“Why, Sam,” said his master, “don’t you like it?”

“No, sir,” he said; “that man ain’t converted at all!”

“Well, that is strange,” said the rector; “I saw his interest went off just at the very point where you took exception to the sermon.  You and Sam under stand something that I do not know.”  Thus our sermon-reading concluded, and, besides this, my witness had given his testimony.

I had stayed already two hours longer than I intended, and was tired of talking.  The rector asked me to remain, and dine with him, and promised that he would send me to church in the evening in time for the service.  I agreed to this; so he kindly took me upstairs to wash and rest.  Coming into the room with me, he shut the door, and said in confidence,

“I know you are right; my mother taught me all this when I was young!”

“Then,” I said, “we had better kneel down and pray about it.”

We did so.  In his prayer he entreated very earnestly that the scales might fall from his eyes, and that these truths which he loved when he was young might be brought to him again.

He was only praying for truth, and not for pardon and salvation; so I pointed this out to him.

“Yes—­yes,” he said; “Lord, save me!  Lord, save me!  Pardon me!”

I believe he found peace before he came down; but it is more difficult to pronounce in the case of educated, than in that of uneducated people.  In the latter, the transition from darkness to light and life is often very manifest; whereas in the case of the educated, the effect is not so clear.

However, he came down to dinner, and it was not long before he roused the anger and contempt of his wife and curate, by saying, “I am converted.”  They tried hard to laugh him out of it, and asked him which of the chapels he would join?  They suggested he had better be a Bryanite; Mr. Haslam is king of the Bryanires; and so on!

I was happy to hear all this, and could not help telling them so:  first, because the rector was counted worthy of such taunts; and, secondly, because their natural enmity was raised.  I said that I hoped they would both be converted also, and that very soon.

When I was leaving for my service, the rector, in bidding me good-bye, said, that he “was sorry he could not go with me; but would I come and preach in his pulpit on Sunday?” I promised that I would.

On the way, Sam, who was driving me to church, became much excited, and seemed beside himself for joy.  Putting up his arms all of a sudden, with reins and whip in either hand, in the act of praising God, he frightened the horse, so that it ran away at full speed.

“Oh, never mind—–­never mind!” he said, “don’t be frightened!  No doubt the old devil ’ud like to upset both on us; but I am sure the dear Lord will take care of us, don’t fear.”

Certainly there was need, for the horse went headlong down a long narrow hill, and if anything else had been on the road, we must have come into disastrous collision.  We were, however, carried safely down, and reached the church in good time.