the matter,’ replied Mr. Walker, ‘if you suppose that we, in these remote regions of the globe, are necessarily ignorant of the on-goings of the world beyond our barren mountains. Our books are our telescopes, which bring distant things distinctly before our observation; and history tells me the staleness and the vanishing nature of those theories which to you seem all novelty and permanence. Nor think that I threaten without power to execute my threats. I shall not wait to cure the evil which you may occasion; my duty is to prevent; and that I can do by a power of the extent of which you are probably little aware. I thank God it is a moral power, but not, on that account, the more easy to be resisted. Recollect how long I have presided over these few sheep in the wilderness, and then consider whether, by this time, they must not well know the voice of their master! Why, sir, you could not hide your head in a cottage between Eskdale Moor and Muncaster Fell, but I, did I wish it, could know where it rested, and almost what it meditated, by next morning! Take, then, my advice, and leave this country for ever. I threaten you with no loss of life or limb; but if you are found within these bounds after this solemn warning, your movements will be watched and dogged by those who have it in their power most effectually to put a stop to your designs. The mountain top will be no safeguard—the gloomy mine no security. Nay, the very fiends themselves will rise in rebellion at my bidding, and fling dismay into the hearts of those who rashly deny their existence!’
“The stranger cast on the old man a look of the utmost surprise, as he gave utterance to these last words. The scene in the mine, no doubt, rushed upon his recollection; and he looked hard at Mr. Walker, as if he wished to trace in his countenance some signs of his being privy to the ghostly visitation of the night before. But nothing could be seen there but the proofs of a mind determined to carry through its high resolves; and it was with somewhat of a subdued tone that the stranger at last resumed the conversation.
“‘I doubt not,’ said he, ‘that you have it in your power fully to execute your threats. I have heard and seen enough already to believe it. But why, sir—pardon me, I cannot account for it—why should you show so much zeal in a cause which seems so little deserving of your support,—a Church, which has left merit like yours to pine in neglect amid these barren mountains; and a State, which binds you to keep the peace among these half-civilized barbarians, and does not reward your pains with even the barren smile of its countenance?’