Here he held religious services on Sundays, and once or twice of an evening during the week.
These services consisted of extempore prayers, a short address, and hymns accompanied by a harmonium, which they all appeared able to play.
What his particular doctrine was I did not inquire, nor did I wish for any information on that point.

Doubtless he was a Dissenter of some kind living in a village where there was no chapel; the services were for the family, but were also attended by a few of the villagers and some persons from neighbouring farms who preferred a simpler form of worship to that of the Church.
It was not strange that this little community should have been regarded with something like disfavour by the other villagers.

For these others, man for man, made just as much money, and paid less rent for their small cottages, and, furthermore, received doles from the vicar and his well-to-do parishioners, yet they could not better their position, much less afford the good clothing, books, music, and other pleasant things which the independent woodman bestowed on his family.

And they knew why.
The woodman's very presence in their midst was a continual reproach, a sermon on improvidence and intemperance, which they could not avoid hearing by thrusting their fingers into their ears.
During my stay with these people something occurred to cause them a very deep disquiet.

The reader will probably smile when I tell them what it was.