throwing a better spirit into the community where he labors. But this can be done only by being possessed entirely with the Spirit of God. Our power, our courage is from Him only, and we can't help seeing this in India.

[TO A NEPHEW, H. B. S.]

KODI KANAL, May 27, 1862. Don't think from the heading of this letter that I am an amphibious dog, spending a part of my life in a canal, or acting the part of the individual whose business it is to sing out, "Bridge! heads, gemmen!" Kânal is “grove," which alters the picture at once, and places me in a more romantic situation, one corresponding better with fact.

Your letter was welcome enough, showing me that I had not lost my uncleship by exiling myself out of all reach of you. . . . . It was a regular vacation epistle, a lazy, meandering, sunshiny, clever thing, but did not smack of the days when Virgil or Horace or Day must be whipped off, and room made for stationery. Send me another, clear from Berkshire, that shall be redolent of Flora's Glen, New (Boot-jack) Street, College Hydrant, and West College, if you want to stir the deeps in an old collegian's heart. Could n't you let out whether you are 'Logian or what was the name of that other across the way? But perhaps the old halls are deserted, and young Williams enjoys better accommodations.

You know, Harry, an old dog always talks or barks sagely, an old crab is forever telling his children. crabs not to crawl so one-sidedly; so I, looking back over my sprawling and hobbling career through college, feel terribly like taking you by the button, and reading

a little lesson to your innocence. But I suppose you will be a Soph by the time this reaches you, and be important enough in your own eyes at least not to need lecturing. However, take a leaf or two from my experience. Don't be afraid of fresh air and outdoor work. Gymnasium is good, but Northwest Hill is better. Don't think because you don't expect to be Astronomer Royal that calculus is of no use to you, or give up trying to be a good scholar because you did not have as good a "fit" in one thing as another. Don't lie by lazily because you don't need to study hard to get the lessons; the tortoise will be clawing your back if you don't persist in keeping ahead. Don't go fishing always inside the breakwater of tasks assigned, but go outside in rough sailing and look out for other fish. Take up some subject that you like and follow it up, finding out all you can about it — let it be the history of the Aztecs or the Pottawatomies. (I wish you would write me a treatise on Cromlechs, who built them, etc.) Read a little and eat the words; read not for quantity, but for quality. (A groan-"Oh that I had done so!" D. C. S.) "don't?") think that I mean to bother you any more. Let me wind up with one good do. Maintain the reputation, not of a race of Scudders, but of your heavenly Master. Guide your course in college by that thought, and you can't go far wrong.

Don't (What! another

[TO HIS FATHER.]

KODI KANAL, June 5, 1862.

Your abundant and always most excellent journals deserve more than a general journal reply, but I am unable to find time enough to answer as amply as I

could wish. To-day, though, you must of course have a letter all to yourself, for if I write common folk upon their birthdays, above all should I write you. It is a subject of personal rejoicing to me that you have fairly arrived at this landmark. As far back as I can remember, I have given as answer to persons who, wondering at your activity, have asked your age, seventy-three. To me you have stood stock-still for I don't know how long a time; if I could hope that it would be in future as in past, I should be glad to hold you still, but I fear that is impossible, so I rejoice that hereafter I shall have some confidence in pronouncing you seventy-three. It is a real pleasure to me to know that how many soever years you mark upon your calendar, you will to me continue where you were when I saw you last, and I can, must always think of you as the kind, cheerful father that I knew then.

This is a blue day to me; various circumstances have made me feel unhappy. I don't see, and never did see, where my gloominess and sulkiness and down-heartedness came from. Certainly not from either of you, and yet there is nothing that causes me so much grief. Dear father, a man whose heart was the abode of no one but the Holy Spirit, would be full of joy at the prospect before him in such a field as mine. Here are countless numbers who know nothing of the gospel, to whom the gospel is capable of imparting infinite good. It is in my power to give it to them, -nothing whatever hinders but time. I ought to leap at the thought of the opportunity, while, in fact, it is usually a hard trial for me to preach to the heathen. In our weekly prayer-meeting up here, which fell to

my charge this afternoon, I remarked on these words of Paul, “We also believe and therefore speak," and the others followed in the same strain. Belief is requisite to preaching, and according to the depth and firmness of our belief will be the fervency of our labors. Abundance to do, and nothing in the way but an unbelieving heart. In one week we go to the Plains again, and my prayer is, that I may have grace to overcome my natural diffidence, fear of man, and love of quiet ease, and be bold and untiring in preaching the truth.

To do what I ought, I must be away from home a great deal, in fact more than half the time. This in itself is hard for me and hard for H. She is alone then, sixteen miles from any one, and I am constantly solicitous lest some evil shall occur in my absence. I grow weary of being away in uncomfortable places, seeing nobody but poor heathen, and as I cannot be out in the daytime much, I have abundance of time for reverie. I must make some arrangement by which I can carry on my studies in my absence from home, and occupy my time fully. As mother knows, I am sure to be out of sorts if I am out of work. I do easily get tired of talking. I don't think that naturally I like to talk, except to boon companions on pet topics, and I need to rouse myself to converse on religion with everybody I meet. But all these difficulties may in time be overcome, if God's grace be but granted, and that is always procurable. I certainly am deeply interested in my work, and feel at times enthusiastic enough. I look forward to entering anew upon it, with really pleasurable anticipation. I am still tempted, however, to turn aside from legitimate labor to work at topics always interesting to me now, as they were at home, but

which are not of direct bearing upon my missionary work.

We have a pleasant household. Our headservant Savarimuttu is invaluable. His own father is cook. The two gardeners and the horse-keeper are all good friends of these two, and all moves on harmoniously. It seems a great number, but were you here, you would see the necessity. A common Yankee is worth three or four Hindûs. I don't wonder that you are happy in your old days in looking at what we purpose to be. What a singular feeling this of paternity is. How I look at little Julia and ponder over the subtle way in which her immortality is locked in with mine. I believe I have given her to the Lord, but there remains so much to do; the giving does not release me from responsibility, but binds me in it the more strongly. How you would delight to have another little granddaughter to play with. She is full of smiles, and as good as a child knows how to be. Oh, how I hope she will be a good girl!

[TO GEO. D. DUTTON, ESQ.]

KODI KANAL, June 12, 1862. I trust that the good people at home will not contract any extravagant notions as to the barbarousness of our surroundings. We are amongst heathen truly, and bad enough ones, still we are not outlawed from all comforts and conveniences. As we did not come out with the intention of making ourselves as uncomfortable as possible, we do not deem it out of place to take in a comfort when one happens along. I take it that the principle upon which a Christian missionary, as every Christian man, should act in life, is to place