Blair Collection > Rhys Lewis, minister of Bethel

312 RHYS LEWIS.
determined to sever my connection -witli him, for good ; only I
found that to be a more difficult task than I had imagined.
His magnanimous spirit, his open heart, his shrewdness, and
especially his sharp, ready tongue, renewed my admiration for
him every time we spoke, and made me forget, for the moment,
his failings, numerous though they were. Although he made
no profession of the fact, I could not help perceiving his fond-
ness for me; and I was certain no one living felt a greater
interest in my welfare than he. I had noticed of late, with
grief, that Will halted more than ever in his attendance at
chapel ; what was true of him being true also of his parents.
But this, notwithstanding, my old companion was at Com-
munion when my cause was brought on ; and glad was I to see
him there, chiefly, I will admit, because I knew I should get
from him a detailed account of every word that transpired after
I was sent out. Naturally enough, I had a curiosity to learn
what was said of me in my absence, and I knew Will could
supply me with the whole. I have endeavoured to transmit to
paper all I have considered worth recording of Will's utter-
ances, as nearly as I could, both in form and substance, to the
way in which they left his lips. That I shall try to do once
more. When we left Communion I think it was I who, for
once, was waiting for Will, and not Will for me.
" Just the thing," said he. " I wanted a chat with you."
"I knew. Will, you would tell me all that took place," I
returned. "How did things come off after I was turned outP "
" A verhaiim et Jiteratim report would do you no good in tbo
world," he observed. " The only thing that tickled my fancy
a bit was Old Scraper insisting that you should be asked to
preach before Communion, so that they might see the sort of
stuff there was in you, and Abel answering him that the plan
would work admirably had you happened to be newly come
from America, and no one knew anything about you. I can
think of nothing else worth the mention, except that that
old thorough bred, Thomas Bartley, when the hands went up on
your side, raised both his own — ^just like Whitefield in the
picture — as an apology, I thought, for the unavoidable absence
of Barbara Bartley, owing to a severe attack of rheumatism.
But let that be. You have to-night reached a point I have