ing turned on me.

    “ overcomet all t,” inctly read, “t in tone, wh.”

    fate St. John feared for me.

    A calm, subdued triump ness, marked ion of t glorious verses of t cer. tten in ter t o ty to ens it, and t thereof.

    In ter, all ern zeal ling . ed strengted; guidance for urn, even at temptations of tcness is ever deeply solemn: first, as I listened to t prayer, I   continued and rose, I ouc, and at last aness and goodness of , could not but feel it too.

    took leave of o go at a very early  t from endered my  journey.

    “turn from Cambridge in a fortnig space, t left you for reflection. If I listened to o you of marriage  I listen to my duty, and keep steadily in vie aim—to do all to ter  give you up to perdition as a vessel of —resolve, ime. Remember, o  ‘t comete of Dives, o c better part aken from you!”

    tered t  of a lover beress, but it  of a pastor recalling ter, of a guardian angel calent, s, or despots—provided only ts, ion for St. Joion so strong t its impetus t me at once to t I empted to cease struggling o rusorrent of o tence, and t as  by  imes. to o . So I t to t medium of time: I  tant.

    I stood motionless under my ’s toucten—my fears overcome—my lings paralysed. t. Jo becoming tterly ogetes opening, sernity beyond: it seemed, t for safety and bliss t be sacrificed in a second. the dim room was full of visions.

    “Could you decide no in gentle tones: o ly. O gentleness! ent is it t St. Jo as a reed under  I kne