Surely it did; why, the Methodist I had heard preach on the heath above the old city, preached in the same manner—­at least he preached extempore; ay, and something like the present clergyman; for the Methodist spoke very zealously and with great feeling, and so did the present clergyman; so I, of course, felt rather offended with the clergyman for speaking with zeal and feeling.  However, long before the sermon was over I forgot the offence which I had taken, and listened to the sermon with much admiration, for the eloquence and powerful reasoning with which it abounded.

Oh, how eloquent he was, when he talked of the inestimable value of a man’s soul, which he said endured for ever, whilst his body, as every one knew, lasted at most for a very contemptible period of time; and how forcibly he reasoned on the folly of a man, who, for the sake of gaining the whole world—­a thing, he said, which provided he gained he could only possess for a part of the time, during which his perishable body existed—­should lose his soul, that is, cause that precious deathless portion of him to suffer indescribable misery time without end.

There was one part of his sermon which struck me in a very particular manner:  he said, “That there were some people who gained something in return for their souls; if they did not get the whole world, they got a part of it—­lands, wealth, honour, or renown; mere trifles, he allowed, in comparison with the value of a man’s soul, which is destined either to enjoy delight, or suffer tribulation time without end; but which, in the eyes of the worldly, had a certain value, and which afforded a certain pleasure and satisfaction.  But there were also others who lost their souls, and got nothing for them—­neither lands, wealth, renown, nor consideration, who were poor outcasts, and despised by everybody.  My friends,” he added, “if the man is a fool who barters his soul for the whole world, what a fool he must be who barters his soul for nothing.”

The eyes of the clergyman, as he uttered these words, wandered around the whole congregation; and when he had concluded them, the eyes of the whole congregation were turned upon my companions and myself.

CHAPTER IX

Return from Church—­The Cuckoo and Gypsy—­Spiritual Discourse.

The service over, my companions and myself returned towards the encampment, by the way we came.  Some of the humble part of the congregation laughed and joked at us as we passed.  Mr. Petulengro and his wife, however, returned their laughs and jokes with interest.  As for Tawno and myself, we said nothing:  Tawno, like most handsome fellows, having very little to say for himself at any time; and myself, though not handsome, not being particularly skilful at repartee.  Some boys followed us for a considerable time, making all kinds of observations about gypsies; but as we walked at a great pace, we gradually left them behind, and at last lost sight of them.  Mrs. Petulengro and Tawno Chikno walked together, even as they had come; whilst Mr. Petulengro and myself followed at a little distance.