I had very little to do in the service but to witness his proceedings, which I observed with great attention, and even admiration.  His preaching struck me very much; he used to select the subject of his sermon from the Gospel of the day all through the year.  This happened to be “Good Samaritan Sunday,” so we had a discourse upon the “certain man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho,” in which he told us that “the poor wounded man was Adam’s race; the priest who went by was the Patriarchal dispensation; the Levite, the Mosaic; and the good Samaritan represented Christ; the inn was the Church; and the twopence, the Sacraments.”

He held his manuscript before his face, and read it out boldly, because he “hated,” as he said, “those fellows who read their sermons, and all the time pretend to preach them;” and he especially abhorred those who secreted notes in their Bibles:  “Either have a book, sir, or none!”

He had a great aversion to Low Church clergymen, and told me that his stag Robin, who ranged on the lawn, had the same; and that once he pinned one of them to the ground between his horns.  The poor man cried out in great fear; so he told Robin to let him go, which he did, but stood and looked at the obnoxious individual as if he would like to have him down again and frighten him, though he would not hurt him—­“Robin was kind-hearted.”

“This Evangelical,” he continued, “had a tail coat; he was dressed like an undertaker, sir.  Once upon a time there was one like him travelling in Egypt, with a similar coat and a tall hat; and the Arabs pursued him, calling him the ‘father of saucepans, with a slit tail.’” This part of his speech was evidently meant for me, for I wore a hat and coat of this description, finding it more convenient for the saddle, and for dining out when I alighted.

He persuaded me to wear a priestly garb like his, and gave me one of his old cassocks for a pattern; this I succeeded in getting made to my satisfaction, after considerable difficulty.

I came back to my work full of new thoughts and plans, determined to do what was “right” and this in spite of all fears, whether my own, or those of others.

I now began to think more of the reality of prayer, and of the meaning of the services of the Church; I emphasized my words, and insisted upon proper teaching.  I also paid more attention to my sermons, having hitherto disregarded them; for, as I said, “the Druids never preached; they only worshipped.”

I help up my manuscript and read my sermon, like Mr. Hawker; and I wore a square cap and cassock, instead of the “saucepan” and the “tails.”  This costume I continued to wear for several years, though I was frequently laughed at, and often pursued by boys, which was not agreeable to flesh and blood; but it helped to separate me from the world, and to make me feel that I was set apart as a priest to offer sacrifice for the people.

In course of time I began to make preparations for my permanent church.  I drew the designs for it, passed them, and obtained money enough to begin to build.  There was a grand ceremony at the stone-laying, and a long procession.  We had banners, chanting, and a number of surpliced clergy, besides a large congregation.