ion. He was brought under deep conviction of sin, and eventually
found peace through the precious blood of Jesus.

Immediately it spread all over the parish that "the parson's servant was
converted." The news soon reached me, but, instead of giving joy,
brought the most bitter disappointment and sorrow to my heart. Such was
the profound ignorance I was in!

The poor man sent for me several times, but I could not make up my mind
to go near him. I felt far too much hurt to think that after all I had
taught him against schism, he should fall into so great an error.
However, he sent again and again, till at last his entreaties prevailed,
and I went. Instead of lying on his bed, a dying man, as I expected to
find him, he was walking about the room in a most joyful and ecstatic
state. "Oh, dear master!" he exclaimed, "I am so glad you are come! I am
so happy! My soul is saved, glory be to God!" "Come, John," I said, "sit
down and be quiet, and I will have a talk with you, and tell you what I
think." But John knew my thoughts quite well enough, so he burst out,
"Oh master! I am sure you do not know about this, or you would have told
me. I am quite sure you love me, and I love you--that I do! but, dear
master, you do not know this--I am praying for the Lord to show it to
you. I mean to pray till I die, and after that if I can, till you are
converted." He looked at me so lovingly, and seemed so truly happy, that
it was more than I could stand. Almost involuntarily, I made for the
door, and escaped before he could stop me.

I went home greatly disturbed in my mind--altogether disappointed and
disgusted with my work among these Cornish people. "It is no use; they
never will be Churchmen!" I was as hopeless and miserable as I could be.
I felt that my superior teaching and practice had failed, and that the
inferior and, as I believed, unscriptural dogmas had prevailed. My
favourite and most promising Churchman had fallen, and was happy in his
fall; more than that, he was actually praying that I might fall too!

I felt very jealous for the Church, and therefore felt deeply the
conversion of my gardener. Like the elder brother of the Prodigal Son, I
was grieved, and even angry, because he was restored to favour and joy.
The remonstrance of the father prevailed nothing to mollify his
feelings; in like manner, nothing seemed to give me any rest in this
crisis of my parochial work. I thought I would give up my parish and
church, and g