oved my work, my home, and my wife passionately. I had the
confidence and esteem of my people, and thought I was as happy as I
could be this side [of] heaven. One day there came a letter from the
Wesleyan Mission Rooms in London, asking if I would go out as a
missionary to the West Indies. Without consideration, and without
making it a matter of prayer, I at once sent back a positive refusal.

"From that day," he continued, "everything went wrong with me. Heaven's
smile seemed to have left me. I lost my grip upon my people. My
influence for good over them left me, I could not tell how. My once
happy home was blasted, and in all my trouble I got no sympathy from my
Church or in the community. I had to resign my position, and leave the
place. I fell into darkness, and lost my hold upon God. A few years
ago I came out to this country. God has restored me to the light of His
countenance. The Church has been very sympathetic and indulgent. For
years I have been permitted to labour in her fold, and for this I
rejoice. But," he added, with emphasis, "I long ago came to the resolve
that if ever the Church asked me to go to the West Indies, or to any
other Mission field, I would be careful about sending back an abrupt
refusal."

I pondered over his words and his experience, and talked about them with
my good wife, and we decided to go. Our loving friends were startled at
our resolve, but soon gave us their benedictions, united to tangible
evidences of their regard. A blessed peace filled our souls, and we
longed to be away and at work in the new field which had so suddenly
opened before us.

"Yes, we will go. We may no longer doubt
To give up friends, and home, and every tie,
That binds our heart to thee, our country.
Henceforth, then,
It matters not if storms or sunshine be
Our earthly lot, bitter or sweet our cup.
We only pray, God fit us for the work,
God make us holy, and our spirits nerve
For the stern hour of strife. Let us but know
There is an Arm unseen that holds us up,
An Eye that kindly watches all our path,
Till we our weary pilgrimage have done.
Let us but know we have a Friend that waits
To welcome us to glory, and we joy
To tread that drear and northern wilderness."

The grand valedictory services were held in the old Richmond Street
Church, Toronto, Thursday, May 7th, 1868. The church was crowded, and
the enthusiasm was very great. The honoured President