It was simply this:—­Arthur Myrvin was the only child of the rector of Llangwillan, a small village in Wales, about ten or twelve miles from Swansea.  The living was not a rich one, but its emoluments enabled Mr. Myrvin to live in comparative affluence and comfort; beloved, revered by his parishioners, enabled to do good, to bestow happiness, to impart the knowledge of the Christian faith, he beheld his flock indeed walking in the paths of their Heavenly Shepherd.  He had been enabled by the economy of years to save sufficient to place his son respectably and comfortably at college, and it was with no little pride he looked forward to the time when those savings would be used for their long-destined purpose.  Arthur had grown beneath his eye; he had never left his father’s roof, and Mr. Myrvin trusted had imbibed principles that would preserve him from the temptations of college life, and so strong was this hope, that he parted from his son without one throb of fear.

The sudden change in his life was, however, too tempting an ordeal for the young man.  He associated with those above him both in rank and fortune, who leading him into their extravagant follies, quickly dissipated his allowance, which, though ample, permitted not extravagance.  About this time the noble proprietor of the Llangwillan parish died, and its patronage fell to the disposal of a gay and dissipated young man, who succeeded to the large estates.  Inordinately selfish, surrounded by ready flatterers, eager of gain, he was a complete tyrant in his domains.

The excessive beauty and fertility of Llangwillan, the industry and simple habits of the inhabitants, excited the desire of possessing it in the mind of one of these humble sycophants, and his point was very speedily gained.  Justice and humanity were alike banished from the code of laws now in action, and, without preparation or excuse, Mr. Myrvin was desired to quit that parish which had been his so long.  His incumbency expired with the death of the proprietor, and it had been already disposed of.  The grief of the old man and his humble friends was long and deep; it was not openly displayed, the lessons of their beloved pastor had too well instructed them in the duty of resignation; but aged cheeks were wet with unwonted tears, and mingled with the sobs of childhood.  Men, women, youth, and little children alike wept, when their pastor departed from the village.  He who had been the shepherd of his flock so long, was now cast aside as a worthless thing, and the old man’s heart was wellnigh broken.  In a rude cot, forced on his acceptance by a wealthy parishioner, situated some eight or ten miles from the scene of his happiness, he took up his abode, and to him would the villagers still throng each Sabbath, as formerly to the humble church, and old Myrvin, in the midst of his own misfortunes, found time to pray for that misguided and evil-directed man who had succeeded him in his ministry, and brought down shame on his profession, and utterly destroyed the peace which Llangwillan had enjoyed so long.