’I had now the benefit of religious instruction, and also to a certain extent of religious fellowship, for the preacher and various members of his flock frequently came to see me.  They were honest plain men, not exactly of the description which I wished for, but still good sort of people, and I was glad to see them.  Once on a time, when some of them were with me, one of them inquired whether I was fervent in prayer.  “Very fervent,” said I.  “And do you read the Scriptures often?” said he.  “No,” said I.  “Why not?” said he.  “Because I am afraid to see there my own condemnation.”  They looked at each other, and said nothing at the time.  On leaving me, however, they all advised me to read the Scriptures with fervency and prayer.

’As I had told these honest people, I shrank from searching the Scriptures; the remembrance of the fatal passage was still too vivid in my mind to permit me.  I did not wish to see my condemnation repeated, but I was very fervent in prayer, and almost hoped that God would yet forgive me by virtue of the blood-shedding of the Lamb.  Time passed on, my affairs prospered, and I enjoyed a certain portion of tranquillity.  Occasionally, when I had nothing else to do, I renewed my studies.  Many is the book I read, especially in my native language, for I was always fond of my native language, and proud of being a Welshman.  Amongst the books I read were the odes of the great Ab Gwilym, whom thou, friend, hast never heard of; no, nor any of thy countrymen, for you are an ignorant race, you Saxons, at least with respect to all that relates to Wales and Welshmen.  I likewise read the book of Master Ellis Wyn.  The latter work possessed a singular fascination for me, on account of its wonderful delineations of the torments of the nether world.

’But man does not love to be alone; indeed, the Scripture says that it is not good for man to be alone.  I occupied my body with the pursuits of husbandry, and I improved my mind with the perusal of good and wise books; but, as I have already said, I frequently sighed for a companion with whom I could exchange ideas, and who could take an interest in my pursuits; the want of such a one I more particularly felt in the long winter evenings.  It was then that the image of the young person whom I had seen in the house of the preacher frequently rose up distinctly before my mind’s eye, decked with quiet graces—­hang not down your head, Winifred—­and I thought that of all the women in the world I should wish her to be my partner, and then I considered whether it would be possible to obtain her.  I am ready to acknowledge, friend, that it was both selfish and wicked in me to wish to fetter any human being to a lost creature like myself, conscious of having committed a crime for which the Scriptures told me there is no pardon.  I had, indeed, a long struggle as to whether I should make the attempt or not—­selfishness however prevailed.  I will not detain your attention