piled on his head as he could possibly carry. He began urging his beast
round the aisles, and the screams, and cries, and laughter of the
congregation entirely drowned all sound of Mr. Redhead's voice, and, I
believe, he was obliged to desist.

Hitherto they had not proceeded to anything like personal violence; but
on the third Sunday they must have been greatly irritated at seeing Mr.
Redhead, determined to brave their will, ride up the village street,
accompanied by several gentlemen from Bradford. They put up their horses
at the Black Bull--the little inn close upon the churchyard, for the
convenience of arvills as well as for other purposes--and went into
church. On this the people followed, with a chimney-sweeper, whom they
had employed to clean the chimneys of some out-buildings belonging to the
church that very morning, and afterward plied with drink till he was in a
state of solemn intoxication. They placed him right before the reading-
desk, where his blackened face nodded a drunken, stupid assent to all
that Mr. Redhead said. At last, either prompted by some mischief-maker,
or from some tipsy impulse, he clambered up the pulpit stairs, and
attempted to embrace Mr. Redhead. Then the profane fun grew fast and
furious. Some of the more riotous, pushed the soot-covered
chimney-sweeper against Mr. Redhead, as he tried to escape. They threw
both him and his tormentor down on the ground in the churchyard where the
soot-bag had been emptied, and, though, at last, Mr. Redhead escaped into
the Black Bull, the doors of which were immediately barred, the people
raged without, threatening to stone him and his friends. One of my
informants is an old man, who was the landlord of the inn at the time,
and he stands to it that such was the temper of the irritated mob, that
Mr. Redhead was in real danger of his life. This man, however, planned
an escape for his unpopular inmates. The Black Bull is near the top of
the long, steep Haworth street, and at the bottom, close by the bridge,