“And I, also,” said I, “am a preacher of the gospel, though not of this country.”  And now I thought it right to give him to understand, that it was not, as I had before intimated, out of absolute poverty, but with a view of becoming better acquainted with men and manners, that I thus travelled on foot.  He was as much pleased with this agreeable meeting as myself, and before we took a step farther, we cordially shook hands.

He now began to address me in Latin, and on my answering him in that language, which I attempted to pronounce according to the English manner of speaking it, he applauded me not a little for my correct pronunciation.  He then told me, that some years ago, in the night also, and nearly at the same spot where he found me, he had met another German, who likewise spoke to him in Latin; but this unknown countryman of mine had pronounced it so very badly, that he said it was absolutely unintelligible.

The conversation now turned on various theological matters; and among others on the novel notions of a Dr. Priestly, whom he roundly blamed.  I was not at all disposed to dispute that point with him, and so, professing with great sincerity, a high esteem for the Church of England, and great respect and regard for its clergy, I seemed to gain his good opinion.

Beguiling the tediousness of the road by such discourse, we were now got, almost without knowing it, quite to Oxford.

He told me I should now see one of the finest and most beautiful cities, not only in England, but in all Europe.  All he lamented, was, that on account of the darkness of the night, I should not immediately see it.

This really was the case:  “And now,” said he, as we entered the town, “I introduce you into Oxford by one of the finest, the longest, and most beautiful streets, not only in this city, but in England, and I may safely add in all Europe.”

The beauty and the magnificence of the street I could not distinguish; but of its length I was perfectly sensible by my fatigue; for we still went on, and still through the longest, the finest, and most beautiful street in Europe, which seemed to have no end; nor had I any assurance that I should be able to find a bed for myself in all this famous street.  At length my companion stopped to take leave of me, and said he should now go to his college.

“And I,” said I, “will seat myself for the night on this stone bench and await the morning, as it will be in vain for me, I imagine, to look for shelter in a house at this time of night.”

“Seat yourself on a stone!” said my companion, and shook his head.  “No, no! come along with me to a neighbouring ale-house, where it is possible they mayn’t be gone to bed, and we may yet find company.”  We went on a few houses further, and then knocked at a door.  It was then nearly twelve.  They readily let us in; but how great was my astonishment, when, on being shown into a room on the left, I saw a great number of clergymen, all with their gowns and bands on, sitting round a large table, each with his pot of beer before him.  My travelling companion introduced me to them, as a German clergyman, whom he could not sufficiently praise for my correct pronunciation of the Latin, my orthodoxy, and my good walking.