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 go and work in some more congenial soil; or else that I
would preach a set of sermons on the subject of schism, for perhaps I
had not sufficiently taught my people the danger of this great sin!

Every parishioner I passed seemed to look at me as if he said, "So much
for your teaching! You will never convince us!"


CHAPTER 7

Conversion, 1851.