In the village there, there is no place of worship except a little Methodist one.

There isn't one of their--local preachers, I believe they call them--that don't preach a deal better than I could if I tried ever so much.

It's vulgar enough sometimes, they tell me, but then they preach, and mean it.

Now I might mean it, but I shouldn't preach;--for what is it to people at work all the week to have a man read a sermon to them?
You might as well drive a nail by pushing it in with the palm of your hand.

Those men use the hammer.