instincts of purity and spirituality, his noble dissatisfaction with trivial and unworthy pursuits, were, no doubt, greater helpers than he reckoned them. It was a characteristic of his whole life to underrate the motives of his conduct. For his undoubted self-assertion and occasional apparent egotism he made full atonement by an ever-present central modesty that nourished his character at its roots, and made him deal more sternly with himself than others could possibly deal with him. His dislike of farm-work drove him to shoe-making. But his recollections of that quiet, thoughtful occupation were never pleasant. He had a grudge against the time he spent at it as so much time lost, that might have been spent in the pursuit of knowledge. But he made friends at this time whom he never afterward failed to appreciate; and who shall say that this occupation did not foster, through its opportunities for meditation, a longing for that larger life from which he afterward looked back on it with indignation?

He was always a good scholar and stood well in the winter schools, where also he had the same dislike of regular tasks that characterized his physical activity. It was not till he was about eighteen that he began to struggle for a liberal education. Before this he went to school for a short time at Medfield; and a letter now before me of that date would recall to many a boy his first school days away from home, the first dangerous conceit of knowledge, the arrival of the box from home with a mother's love well stitched and ironed into the humble wardrobe, a father's thoughtfulness taking the shape of apples and the indispensable, too little valued, and too evanescent dollars. The real start was at the Normal School at Westfield, whither he went, through the persistent and disinterested efforts of

his brother Carlton, in August, 1848, with a view to prepare himself for teaching. Once there, his desire for culture increased rapidly, and he made rapid progress. At the close of his first term he taught a winter school at Uxbridge, and afterward went back again. On entering the school, he began to keep a journal, and with various intermissions continued doing so until his death. For the most part the intermissions correspond with terms of physical depression, or with periods of unsatisfactory work. When the journal is kept at all it is kept honestly. Nothing is written with the ulterior view of having it one day come to light. It begins meagerly and superficially enough, but soon broadens and deepens. The first series of entries only lasts about ten days and ends with a "Normal walk," preceded by “a feast of water-melons," the whole affair being recorded as "the best kind of a time."

But what is the meaning of the next entry? The date of it is October 8th, 1849. A change has come over the spirit of his dream. He has experienced religion! Painfully amusing are the entries in his journal and the letters home for the few months following. They make one's cheeks burn with shame for the dear boy, and with righteous indignation at the system that could instill such morbid fancies and hypocrisies into a fresh young heart. Here are a few samples of the "perilous stuff" that he indulged in at this interesting period :

"Friday, October 5th, 1849.—I have now in contemplation the unworthiness of such a sinful creature as myself, for now that my Heavenly Father has forgiven my sins, I have sinned once more against his holy name. This day I have done a lit

tle of something to save souls."

66

Wednesday, October 10th.-I find it hard to resist the

devil that he may flee from me. He has so long had dominion over me that to prepare my heart for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit is hard.”

"Monday, 15th.-O my unbelief! I am so prone to sin; I have such a wicked heart that I can not lay hold of the promises of God as I ought. I am considering the propriety of

joining the church.”

"Tuesday, 23d.-I am nothing in the sight of God. My heart is so desperately wicked that my mind is continually wandering away from him."

"Friday, November 2d.-I have neglected writing in my memoranda on account of many doubtful and dark moments. Next Sabbath I expect to be baptized in the name of my glorious Redeemer."

“March 24th, 1850.—I almost shrink from the idea of placing my thoughts and feelings on paper, and well I may, for more than three months have elapsed since I last performed this useful and interesting ceremony. [Ceremony indeed! What has become of the fresh-hearted boy we knew a year ago?] And during this time God only knows the amount of my sins. I am not deserving the name of Christian. I have backslidden indeed. My closet duties are neglected. I can not enumerate the amount or tell the enormity of my sins. I will if possible form stronger resolutions and nobler determinations.

Appended to this entry are six resolutions. They begin drearily enough, but get better as they go on:

"Resolved, First. To read at least one chapter in the Bible every day; beginning at the book of Genesis, and so on in order. Also [naughty suspicion of the unprofitableness of certain genealogies and imprecations] to read other chapters more peculiarly suited to my feelings."

The second and third resolves are in the cloud-region of

pietism; in the fourth he comes down to the solid earth, and keeps there till the end:

"Fourth. Never to feel proud.

"Fifth. Never to tell what I have done, or to quote myself as good authority.

“Sixth. To refrain from unnecessary conversation."

And here the journal stops again, and is not resumed until the life at Westfield is all over. In this last entry the reader will perceive many tokens of returning health and sanity. Nothing had been written for some time before and nothing was written for some time after. But for about a year he kept up this "big play-actorism under God's earnest sky." Yet it was not all acting. Most of the thoughts, the very words in fact, that disfigure his journal and letters at this time, are the mere cant of the revivalist; but in the midst of all this rubbish there are many signs of such an honest personal religion as a boy may have without shame at the time or ever after. Among these are his fifth and sixth resolves, and such bits as where he says, "May I spend this day right at the feet of Jesus, and not be proud or try to show off before people." Do not these italics point at a real palpable devil, a devil with whom Augustus Staples had many a -drawn battle before he had him fairly underneath his heel?

The letters of this period are even more painful than the journals, they are so unreal, so unlike what a noble young man's letters are, when he is not the victim of a false religiousWhat shall we say of the system that will permit— nay, even encourage a young man to write in this strain to his parents? The date is November 7th, 1849.

ness.

"I have one word to write, one simple request to make, and

that is that you will consider the anxiety I must experience in regard to your spiritual welfare. Believing, as I do, that those who do not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ will surely be cast out from the presence of God for ever, and it being my determination to stand at that great day at the right hand of God, can I see you thus separated from me for ever?" And so on ad nauseam.

"When I come home (if it should be the good pleasure of the Almighty to permit me once more to return), it would be very pleasing to me to have devotional exercises in the family, if there is no objection."

When he got home he read his answer and rebuke in his father's clear and earnest eyes, and no more was said about it. One can imagine the sad. smile with which the father read these juvenile lucubrations.

66 In your last letter it was stated that I had better not join the church, for fear that when I come home I might feel differently. Now this was the very reason why I wished to join, to prevent my ever thinking or feeling different."

And so the matter was now "settled," not, as he hopes, without due consideration, and his name "is now enrolled with those who are ready to die in Jesus's war." But many things that are considered "settled" get sadly unsettled in this jostling world, and young Staples found that even the snug inclosure of a church is no sure preventive against "ever thinking or feeling different;" that it was very much as his father had suggested it might be, and couldn't have been much more so if he had never joined the church at all. For no sooner did he get safe home again, than things began to take on quite a different appearance. In comparison with the love and rectitude and self