And when he had finished what he had to say, he left me, whereupon Winifred drew nigh, and sitting down by me, began to address me. “I do not think,” said she, “from what I have observed of thee, that thou wouldst wish to be ungrateful, and yet, is not thy whole life a series of ingratitude, and to whom?—to thy Maker. Has He not endowed thee with a goodly and healthy form; and senses which enable thee to enjoy the delights of His beautiful universe—the work of His hands? Canst thou not enjoy, even to rapture, the brightness of the sun, the perfume of the meads, and the song of the dear birds, which inhabit among the trees? Yes, thou canst; for I have seen thee, and observed thee doing so. Yet, during the whole time that I have known thee, I have not heard proceed from thy lips one single word of praise or thanksgiving to—”
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!”
So after we had taken our farewell of the good family, we departed, proceeding in the direction of Wales. Peter was very cheerful, and
enlivened the way with godly discourse and spiritual hymns, some of which were in the Welsh language. At length I said, “It is a pity that you did not continue in the church; you have a turn for Psalmody, and I have heard of a man becoming a bishop, by means of a less qualification.”
“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.”