a great lesson. The soul cannot be ministered to till the stomach is
appeased. His lambs must be fed bread and butter and potatoes and
meat; after that, and only after that, are their spirits ready for more
refined nourishment."

He ate heartily of the supper I cooked. Never had he had such an
appetite at our table in the old days. We spoke of it, and he said that
he had never been so healthy in his life.

"I walk always now," he said, and a blush was on his cheek at the
thought of the time when he rode in his carriage, as though it were a
sin not lightly to be laid.

"My health is better for it," he added hastily. "And I am very
happy--indeed, most happy. At last I am a consecrated spirit."

And yet there was in his face a permanent pain, the pain of the world
that he was now taking to himself. He was seeing life in the raw, and it
was a different life from what he had known within the printed books of
his library.

"And you are responsible for all this, young man," he said directly to
Ernest.

Ernest was embarrassed and awkward.

"I--I warned you," he faltered.

"No, you misunderstand," the Bishop answered. "I speak not in reproach,
but in gratitude. I have you to thank for showing me my path. You led me