men, wise
and learned, who professed to stand so near the throne eternal, who were so anxious for the heathen. I led and fed and watered and groomed their horses. I watched while they slept, spread their blankets beneath the trees on the dry soil, folded and packed them, headed the gorges, shunned the chaparral and bore on my own shoulders all the toils, and took on my own breast all the dangers of [the day. I found them the most sour, selfish, and ungrateful wretches on earth. But I led them to the summit two of them only panting, blowing, groaning at every step. The others had sat down on blocks of ice and snow below. These two did not remain a moment. They did not even lift their eyes to the glory that lay to the right or to the left. What to them was the far faint line of the sea to the west ; the long white lakes that looked like snow drifts, a hundred miles away to the east? Had they not been on the summit ? Had they not said a prayer and left tracts there? Could they not have that to say, to report, to write about ? Was all this not enough ?
Hastily, indeed, they muttered something, hur riedly drew some tracts from their pockets, brought far away into this wilderness by these wise, good men, for the benighted heathen, then turned as if afraid to stay, and retraced their steps.
I hated these men, so manifestly unfit for any thing like a Christian act despised them, not their books or their professed work. When I
