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"No, I cannot stay; I have only brought you a little parcel my sisters left for you. I think it contains a colour-box, pencils, and paper."

I approached to take it: a welcome gift it was. He examined my face, I thought, with austerity, as I came near: the traces of tears were doubtless very visible upon it.

"Have you found your first day's work harder than you expected?" he asked.

"Oh, no! On the contrary, I think in time I shall get on with my scholars very well."

"But perhaps your accommodations-your cottage-your furniture-have disappointed your expectations? They are, in truth, scanty enough; but-" I interrupted-

"My cottage is clean and weather-proof; my furniture sufficient and commodious.

All I see has made me thankful, not despondent.

I am not absolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret the absence of a carpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeks ago I had nothing-I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now I have acquaintance, a home, a business.

I wonder at the goodness of God; the generosity of my friends; the bounty of my lot.

I do not repine."

"But you feel solitude an oppression? The little house there behind you is dark and empty."

"I have hardly had time yet to enjoy a sense of tranquillity, much less to grow impatient under one of loneliness."

"Very well; I hope you feel the content you express: at any rate, your good sense will tell you that it is too soon yet to yield to the vacillating fears of Lot's wife.

What you had left before I saw you, of course I do not know; but I counsel you to resist firmly every temptation which would incline you to look back: pursue your present career steadily, for some months at least."

"It is what I mean to do," I answered. St. John continued-

"It is hard work to control the workings of inclination and turn the bent of nature; but that it may be done, I know from experience.

God has given us, in a measure, the power to make our own fate; and when our energies seem to demand a sustenance they cannot get-when our will strains after a path we may not follow-we need neither starve from inanition, nor stand still in despair: we have but to seek another nourishment for the mind, as strong as the forbidden food it longed to taste-and perhaps purer; and to hew out for the adventurous foot a road as direct and broad as the one Fortune has blocked up against us, if rougher than it.

"A year ago I was myself intensely miserable, because I thought I had made a mistake in entering the ministry: its uniform duties wearied me to death.

I burnt for the more active life of the world-for the more exciting toils of a literary career-for the destiny of an artist, author, orator; anything rather than that of a priest: yes, the heart of a politician, of a soldier, of a votary of glory, a lover of renown, a luster after power, beat under my curate's surplice.

I considered; my life was so wretched, it must be changed, or I must die.

After a season of darkness and struggling, light broke and relief fell: my cramped existence all at once spread out to a plain without bounds-my powers heard a call from heaven to rise, gather their full strength, spread their wings, and mount beyond ken.

God had an errand for me; to bear which afar, to deliver it well, skill and strength, courage and eloquence, the best qualifications of soldier, statesman, and orator, were all needed: for these all centre in the good missionary.

"A missionary I resolved to be.

From that moment my state of mind changed; the fetters dissolved and dropped from every faculty, leaving nothing of bondage but its galling soreness-which time only can heal.

My father, indeed, imposed the determination, but since his death, I have not a legitimate obstacle to contend with; some affairs settled, a successor for Morton provided, an entanglement or two of the feelings broken through or cut asunder-a last conflict with human weakness, in which I know I shall overcome, because I have vowed that I will overcome-and I leave Europe for the East."

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