“’It’s no use fixing me down, my dear, to any quiet, respectable calling,’ says Joe to the gal, ’because, even if the police would let me alone, I wouldn’t be able to stop there.  I’d break out, sooner or later, try as I might.’

“The girl went to her master, who seems to have been an odd sort of a cove, and told him the whole story.  The old gent said he’d see Joe, and Joe called on him.

“‘What’s your religion?’ says the old gent to Joe.

“‘I’m not particular, sir; I’ll leave it to you,’ says Joe.

“‘Good!’ says the old gent.  ’You’re no fanatic.  What are your principles?’

“At first Joe didn’t think he’d got any, but, the old gent leading, he found to his surprise as he had.

“‘I believe,’ says Joe, ‘in doing a job thoroughly.’

“’What your hand finds to do, you believe in doing with all your might, eh?’ says the old gent.

“‘That’s it, sir,’ says Joe.  ‘That’s what I’ve always tried to do.’

“‘Anything else?’ asks the old gent.

“‘Yes; stick to your pals,’ said Joe.

“‘Through thick and thin,’ suggests the old gent.

“‘To the blooming end,’ agrees Joe.

“‘That’s right,’ says the old gent.  ’Faithful unto death.  And you really want to turn over a new leaf—­to put your wits and your energy and your courage to good use instead of bad?’

“‘That’s the idea,’ says Joe.

“The old gent murmurs something to himself about a stone which the builders wouldn’t have at any price; and then he turns and puts it straight: 

“‘If you undertake the work,’ says he, ’you’ll go through with it without faltering—­you’ll devote your life to it?’

“‘If I undertake the job, I’ll do that,’ says Joe.  ‘What may it be?’

“‘To go to Africa,’ says the old gent, ‘as a missionary.’

“Joe sits down and stares at the old gent, and the old gent looks him back.

“‘It’s a dangerous station,’ says the old gent.  ’Two of our people have lost their lives there.  It wants a man there—­a man who will do something besides preach, who will save these poor people we have gathered together there from being scattered and lost, who will be their champion, their protector, their friend.’

“In the end, Joe took on the job, and went out with his wife.  A better missionary that Society never had and never wanted.  I read one of his early reports home; and if the others were anything like it his life must have been exciting enough, even for him.  His station was a small island of civilisation, as one may say, in the middle of a sea of savages.  Before he had been there a month the place had been attacked twice.  On the first occasion Joe’s ‘flock’ had crowded into the Mission House, and commenced to pray, that having been the plan of defence adopted by his predecessor.  Joe cut the prayer short, and preached to them from the text, ‘Heaven helps them as helps themselves’;