Deep Interest—Goodly Country—Two Mansions—Welshman’s Candle—Beautiful Universe—Godly Discourse—Fine Church—Points of Doctrine—Strange Adventures—Paltry Cause—Roman Pontiff—Evil Spirit. On the morrow I said to my friends, “I am about to depart; farewell!” “Depart!” said Peter and his wife, simultaneously; “whither wouldst thou go?” “I can’t stay here all my days,” I replied. “Of course not,” said Peter; “but we had no idea of losing thee so soon: we had almost hoped that thou wouldst join us, become one of us. We are under infinite obligations to thee.” “You mean I am under infinite obligations to you,” said I. “Did you not save my life?” “Perhaps so, under God,” said Peter; “and what hast thou not done for me? Art thou aware that, under God, thou hast preserved my soul from despair? But, independent of that, we like thy company, and feel a deep interest in thee, and would fain teach thee the way that is right. Hearken, to-morrow we go into Wales; go with us.” “I have no wish to go into Wales,” said I. “Why not?” said Peter, with animation. “Wales is a goodly country; as the Scripture says—a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths, that “I dare say it is a very fine country,” said I, “but I have no wish to go there just now; my destiny seems to point in another direction, to say nothing of my trade.” “Thou dost right to say nothing of thy trade,” said Peter, smiling, “for thou seemest to care nothing about it; which has led Winifred and myself to suspect that thou art not altogether what thou seemest; but, setting that aside, we should be most happy if thou wouldst go with us into Wales.” “I cannot promise to go with you into Wales,” said I; “but, as you depart to-morrow, I will stay with you through the day, and on the morrow accompany you part of the way.” “Do,” said Peter: “I have many people to see to-day, and so has Winifred; but we will both endeavour to have some serious discourse with thee, which, perhaps, will turn to thy profit in the end.” In the course of the day the good Peter came to me, as I was seated beneath the oak, and, placing himself by me, commenced addressing me in the following manner:— “I have no doubt, my young friend, that you are willing to admit, that the most important thing which a human being possesses is his soul; it is of infinitely more importance than the body, which is a frail substance, and cannot last for many years; but not so the soul, which, by its nature, is imperishable. To one of two mansions the soul is destined to depart, after its separation from the body, to heaven or hell; to the halls of eternal bliss, where God and His holy angels dwell, or to the place of endless “‘The pool is continually blazing; it is very deep, without any known bottom, and the walls are so high, that there is neither hope nor possibility of escaping over them.’ “But, as I told you just now, I have no great pleasure in talking of hell. No, friend, no; I would sooner talk of the other place, and of the goodness and hospitality of God amongst His saints above.” And then the excellent man began to dilate upon the joys of heaven, and the goodness and hospitality of God in the mansions above; explaining to me, in the clearest way, how I might get there. And when he had finished what he had to say, And in this manner the admirable woman proceeded for a considerable time, and to all her discourse I listened with attention; and when she had concluded, I took her hand and said, “I thank you,” and that was all. On the next day everything was ready for our departure. The good family of the house came to bid us farewell. There were shaking of hands, and kisses, as on the night of our arrival. And as I stood somewhat apart, the young girl of whom I have spoken so often, came up to me, and holding out her hand, said, “Farewell, young man, wherever thou goest.” Then, after looking around her, she said, “It was all true you told me. Yesterday I received a letter from him thou wottest of, he is coming soon. God bless you, young man; who would have thought thou knewest so much!” “Very probably,” said Peter; “more the pity. But I have told you the reason of my forsaking it. Frequently, when I went to the church door, I found it barred, and the priest absent; what was I to do? My heart was bursting for want of some religious help and comfort; what could I do? as good Master Rees Pritchard observes in his ‘Candle for Welshmen.’ “‘It is a doleful thing to see little children burning on the hot coals for want of help; but yet more doleful to see a flock of souls falling into the burning lake for want of a priest.’” “The Church of England is a fine church,” said I; “I would not advise any one to speak ill of the Church of England before me.” “I have nothing to say against the Church,” said Peter; “all I wish is that it would fling itself a little more open, and that its priests would a little more bestir themselves; in a word, that it would shoulder the cross and become a missionary church.” “It is too proud for that,” said Winifred. “You are much more of a Methodist,” said I, “than your husband. But tell me,” said I, addressing myself to Peter, “do you not differ from the Church in some points of doctrine? I, of course, as a true “Oh, the pride of that Church!” said Winifred, half to herself; “wandering sectaries!” “We differ in no points of doctrine,” said Peter; “we believe all the Church believes, though we are not so fond of vain and superfluous ceremonies, snow-white neckcloths and surplices, as the Church is. We likewise think that there is no harm in a sermon by the road-side, or in holding free discourse with a beggar beneath a hedge, or a tinker,” he added, smiling; “it was those superfluous ceremonies, those surplices and white neckcloths, and, above all, the necessity of strictly regulating his words and conversation, which drove John Wesley out of the Church, and sent him wandering up and down as you see me, poor Welsh Peter, do.” Nothing farther passed for some time; we were now drawing near the hills: at last I said, “You must have met with a great many strange adventures since you took up this course of life?” “Many,” said Peter, “it has been my lot to meet with; but none more strange than one which occurred to me only a few weeks ago. You were asking me, not long since, whether I believed in devils? Ay, truly, young man; and I believe that the abyss and the yet deeper Unknown do not contain them all; some walk about upon the green earth. So it happened, some weeks ago, that I was exercising my ministry about forty miles from here. I was alone, Winifred being slightly indisposed, staying for a few days at the house of an acquaintance; I had finished afternoon’s worship—the people had dispersed, and I was sitting solitary “The same kind of sneer again came on his countenance, but he almost instantly observed, that if I chose to forsake this same miserable cause, from which nothing but contempt and privation were to be expected, he would enlist me into another, from which I might expect both profit and renown. An |