was then building; and now, in order to divert my thoughts, I made up my
mind to go to him at once. Soon after my arrival, as we were seated
comfortably by the fire, he asked me (as he very commonly did) how the
parish prospered. He said, "I often take shame to myself when I think of
all your work. But, my brother, are you satisfied?"

I said, "No, I am not satisfied."*

"Why not?"

"Because I am making a rope of sand, which looks very well till I pull,
and then, when I expect it to hold, it gives way."

"What do you mean?"

"Why," I replied, "these Cornish people are ingrained schismatics."

I then told him of my gardener's conversion, and my great
disappointment.

"Well," he said, "if I were taken ill, I certainly would not send for
you. I am sure you could not do me any good, for you are not converted
yourself."

"Not converted!" I exclaimed. "How can you tell?"

He said, quietly, "I am sure of it, or you would not have come here to
complain of your gardener. If you had been converted, you would have
remained at home to rejoice with him. It is very clear you are not
converted!"