oil painting from picture

permanently to his happiness or hers. I saw he was of the material
from which nature hews her heroes- Christian and Pagan- her lawgivers,
her statesmen, her conquerors: a steadfast bulwark for great interests
to rest upon; but, at the fireside, too often a cold cumbrous
column, gloomy and out of place.
'This parlour is not his sphere,' I reflected: 'the Himalayan ridge
or Caffre bush, even the plague-cursed Guinea Coast swamp would suit
him better. Well may he eschew the calm of domestic life; it is not
his element: there his faculties stagnate- they cannot develop or
appear to advantage. It is in scenes of strife and danger- where
courage is proved, and energy exercised, and fortitude tasked- that he
will speak and move, the leader and superior. A merry child would have
the advantage of him on this hearth. He is right to choose a
missionary's career- I see it now.'
'They are coming! they are coming!' cried Hannah, throwing open the
parlour door. At the same moment old Carlo barked joyfully. Out I ran.
It was now dark; but a rumbling of wheels was audible. Hannah soon had
a lantern lit. The vehicle had stopped at the wicket; the driver