So here an obscure peasant, inhabiting a cot so lowly that those accustomed to more convenient and comfortable accommodation would be disposed to spurn the humble abode as a mere hovel unfit for human dwelling; whose days are devoted to toil amid exposure to all the varying influences of weather, the father of a large and increasing family, whose wants might plead excuse, and claim his undivided attention, together with a heavily afflicted wife, whose ill-health prevents her sharing her husband’s labours, or ministering to the comforts of her family, his scanty pittance not exceeding one shilling a-day, save the help derived from friendship’s gifts or dole of charity, or what his children (into whose minds he had carefully installed those principles of right and industry) could earn by cow-tending and other casual employment, the younger ones collecting the knobs of wool found in the sheep-walks, which the elder ones would in the evening card, clean, and spin, and either dispose of to persons inclined to purchase, knit into stockings, or send to Potterne or Cheverill villages in the vicinity, where a weaver or two resided, and have it wove into blankets, or flannels for petticoats. Boys and girls would accompany the father, and assist him to keep the sheep from the corn. He it is who is to commence a local reformation, both by his own example and precept, introducing the Gospel, whose divine light and effects are to spread and diffuse themselves around and onward through subsequent years—yes, even into the boundless region of that world of immensity—Eternity.