It was not more than one or two years after he joined the Methodists that he resolved on a visit to his native land. He had received the avails of teaching for several terms; his dress was plain, cotton homespun, and cost but little; and his board had been gratuitously bestowed by Colonel Wootten. It was a beautiful morning in April that he led for the last time, by the solicitations of his host, in the family devotions, and after breakfast, and again singing a favorite song, he gave the parting hand to each of the family, white and black. “I’ll go with you, brother Clark, to the forks of the road,” said the venerable Colonel. As they walked along the lane, Clark thought, though kindly repulsed before, he would again tender payment for his board and several articles of clothing he had received as gratuities, and he mentioned the subject as they arrived at the junction where they must part. “No, my dear brother,” said the kind-hearted old Methodist, “you have done a heap more for my family than they can ever do for you. For until you talk’d to that wayward boy, our George, who was wild like, and had been after cards and whiskey, I felt orfully afeared he would be lost and ruined te-totally. But when I know’d you’d tuk him in hand, and I’d he’rn you pray so all-graciously for him in the tobacco house, I sort’r pluck’d up heart, and concluded my poor prayers for him would’nt do no harm. So I prayed too as hard as I could. An’ now he’s so steady and cheerful, and sings so pretty sin’ he join’d Society.--O, brother Clark, I hate to part with you; but do pray for me and mine, when you’re on the great ocean;--and should you ever get back ag’in to Georgia, remember my house’s your home, as long as I live. And ef George lives and holds out as he’s begun, he’ll never let you want, for I do believe he loves you better nor his father and mother.” The old Colonel was full and he could say no more--his heart was gushing out of his eyes like a shower of rain, as he gave the hand of Mr. Clark such a parting squeeze as caused him never to forget this old Methodist brother. He might have paid his passage and gone in the cabin of one of the slow sailing vessels of that period, which were usually from two to three months in crossing the ocean to Europe. But though he never knew the feeling of avarice;--though he never hoarded up money for its own sake, but believed steadfastly in the same providence that clothes the lilies of the field, and feeds the birds of the air, he went aboard like a true-hearted sailor, before the mast. Arriving at Charleston, he found the Royal George, a trim, snug, merchant ship, just fitting out for the port of London, and shipped as a regular seaman.