man to go to sleep on his
third book, however extraordinary it may be? Assuredly not. God will
not permit that man to rest till He has cured him to a certain extent of
his selfishness, which has, however, hitherto been very useful to the
world.

Then, again in the tale of Peter Williams, is not the hand of Providence
to be seen? This person commits a sin in his childhood--utters words of
blasphemy--the remembrance of which in after life, preying upon his
imagination, unfits him for quiet pursuits, to which he seems to have
been naturally inclined; but for the remembrance of that sin, he would
have been Peter Williams the quiet, respectable Welsh farmer, somewhat
fond of reading the ancient literature of his country in winter evenings
after his work was done. God, however, was aware that there was
something in Peter Williams to entitle him to assume a higher calling; He
therefore permits this sin, which, though a childish affair, was yet a
sin, and committed deliberately, to prey upon his mind till he becomes at
last an instrument in the hand of God, a humble Paul, the great preacher,
Peter Williams, who, though he considers himself a reprobate and a
castaway, instead of having recourse to drinking in mad desperation--at
many do who consider themselves reprobates--goes about Wales and England
preaching the Word of God, dilating on His power and majesty, and
visiting the sick and afflicted, until God sees fit to restore to him his
peace of mind, which He does not do, however, until that mind is in a
proper condition to receive peace--till it has been purified by the pain
of the one idea which has so long been permitted to riot in his brain,
which pain, however, an angel, in the shape of a gentle faithful wife,
had occasionally alleviated; for God is merciful even in the blows which
He bestoweth, and will not permit anyone to be tempted beyond the measure
which he can support. And here it will be as well for the reader to
ponder upon the means by which the Welsh preacher is relieved from his
mental misery; he is not relieved by a text from the Bible, by the words
of consolation and wisdom addressed to him by his angel-minded wife, nor
by the preaching of one yet more eloquent than himself, but by a
quotation made by Lavengro from the life of Mary Flanders, cut-purse and
prostitute, which life Lavengro had been in the habit of reading at the
stall of his old friend the apple-woman, on London Bridge, who had
herself be