Thou didst choose the best portion, again I say--
Resign it not till thy dying day."

The old vicarage of Llandovery is a very large mansion of dark red brick,
fronting the principal street or market-place, and with its back to a
green meadow bounded by the river Bran. It is in a very dilapidated
condition, and is inhabited at present by various poor families. The
principal room, which is said to have been the old vicar's library, and
the place where he composed his undying Candle, is in many respects a
remarkable apartment. It is of large dimensions. The roof is curiously
inlaid with stucco or mortar, and is traversed from east to west by an
immense black beam. The fire-place, which is at the south, is very large
and seemingly of high antiquity. The windows, which are two in number
and look westward into the street, have a quaint and singular appearance.
Of all the houses in Llandovery the old vicarage is by far the most
worthy of attention, irrespective of the wonderful monument of God's
providence and grace who once inhabited it.

The reverence in which the memory of Rees Pritchard is still held in
Llandovery the following anecdote will show. As I was standing in the
principal street staring intently at the antique vicarage, a
respectable-looking farmer came up and was about to pass, but observing
how I was employed he stopped, and looked now at me and now at the
antique house. Presently he said:

"A fine old place, is it not, sir? but do you know who lived there?"

Wishing to know what the man would say provided he thought I was ignorant
as to the ancient inmate, I turned a face of inquiry upon him; whereupon
he advanced towards me two or three steps, and placing his face so close
to mine that his nose nearly touched my cheek, he said in a kind of
piercing whisper--

"The Vicar."

Then drawing his face back he looked me full in the eyes as if to observe
the effect of his intelligence, gave me two nods as if to say, "He did,
indeed," and departed.

_The_ Vicar of Llandovery had then been dead nearly two hundred years.
Truly the man in whom piety and genius are blended is immortal upon
earth.

CHAPTER XCVIII

Departure from Llandovery--A Bitter Methodist--North and South--The
Caravan--Captain Bosvile--Deputy Ranger--A Scrimmage--The Heavenly
Gwynfa--Dangerous Position.

On the tenth I departed from Llandovery, which I have no hesitation in
saying is about the pleasantest little town in