at night if he was sent for. Ah, your father was a kind man; we all loved him."

On the Sabbath-day the family worshipped at the chapel at Maenclochog, about two miles away from the house. Mr. Stephen Rowland was for some years a deacon there, and took an active interest in the place. His children went with their parents, even before they could walk so far, their mother taking one seated before her on her horse, and, when necessary, putting one behind her, pillion fashion. On the Sabbath evenings the father was in the habit of gathering his household around him, that he might teach his children and servants, and impress on them the truths they had heard in the morning.

There was much of primitive simplicity in life among the Welsh mountains in those days. The spinningwheel still stood in the chimney corner; and, when other work was done, the maids sat down to spin yarn for the clothing of the household, the mistress and her daughters often joining them, and sharing their labour, while leisure moments were devoted to stocking knitting. It was then customary for an excellent woman to "lay her hand to the spindle, and to hold the distaff, till she needed not to fear the snow for her household." For six weeks in each year the tailor took up his abode in the house, to make and repair the clothing necessary for the family; and at other periods the shoemaker came, to make their boots.

While religion reigned in the house, and industry was her handmaiden, there was still, as there should

be in every Christian family, plenty of freedom and brightness for the boys and girls. They had abundant pleasures and healthful outdoor amusements. As soon as the children were old enough to walk into the fields, they were allowed to choose a ewe lamb, which was marked as their own. From year to year the little owners rejoiced in their increased possessions, which they were at liberty to use as they pleased. The boys, as soon as possible, bought themselves ponies, and found great delight in riding about the country. The three brothers were fond of shooting, coursing, and fishing. Helped bytheir cousins, they would often entertain themselves with piling up the stones in a trout stream close by, and catching the fish which fell over the unexpected waterfall into the eager little hands stretched out to receive them. They also delighted, like other boys, in setting snares for hares and rabbits. Fearless and strong as they were, it was yet natural that they should sometimes meet with accidents. James, who was a good marksman, delighted in bringing down flying birds. One day, not seeing a gun at hand, he took up an old horse-pistol, and in order to aim better, lay down upon his back. As the birds passed, he fired. The pistol burst, broke his finger, split open his hat, and, what was of more consequence, his head also. As the tailor was in the house, he added the wounded head to the list of his repairs, and the father set the broken bone. On another occasion a fierce bull ran at the boy;

in trying to escape, he fell over the stump of a tree, and made a terrible gash in his forehead: his mother, as promptly as possible, sewed it up, and it soon healed, but the scars never wholly disappeared. Another day he was out with some companions who engaged to teach him to swim; rushes were tied under his arms to keep him up; but when beyond his depth the string broke, and he went under water. After he had sunk twice, and lost consciousness, one of his friends succeeded in getting hold of him, pulling him out, and thus saving his life.

The home life of a boy is seldom of long continuance. Mr. and Mrs. Rowland sent their eldest son to school at the age of eleven years. The sudden change from the freedom of his mountain home to quiet study tried him. He was sometimes allowed to go home from Saturday until Monday, and availed himself of one of the occasions to ask his father if he might leave school. The grave, shrewd father considered a little, and then said, “Yes, James; you may leave school on one condition, and that is that you work. No son of mine shall grow up idle; if you do not value the instruction which would fit you for future usefulness, you may stay at home." Delighted and grateful, his boy went to bed. The aspect of affairs was a little changed when on Monday morning at four o'clock he heard his father knock at the door, and say, “Get up at once." He knew he must obey, and before he was fairly awake found himself out in the fresh air. His father having given orders to his men, called

one, and said, "Master James is going with you to learn to plough." So to plough he went, returning home wonderfully hungry, and going to bed at night to sleep as a plough-boy should. A week passed thus, and by that time a reaction had taken place in his mind. The hard toil, the certainty that there would be no exemption from it; the realization that he must grow up ignorant; his father and mother's studied silence on the subject, and the consciousness that they were disappointed in him, induced him to ask very humbly if he might be allowed to go back again to school. His father told him he must consider the subject well, as his decision must be final. As As may be supposed, the next Monday morning found the boy mounted on his pony, ready to ride off with cheerfulness to be a school-boy again. He and his cousins lodged with a widow lady. It may seem strange that such young boys were allowed to live in lodgings, but it was customary at that time. A store of provisions was sent weekly from home, and the lads purchased for themselves whatever else they required; thus early learning habits of self-reliance and independence.

When James Rowland grew older, he was sent to the Grammar School at Haverfordwest, then conducted by a clergyman generally known as "Parson Thomas." Here he was required to learn the Church Catechism, which naturally formed a class-book in the school. He had conscientious objections to repeating the answers therein contained, and said so.

At first

the master tried to compel him by threats and punishments, but finding the boy's resolution unaltered, he allowed the convictions of conscience to be followed, and in future excused his Nonconformist boys from learning the lesson. One day, when "Parson Thomas" was out of the room, some of his pupils broke the rules and made a disturbance. When the master returned, he asked who was to blame for this; but no one cared to convict himself. Looking round, he said, "Rowland, do you know?" "Yes, sir." "Then tell me directly." "I cannot do that, sir." "If you do not, I will thrash you." "I cannot help that, sir." "Stand forward." He did so, and received his first and last thrashing before the whole school. His grateful companions expressed their admiration of his conduct, though they had not thought it desirable to bear the punishment of their own wrong-doing.

Like many other earnest, energetic boys, James Rowland was the subject of deep religious feeling at an early age. In after years, when about to enter on his work as a minister, he himself records :

"It was my honour and happiness to be the son of pious parents. From the days of infancy and childhood I was taught my condition as a sinner in the sight of God, and was directed to the Saviour as my only refuge. Never can I sufficiently appreciate the prayers and exhortations of a pious mother; to her admonitions and maternal care, under the blessing of God, I am chiefly indebted for the knowledge which I have derived, and for the circumstances in which I am