'Ah,' said I, pointing upwards, 'I understand you now. Yes, I know Him;
He is the best of acquaintances.'

The old man said he was delighted. 'Hold,' he added, striking his bosom;
'it makes me happy here.' There were a few who knew the Lord in these
valleys, he went on to tell me; not many, but a few. 'Many are called,'
he quoted, 'and few chosen.'

'My father,' said I, 'it is not easy to say who know the Lord; and it is
none of our business. Protestants and Catholics, and even those who
worship stones, may know Him and be known by Him; for He has made all.'

I did not know I was so good a preacher.

The old man assured me he thought as I did, and repeated his expressions
of pleasure at meeting me. 'We are so few,' he said. 'They call us
Moravians here; but down in the Department of Gard, where there are also
a good number, they are called Derbists, after an English pastor.'

I began to understand that I was figuring, in questionable taste, as a
member of some sect to me unknown; but I was more pleased with the
pleasure of my companion than embarrassed by my own equivocal position.
Indeed, I can see no dishonesty in not avowing a difference; and
especially in these high matters, where we have all a sufficient
assurance that, whoever may be in the wrong, we ourselves are not
completely in the right. The truth is much talked about; but this old
man in a brown nightcap showed himself so simple, sweet, and friendly,
that I am not unwilling to profess myself his convert. He was, as a
matter of fact, a Plymouth Brother. Of what that involves in the way of
doctrine I have no idea nor the time to inform myself; but I know right