sister of mine. She's grown up now and married, and settled at St.
Columb. This is wonderful! And how was Israel wearing when you saw
him?'

"'You have later news of him than I can give. I am speaking of ten
years ago.'

"His face fell pathetically; but he contrived a rueful little laugh
as he answered: 'And I must have been a boy of nine at the time, and
playing about Portissick Street, no doubt! Never mind. It's good,
anyway, to speak of home to you; for you've _seen_ it, you know!'

"He said this with his eyes fixed on the flashing mountain; and, as
he finished, he sighed."


"During the next three or four days--for a relapse followed his
rally, and he had to give up all thought of departing immediately--I
talked much with the Bishop; and I think that each talk added to my
respect and wonder. In the first place, though I had read in a good
many poetry books of maidens who walked through all manner of
deadliness unhurt--Una and the lion, you know, and the rest of them--
I hadn't imagined that kind or amount of innocence in a young man.
But what startled me even more was the size of his ambitions.
'Bishop'--_in partibus infidelium_ with a vengeance--was too small a
title for him. 'Twas a Peter the Hermit's part, or a Savonarola's,
or Whitefield's at least, he was going to play all along the Pacific
Slope; and his outfit no more than a small Bible and the strength of
a mouse. And with all this the poor boy was just wearying for home,
and every small fibre in his sick heart pulling him back while he