had heard from soldiers staying in the Keppel Street Mission House, who from Aldershot had visited Malford Abbey, the mother house of the Order.  The alternative to Malford was Clere Abbey on the Berkshire downs where Dom Cuthbert Manners ruled over a small community of strict Benedictines.  Had Mark really been convinced that he was likely to remain a monk for the rest of his life, he would have chosen the Benedictines; but he did not feel justified in presenting himself for admission to Clere on what would seem impulse.  He hoped that if he was accepted by the Order of St. George he should be given an opportunity to work at one of the priories in Aldershot or Sandgate, and that the experience he might expect to gain would help him later as a parish priest.  He could not confide in the Rector his reason for wanting to subject himself to monastic discipline, and he expected a good deal of opposition.  It might be better to write from whatever village he stayed in to-night and make the announcement without going back at all.  And this is what in the end he decided to do.

     The Sun Inn,

     Ladingford.

     June 24.

     My dear Rector,

I expect you gathered from our talk the day before yesterday that I was feeling dissatisfied with myself, and you must know that the problem of occupying my time wisely before I am ordained has lately been on my mind.  I don’t feel that I could honestly take up a profession to which I had no intention of sticking, and though Father Rowley recommended me to stay at home and work with the village people I don’t feel capable of doing that yet.  If it was a question of helping you by taking off your shoulders work that I could do it would be another matter.  But you’ve often said to me that you had more time on your hands than you cared for since you gave up coaching me for an Oxford scholarship, and so I don’t think I’m wrong in supposing that you would find it hard to discover for me any parochial routine work.  I’m not old enough yet to fish for souls, and I have no confidence in my ability to hook them.  Besides, I think it would bore you if I started “missionizing” in Wych-on-the-Wold.

I’ve settled therefore to try to get into the Order of St. George.  I don’t think you know Father Burrowes personally, but I’ve always heard that he does a splendid work among soldiers, and I’m hoping that he will accept me as a novice.

Latterly, in fact since I left Chatsea, I’ve been feeling the need of a regular existence, and, though I cannot pretend that I have a vocation for the monastic life in the highest sense, I do feel that I have a vocation for the Order of St. George.  You will wonder why I have not mentioned this to you, but the fact is—­and I hope you’ll appreciate my frankness—­I did not think of the O.S.G. till this morning.  Of course they may refuse to have me.  But I shall present myself without a preliminary letter, and