’At last my friend said to me, “It is now time thou shouldest return to thy mother and thy brother.”  So I arose, and departed to my mother and my brother; and at my departure my old friend gave me his blessing, and his wife and the young person shed tears, the last especially.  And when my mother saw me, she shed tears, and fell on my neck and kissed me, and my brother took me by the hand and bade me welcome; and when our first emotions were subsided, my mother said, “I trust thou art come in a lucky hour.  A few weeks ago my cousin (whose favourite thou always wast) died and left thee his heir—­left thee the goodly farm in which he lived.  I trust, my son, that thou wilt now settle, and be a comfort to me in my old days.”  And I answered, “I will, if so please the Lord”; and I said to myself, “God grant that this bequest be a token of the Lord’s favour.”

’And in a few days I departed to take possession of my farm; it was about twenty miles from my mother’s house, in a beautiful but rather wild district; I arrived at the fall of the leaf.  All day long I busied myself with my farm, and thus kept my mind employed.  At night, however, I felt rather solitary, and I frequently wished for a companion.  Each night and morning I prayed fervently unto the Lord; for His hand had been very heavy upon me, and I feared Him.

’There was one thing connected with my new abode which gave me considerable uneasiness—­the want of spiritual instruction.  There was a church, indeed, close at hand, in which service was occasionally performed, but in so hurried and heartless a manner that I derived little benefit from it.  The clergyman to whom the benefice belonged was a valetudinarian, who passed his time in London, or at some watering-place, entrusting the care of his flock to the curate of a distant parish, who gave himself very little trouble about the matter.  Now I wanted every Sunday to hear from the pulpit words of consolation and encouragement, similar to those which I had heard uttered from the pulpit by my good and venerable friend, but I was debarred from this privilege.  At length, one day being in conversation with one of my labourers, a staid and serious man, I spoke to him of the matter which lay heavy upon my mind; whereupon, looking me wistfully in the face, he said, “Master, the want of religious instruction in my church was what drove me to the Methodists.”  “The Methodists,” said I, “are there any in these parts?” “There is a chapel,” said he, “only half a mile distant, at which there are two services every Sunday, and other two during the week.”  Now it happened that my venerable friend was of the Methodist persuasion, and when I heard the poor man talk in this manner, I said to him, “May I go with you next Sunday?” “Why not?” said he; so I went with the labourer on the ensuing Sabbath to the meeting of the Methodists.

’I liked the preaching which I heard at the chapel very well, though it was not quite so comfortable as that of my old friend, the preacher being in some respects a different kind of man.  It, however, did me good, and I went again, and continued to do so, though I did not become a regular member of the body at that time.