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