at any rate, your good sense ell you t it is too soon yet to yield to ting fears of Lot’s  kno I counsel you to resist firmly every temptation  career steadily, for some mont least.”

    “It is o do,” I ans. Joinued—

    “It is o control tion and turn t of nature; but t it may be done, I knoe; and enance t get—er a pat folloarve from inanition, nor stand still in despair: o seek anot for trong as t longed to taste—and pero  for turous foot a road as direct and broad as tune  us, if roug.

    “A year ago I ensely miserable, because I t I ake in entering try: its uniform duties o deat for tive life of ting toils of a literary career—for tiny of an artist, autor; anyt of a priest: yes, t of a politician, of a soldier, of a votary of glory, a lover of renoer after po under my curate’s surplice. I considered; my life c must be c die. After a season of darkness and struggling, ligence all at once spread out to a plain  bounds—my porengt beyond ken. God o bear  rengt qualifications of soldier, statesman, and orator, re in the good missionary.

    “A missionary I resolved to be. From t moment my state of mind cters dissolved and dropped from every faculty, leaving not its galling soreness—ion, but since  a legitimate obstacle to contend tled, a successor for Morton provided, an entanglement or t asunder—a last conflict  I .”

    empic voice; looking,  me, but at tting sun, at oo t. e ep on t grass-grorack; ter running in t art w as a silver bell, exclaimed—

    “Go