As it happened, the people at Worlingham, with whom I lodged had a son, who had just taken a business in the parish of St. Lawrence, near Bungay, an agricultural district. This man, wanting another hand, I was engaged to go there to work for him, for a time: but the poor master was not very successful. His wife was afflicted with violent epileptic fits. I continued with him about a year, and we had a good run of work, but adverse circumstances bore him down, and in a short time after he left his suffering wife in the care of her parents, sold his effects, and emigrated to America, and I heard but little more of George Whyatt. As to myself, I was glad to leave the neighbourhood, for gross darkness seemed to have covered the minds of the people, being “led captive by the adversary at his will,” from whose power they were not easily delivered, except by divine interposition. The “Royal Oak” was the place of meeting on Sundays. There were then no prohibited hours. Those, who appeared to be of the better class, did not scruple to spend the best part of the Sabbath at the tavern—sad waste of life and time. From this place, I thought I should like to obtain work at Laxfield, my native village. My parents were still there, and I tried, but did not succeed. There was no open door, and the right way was more eastward and I once more tented my steps to Worlingham, and perhaps felt more happy than I had been for some time. Being accepted at my former lodgings, I worked sometimes for my late master, and sometimes for his father, and had the free use of my hands and feet, and withal felt the privilege of breathing in a more salubrious atmosphere, the comfort of which I felt to be of considerable value, as my aim was not to be conformed to the world. I could attend the services of the church, and also the services of the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, where I found much spiritual instruction, although, by the way, I did not endorse all their sentiments. My views were becoming Calvanistic, which were strengthened when I occasionally heard Mr. George Wright, Baptist Minister, of Beccles, and Mr. Sloper, of the Congregational Chapel of that town, both of whom are departed hence, and have entered into their rest to be for ever with the Lord, while it is my privilege to follow, although at an humble distance, amid the perplexing and diversified vicissitudes to which poor fallen man is subject in this time state, and having no settled and permanent repose, is continually reminded that the true and substantial rest is at the end of his journey, if sought after according to the instructions contained in God’s Holy Word.