hand of his wife in his own, and then, in tones broken and almost
inarticulate, commenced telling me his tale--the tale of the Pechod
Ysprydd Glan.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

TAKING A CUP--GETTING TO HEAVEN--AFTER BREAKFAST--WOODEN
GALLERY--MECHANICAL HABIT--RESERVED AND GLOOMY--LAST WORDS--A LONG
TIME--FROM THE CLOUDS--MOMENTARY CHILL--PLEASING ANTICIPATION

'I was born in the heart of North Wales, the son of a respectable farmer,
and am the youngest of seven brothers.

'My father was a member of the Church of England, and was what is
generally called a serious man. He went to church regularly, and read
the Bible every Sunday evening; in his moments of leisure he was fond of
holding religious discourse both with his family and his neighbours.

'One autumn afternoon, on a week day, my father sat with one of his
neighbours taking a cup of ale by the oak table in our stone kitchen. I
sat near them, and listened to their discourse. I was at that time seven
years of age. They were talking of religious matters. "It is a hard
matter to get to heaven," said my father. "Exceedingly so," said the
other. "However, I don't despond; none need despair of getting to
heaven, save those who have committed the sin against the Holy Ghost."

'"Ah!" said my father, "thank God I never committed that--how awful must
be the state of a person who has committed the sin against the Holy
Ghost. I can scarcely think of it without my hair standing on end"; and
then my father and his friend began talking of the nature of the sin
against the Holy Ghost, and I heard them say what it was, as I sat with
greedy ears listening to their discourse.

'I lay awake the greater part of the night musing upon what I had heard.
I kept wondering to myself what must be the state of a person who had
committed the sin against the Holy Ghost, and how he must feel. Once or
twice I felt a strong inclination to commit it, a strange kind of fear,
however, prevented me; at last I determined not to commit it, and, having
said my prayers, I fell asleep.

'When I awoke in the morning the first thing I thought of was the
mysterious sin, and a voice within me seemed to say, "Commit it"; and I
felt a strong temptation to do so, even stronger than in the night. I
was just about to yield, when the same dread, of which I have already
spoken, came over me, and, springing out of bed, I went down on my knees.
I slept in a small room alone, to which I ascended by a