“It seems that you got round him—that you found his weak side, young rogue! You had been talking to him of piety and repentance, and wanting to get to heaven. But I’ll give you a word of advice, my man, better than twenty sermons. You see I’m thriving and prosperous enough, and well respected, though I should not say so, and I never wronged a man in my life. If you would be the same, just mind what I say, keep the commandments, do your duty, work hard, owe nothing, and steer clear of the gin-shop, and depend upon it you’ll be happy now, and be sure of heaven at the last.” “Mr. Ewart said that by faith—” “Faith!” exclaimed the farmer, not very reverently; “don’t trouble yourself with things quite above you—things which you cannot understand. It is all very well for a parson like him—a very worthy man in his way, I believe, but with many odd, fanciful notions. My religion is a very simple one, suited to a plain man like me; I do what is right, and I expect to be rewarded; I go on in a straightforward, honest, industrious way, and I feel safer than any talking and canting can make one. Now you mind what you have heard, Mark Dowley, and come up to my farm in an hour or two. I hope I’ll have a good account to give of you to the parson; and the young lord, he too seemed to take quite an interest in you.” “Did he?” said Mark, somewhat surprised. “Yes, it’s odd enough, with such riches as he has, one would have thought that he had something else to think of than a beggar boy. Why, he has as many thousands a-year as there are sheaves in that field!” “He had a splendid carriage and horses.” “Carriage! he might have ten for the matter of that. They say he has the finest estate in the county of York; but I can’t stay here idling all day,” added the farmer; “you come up to my place as I said, and remember all you’ve heard to-day. I have promised to give you a trial; but mark me, my lad, if I catch you at any of your old practices, that moment you leave my service. So, _honesty is the best policy_, as the good old proverb says.” With that he struck his horse with the cudgel which he carried in his hand, and went off at a slow, heavy trot.