John Wesley visited Ireshopeburn 13 times, clearly at home at High House.

The promised land from Killhope top

I now exult to see,

My hope is full (O glorious hope!)

Of good spice cake and tea.

THE 18th Century quotation is attributed not to John Wesley – who would, of course, never have been so frivolous – but to Christopher Hopper, one of the great evangelist’s assistants.

From Killhope he would have looked down into Weardale. From 1760 he would have seen High House chapel at Ireshopeburn, quite magnificent then as now, but in those days probably a bit better attended.

“High House on a Sunday afternoon is a spectacle worthy of beholding,”

wrote Jacob Ralph Featherstore in Weardale Men and Manners, 170 years ago.

“Here you may see assembled,”

Featherstone added, “between 600 and 1,000 good looking, freshcoloured and well-dressed persons of both sexes. Much pains are dedicated to the singing and music and the appointed minister on this occasion delivers his crack sermon.”

The 250th anniversary celebrations draw to a close, High House proclaimed the oldest purpose-built Methodist chapel in continuous weekly use. Last Sunday afternoon about 25 welcomed the Reverend Leo Osborn, president-elect of the Methodist Conference and chair of the Newcastle upon Tyne district.

Good looking? Well, mostly. Fresh coloured? Undoubtedly. Welldressed?

What could have been more appropriate than the Somerset County Cricket Club jumper worn by the peripatetic journalist?

The singing and music? The crack sermon? We shall come to those a little later.

AMONG much else of interest, High House has a map of Wesley’s travels in 1772 alone – from Aberdeen to Pembroke, Dover to Darlington, and every mile on horseback. A latter-day white van man might not travel so far in a twelve-month, not even with “Logistics solutions” embossed in go-faster filigree on the side.

Altogether he visited Ireshopeburn 13 times, the first foray in 1752. “From the top of the next enormous mountain, we have a view of Weardale. It is a lovely prospect,” he wrote in 1772.

Actually it was June 1772, and evidence that there is nothing new under the sun. “It being very cold, I judged it best to preach in the house,” Wesley added, “though many people could not get in.”

He’d not been over-impressed with Wolsingham, mind – “eminent for nothing in this world but for a very uncommon degree of wickedness,”

his diary noted in 1766.

Wolsingham’s much changed. Not three months ago a local outcry even drove out proposals for a swingers club (whatever one of those may be.) JW would have approved.

CHAPEL steward Jean Proud, in Ireshopeburn since 1956 though a Shildon lass originally, has been the celebration’s chief organiser.

“We’ve had a wonderful time along the year, some memorable services and great fellowship,” she says. Since the founder of Methodism was an Anglican priest, they’ve shared with the CofE, too, and greatly enjoyed it.

This one also marks All Saints Day, giving Mr Osborn the chance to recall that, even 50 years ago, mere talk of saints would in some Methodist circles have been regarded with suspicion and a whole service dedicated to them greeted with cries of “No Popery”.

The sermon’s lucid, learned and lively despite the twin handicap of a chronic bad back – perhaps explaining all the jiggling about from one foot to another – and the news just before the start of the service that the minister’s beloved Aston Villa had managed but a feeble goalless draw at home to Birmingham City.

We’re all saints, he says, living and dead – “a great crowd of witnesses in the grandstand, cheering us on.”

Probably more than they’ll soon be getting at Villa Park.

He’s also realistic about John Wesley. “I reckon if I’d been in his presence for an hour, I’d have had the screaming habdabs. He was the most difficult man to get alongside,” he says.

The sermon is received in total (some might say reverential) silence, save for the surreptitious susurration of sweetie wrappings. At its conclusion, the lady behind simply says “Uh-huh”.

There is an academic treatise, possibly a whole book, to be written on the dales’ use of the term “Uh-huh.”

Or possibly ah-hah. There seems little doubt, however, that generally it signifies approbation.

Yet further removed from Methodist tradition, Leo also invites those present to light a candle – what the Roman Catholics call a votive candle – as a symbol of a prayer intention.

At one point there’s a danger of the whole historic building being set ablaze – not the intention, nor the hope, but a jolly good story were it to have happened.

There’ve been roof-raising hymns like Come Let Us Join our Cheerful Songs and Ye Holy Angels Bright. At the end we sing For All the Saints, all eight verses, joyfully and exuberantly.

“I could do with a brandy and lemonade after that,” says Maxine Raine, assistant organist and St John’s Chapel sub-postmistress, high in the gallery above.

Though there’s no brandy and lemon, there’s inevitably a generous spread – spice cake and more tea. Up at High House chapel, even after 250 years, there are some things which, happily, never change.

■ High House chapel’s regular Sunday service is at 10.45am, when all are welcome. The adjoining Weardale Museum is open from May to October. Details on 01388-517433.