On the next day everything was ready for our departure.  The good family of the house came to bid us farewell.  There were shaking of hands, and kisses, as on the night of our arrival.

And as I stood somewhat apart, the young girl of whom I have spoken so often came up to me, and holding out her hand, said, ’Farewell, young man, wherever thou goest.’  Then, after looking around her, she said, ’It was all true you told me.  Yesterday I received a letter from him thou wottest of; he is coming soon.  God bless you, young man; who would have thought thou knewest so much!’

So, after we had taken our farewell of the good family, we departed, proceeding in the direction of Wales.  Peter was very cheerful, and enlivened the way with godly discourse and spiritual hymns, some of which were in the Welsh language.  At length I said, ’It is a pity that you did not continue in the Church; you have a turn for Psalmody, and I have heard of a man becoming a bishop by means of a less qualification.’

‘Very probably,’ said Peter; ’more the pity.  But I have told you the reason of my forsaking it.  Frequently, when I went to the church door, I found it barred, and the priest absent; what was I to do?  My heart was bursting for want of some religious help and comfort; what could I do? as good Master Rees Pritchard observes in his “Candle for Welshmen":—­

’"It is a doleful thing to see little children burning on the hot coals for want of help; but yet more doleful to see a flock of souls falling into the burning lake for want of a priest."’

‘The Church of England is a fine church,’ said I; ’I would not advise any one to speak ill of the Church of England before me.’

‘I have nothing to say against the church,’ said Peter; ’all I wish is that it would fling itself a little more open, and that its priests would a little more bestir themselves; in a word, that it would shoulder the cross and become a missionary church.’

‘It is too proud for that,’ said Winifred.

‘You are much more of a Methodist,’ said I, ’than your husband.  But tell me,’ said I, addressing myself to Peter, ’do you not differ from the church in some points of doctrine?  I, of course, as a true member of the church, am quite ignorant of the peculiar opinions of wandering sectaries.’

‘Oh the pride of that church!’ said Winifred, half to herself; ’wandering sectaries!’

‘We differ in no points of doctrine,’ said Peter; ’we believe all the church believes, though we are not so fond of vain and superfluous ceremonies, snow-white neckcloths and surplices, as the church is.  We likewise think that there is no harm in a sermon by the road-side, or in holding free discourse with a beggar beneath a hedge, or a tinker,’ he added, smiling; ’it was those superfluous ceremonies, those surplices and white neckcloths, and, above all, the necessity of strictly regulating his words and conversation, which drove John Wesley out of the church, and sent him wandering up and down as you see me, poor Welsh Peter, do.’