of us a consenting offering; let us give this day largely, in a
spirit of self-sacrifice, as Christian men, to Christ our Lord, and
He will graciously accept and bless the offerings that we make'--the
preacher could little guess that among the lads who stood in the
aisle was one in whom was forming the purpose of offering his very
self also.

For at that time Coleridge Patteson was receiving impressions that
became the seed of his future purpose, and the eyes of his spirit
were seeing greater things than the Vicarage of Feniton. Indeed, the
subject was not entirely new to him, for Edward Coleridge was always
deeply interested in missions, and had done his best to spread the
like feeling, often employing the willing services of his pupils in
copying letters from Australia, Newfoundland, &c.

When the Bishop of New Zealand came to take leave, he said, half in
earnest, half in playfulness, 'Lady Patteson, will you give me
Coley?' She started, but did not say no; and when, independently of
this, her son told her that it was his greatest wish to go with the
Bishop, she replied that if he kept that wish when he grew up he
should have her blessing and consent.

But there was no further mention of the subject. The sisters knew
what had passed, but it was not spoken of to his father till long
after, when the wish had become purpose. Meantime the boy's natural
development put these visions into the background. He was going on
with ordinary work and play, enjoying the pageantry of the
christening of the Prince of Wales, and cheering himself hoarse and
half-frantic when the King of Prussia came to see the school; then on
his father's birthday writing with a 'hand quite trembling with