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.”