“If this were Sunday I would go to church,” said I.
“O, if you wish to go to church you can go to-night. This is Wednesday, and there will be service at half-past six. If you like I will come for you.”
“Pray do,” said I; “I should like above all things to go.”
Dinner over I sat before the fire occasionally dozing, occasionally sipping a glass of whiskey-and-water. A little after six the old fellow made his appearance with a kind of Spanish hat on his head. We set out, the night was very dark; we went down a long street seemingly in the direction of the west. “How many churches are there in Llandovery?” said I to my companion.
“Only one, but you are not going to Llandovery Church, but to that of Llanfair, in which our clergyman does duty once or twice a week.”
“Is it far?” said I.
“O no; just out of the town, only a few steps farther.”
We seemed to pass over a bridge and began to ascend a rising ground. Several people were going in the same direction.
“There,” said the old man, “follow with these, and a little farther up you will come to the church, which stands on the right hand.”
He then left me. I went with the rest and soon came to the church. I went in and was at once conducted by an old man who I believe was the sexton to a large pew close against the southern wall. The inside of the church was dimly lighted; it was long and narrow, and the walls were painted with a yellow colour. The pulpit stood against the northern wall near the altar, and almost opposite to the pew in which I sat. After a little time the service commenced; it was in Welsh. When the litanies were concluded the clergyman, who appeared to be a middle-aged man, and who had rather a fine voice, began to preach. His sermon was from the 119th Psalm: “Am hynny hoffais dy gorchymynion yn mwy nag aur;” “Therefore have I loved thy commandments more than gold.” The sermon, which was extempore, was delivered with great earnestness, and I make no doubt was a very excellent one, but owing to its being in South Welsh I did not derive so much benefit from it as I otherwise might have done. When it was over a great many got up and went away. Observing, however, that not a few remained, I determined upon remaining too. When everything was quiet the clergyman descending from the pulpit repaired to the vestry, and having taken off his gown went into a pew, and standing up began a discourse, from which I learned that there was to be a sacrament on the ensuing Sabbath. He spoke with much fervency, enlarging upon the high importance of the holy communion and exhorting people to come to it in a fit state of mind. When he had finished a man in a neighbouring pew got up and spoke about his own unworthiness, saying this and that about himself, his sins of commission and omission, and dwelling particularly on his uncharitableness and the malicious pleasure which he took in the misfortunes of his neighbours. The clergyman listened attentively, sometimes saying “Ah!” and the congregation also listened attentively, a voice here and there frequently saying “Ah.” When the man had concluded the clergyman again spoke, making observations on what he had heard and hoping that the rest would be visited with the same contrite spirit as their friend. Then there was a hymn and we went away.