tops had come in with its clearer vision and truer hope.

He worked as well as rested and dreamed. He swung the cradle and the scythe. IIe loaded and unloaded the hay. He went after the horses and rode them up through the winding cow paths, and called the cows as he did when a bare-foot boy. He crawled under the barns and searched through haymows for nests where the faithful hens laid their eggs. He made coops for the recently hatched chickens and fed them meal. He followed the sly old turkeys to find where they made their nests. Now and then he would take the old gun and go out into the woods and bring back some squirrels or a wild turkey for the dinner of the hungry men. He dug the new potatoes, picked the peas, shelled them and gathered the corn and husked it, to assist his mother.

During these weeks his mind was busy with the problem of his life work. When he went to college, he had expected at the close of the course to study law. As time passed and he became interested in literature, he decided that some field that would give this talent sway must be his. He had

been for a time correspondent from the College to the paper in the neighboring city. During the summer he was offered a place to study law and with sufficient work to pay his way, the chair of assistant editor of an eastern paper, and a responsible position in business. Three things began to take shape in his thoughts as he wrestled with the future he must take into account the world's need, his own makeup, and the guidance of Providence.

Early in July he received a letter that complicated the question. It was from one of the professors of the College and enclosed a letter from a neighboring city. A man had started in a humble quarter of the city what he intended should be in time a great work for its inhabitants. The needs of the children, the women, and the men were eventually to be ministered to. He had only made a small beginning, when he was stricken with lung fever and died. The woman's letter plead that the professor should send some one to take up the work, for, she wrote, "there is no one here that cares for it, and, if some one does not come to help us, our boys and girls, our men, and even our women, will go to ruin.”

"When this letter came today," wrote the professor, "your address at commencement immediately came into my mind, and I send this touching appeal to you. I cannot decide what your duty is, but I know that you will consider it carefully. Our cities are already beginning to degenerate, and if something is not done, they will at last corrupt and destroy our Nation. The need is great and in addition to the good you will do in the field, you may attract the attention of the church to this growing need of missionary work."

Richard's first thought was of Kate as he read this letter. What would she think of such a step? He felt a sense of pain as the impression came to him that she would not be in sympathy with such a course. He had written her of his struggle in college and that he had come out in the clear faith and had made the motive of love his own. Her allusion to his change in her next letter had been brief. "Don't be foolish. You have a brilliant life before you. Do not throw it away. Remember I expect something of you." Could he, ought he, to take such a step in these circumstances?

Richard read the letter that night to his father and mother.

"I have expected something of this kind, though I did not know in what form it would come," said the father. His voice was tremulous with feeling, and Richard looked at him with surprise.

"Before you ever saw the light of this world," said his mother, "we had given you to God for service in the world, and when you were not yet an hour old your father took you in his arms and kneeling down by my bed gave you into His hands to use."

"I do not know that this is to be your work, but somewhere you are to be a messenger of God to men," said Mr. Harrison.

It was some time before Richard could speak. When he could sufficiently control his feelings he said, "This is a revelation to me. It puts a new meaning into my past life. It makes the future wonderfully sacred."

It was decided that Richard should visit the city and look over the field carefully and then return to decide.

One beautiful July morning he started for

the city. It was a drive of twenty miles and at dawn he was on his way. The morning air was clear and cool. The stars were one by one disappearing, frightened away by the giant sun. Rabbits were out along the road side for their morning walk. The squirrels were running upon the fences and calling among the trees. The birds were filling the air with song as they awoke and took up the duties of life. On the bushes in the corner of the fences the raspberries were turning black. The orchards hung low with the heavy crop of growing fruit. It seemed to Richard that the world was full of peace and joy and fruitfulness.

The change came soon enough. The contrast from such a morning in the country to the heat and dirt, the noise and vice of the streets near the mission rooms was keenly realized. Already men were drinking and cursing in the saloons. Young men stood upon the corners evidently in idleness, and with the signs of dissipation plainly marked upon their faces. Children were playing in the filth and in and out of the saloons and were repeating in their play the oaths they heard from the men. The homes gave evi