as much pleased with them, as they appeared to be with me. Being prevailed upon to tarry dinner the next day, I did not leave Bristol until the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to proceed as far as Bath, and take the stage for London, upon the ensuing morning. As I passed over one of the most charming roads in England, and alone, I had not only time for reflection, but my reflections were pensively pleasing: I was advancing towards the metropolis; hitherto I had experienced the goodness of God, and I indulged the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatly elated; I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture; I was not wearied by my walk, it was only sixteen miles from Bristol, to Bath; the fields stood thick with corn, the valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of hay, seemed to laugh and sing, and the birds, in their variety, were, as if hymning the praises of their Creator, while the setting sun heightened the grandeur, and gave the finishing touches to the scene. My feelings were indeed highly wrought. I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful river; two hay-makers were returning from their toil; I addressed them, and, in my accustomed manner, I expressed my delight, and my gratitude. "These," said I, in a strain of rapture, "These are thy glorious works, Parent of good; Almighty Father, thine this universal frame; these wond'rous fair—surpassing wonder far—thyself how wond'rous then!" Tears gushed in my eyes, as I thus expressed the transport of my soul. The men were astonished, yet they seemed pleased; I asked them the name of the river? They replied, "the Avon, sir." Then, said I, it flows through the native place of Shakspeare. "Shakspeare, who is he?" A writer, I replied; wondering at myself for mentioning his name; but I thought of Shakspeare, and I have ever been accustomed to think loud; the thought was an addition to my pleasures, and, from the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh. My companions could not fail of discovering, that I came from Ireland, yet they cast no reflections upon me, as is the custom with low people, upon these occasions; they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. "I fancy," said one of them, "you are a Methodist." I am said I—I do not deny it. "Then my Bess will be glad to see thee, I'll warrant me; wool thee come along with me? Thee may go farther, and fare worse, I can tell thee that." "Ay, ay," said the other, "Thee had best go with my neighbour—I'll warrant thee good cheer." I thanked this kind man, and my heart swelled with gratitude to that Being, in whose hands are the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me on my entrance into this strange city, with loving-kindness, and tender mercy.
