At our return home that evening we were talking of the Moravians and the oddness of their worship, and Mr. Milnes, who most obligingly wished us to see everything worth observation, told us he really thought we should be entertained. To see anything of their manner one must be there on a Sunday […] Early the next morning we set out and got to Pudsey about ten. The situation is charming. […] As we ascended the hill their band of music struck up, and in my life I think I never was so charmed. It consists of organ, French horns, clarinets, and flutes, hautboys, and every kind of instrument, joyn’d by the most harmonious voices one ever heard. The congregation were just enter’d the chapel as we did, their men ranging themselves on forms at one side, the women on the other. They were extremely civil to us as strangers, seating us according to the above method. The clergyman at first got into the pulpit and read some sentences from a book which the people made responses to, and often sang in chorus, accompanied by the full band of music, which had an effect most amazingly fine indeed. After, the same man preach’d a sermon replete with incoherent nonsense, all extemporary; the text was “My Lord, and my God.” After the sermon the children are admitted, and not till then; they walk in two and two, and the clergyman being come down from the pulpit, they are placed before him on forms. They first sang very prettily; he afterwards talked to them near a quarter of an hour, but on subjects far above the comprehension of their tender years. After this they sang again, and then retired in the order they came, looking most beautifully, being most sweet children, and the dress of the female infants adding to their beauty. […] We were now told the service of the morning was over. […] We spent an hour in walking round and making all inquiries about this odd sect of people, and came away charmed with the situation and music, if but little edified with their religion.