ulled. This being my
sole and only comfort, I recalled my curse upon the time, and repented
me o my rashness.

After crossing the Tweed, I saw no more of my persecutor that day, and
had hopes that he had left me for a season; but, alas, what hope was
there of my relief after the declaration I had so lately heard! I took
up my lodgings that night in a small miserable inn in the village of
Ancrum, of which the people seemed alike poor and ignorant. Before
going to bed, I asked if it was customary with them to have family
worship of evenings. The man answered that they were so hard set with
the world they often could not get time, but if I would be so kind as
to officiate they would be much obliged to me. I accepted the
invitation, being afraid to go to rest lest the commotions of the
foregoing night might be renewed, and continued the worship as long as
in decency I could. The poor people thanked me, hoped my prayers would
be heard both on their account and my own, seemed much taken with my
abilities, and wondered how a man of my powerful eloquence chanced to
be wandering about in a condition so forlorn. I said I was a poor
student of theology, on my way to Oxford. They stared at one another
with expressions of wonder, disappointment, and fear. I afterwards came
to learn that the term theology was by them quite misunderstood, and
that they had some crude conceptions that nothing was taught at Oxford
but the black arts, which ridiculous idea prevailed over all the south
of Scotland. For the present I could not understand what the people
meant, and less so when the man asked me, with deep concern: "If I was
serious in my intentions of going to Oxford? He hoped not, and that I
would be better guided."

I said my education wanted finishing; but he remarked that the Oxford
arts were a bad finish for a religious man's education. Finally, I
requested him to sleep with me, or in my room all the night, as I
wanted some serious and religious conversation with him, and likewise
to convince him that the study of the fine arts, though not absolutely
necessary, were not incompatible with the character of a Christian
divine. He shook his head, and wondered how I could call them fine
arts--hoped I did not mean to convince him by any ocular demonstration,
and at length reluctantly condescended to sleep with me, and let the
lass and wife sleep together for one night. I believe he would have
declined it had it not been some hints from his