that are Christ’s servants,” says he, “can go no further than to
exhort and instruct: and when men comply, submit to the reproof,
and promise what we ask, ’tis all we can do; we are bound to accept
their good words; but believe me, sir,” said he, “whatever you may
have known of the life of that man you call Will Atkin’s, I believe
he is the only sincere convert among them: I will not despair of
the rest; but that man is apparently struck with the sense of his
past life, and I doubt not, when he comes to talk of religion to
his wife, he will talk himself effectually into it: for attempting
to teach others is sometimes the best way of teaching ourselves.
If that poor Atkins begins but once to talk seriously of Jesus
Christ to his wife, he will assuredly talk himself into a thorough
convert, make himself a penitent, and who knows what may follow.”
Upon this discourse, however, and their promising, as above, to
endeavour to persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he
married the two other couple; but Will Atkins and his wife were not
yet come in. After this, my clergyman, waiting a while, was
curious to know where Atkins was gone, and turning to me, said, “I
entreat you, sir, let us walk out of your labyrinth here and look;
I daresay we shall find this poor man somewhere or other talking
seriously to his wife, and teaching her already something of
religion.” I began to be of the same mind; so we went out
together, and I carried him a way which none knew but myself, and
where the trees were so very thick that it was not easy to see
through the thicket of leaves, and far harder to see in than to see
out: when, coming to the edge of the wood, I saw Atkins and his
tawny wife sitting under the shade of a bush, very eager in
discourse: I stopped short till my clergyman came up to me, and
then having showed him where they were, we stood and looked very
steadily at them a good while. We observed him very earnest with
her, pointing up to the sun, and to every quarter of the heavens,
and then down to the earth, then out to the sea, then to himself,
then to her, to the woods, to the trees. “Now,” says the
clergyman, “you see my words are made good, the man preaches to
her; mark him now, he is telling her that our God has made him,
her, and the heavens, the earth, the sea, the woods, the trees,
&c.” – “I believe he is,” said I. Immediately we perceived Will
Atkins start upon his feet, fall down on his knees, and lift up
both his hands. We supposed he said something, but we could not
hear him; it was too far for that. He did not continue kneeling
half a minute, but comes and sits down again by his wife, and talks
to her again; we perceived then the woman very attentive, but
whether she said anything to him we could not tell. While the poor
fellow was upon his knees I could see the tears run plentifully
down my clergyman’s cheeks, and I could hardly forbear myself; but
it was a great affliction to us both that we were not near enough
to hear anything that passed between them. Well, however, we could
come no nearer for fear of disturbing them: so we resolved to see
an end of this piece of still conversation, and it spoke loud
enough to us without the help of voice. He sat down again, as I
have said, close by her, and talked again earnestly to her, and two
or three times we could see him embrace her most passionately;
another time we saw him take out his handkerchief and wipe her
eyes, and then kiss her again with a kind of transport very
unusual; and after several of these things, we saw him on a sudden
jump up again, and lend her his hand to help her up, when
immediately leading her by the hand a step or two, they both