This Good Man Left England Twenty-Five Years Ago, And
Lived For Twenty In One Of The Most Desolate Parts Of Newfoundland.
Yet he
has retained his vivid interest in England, and kept us up till a late
hour talking over its church and people.
Contented in his isolated
position, which is not without its severe hardships, this good missionary
pursues his useful course unnoticed by the world as it bustles along; his
sole earthly wish seems to be that he may return to England to die.
The next morning at seven we left his humble home, where such hospitality
had awaited us, and he accompanied us to the river. He returned to his
honourable work - I shortly afterwards went to the United States - another
of the party is with the Turkish army in the Crimea - and the youngest is
married in a distant land. For several hours we passed through lovely
scenery, on one of the loveliest mornings I ever saw. We stopped at the
hut of an old Highland woman, who was "terribly glad" to see us, and
gave us some milk; and we came up with a sturdy little barefooted urchin
of eight years old, carrying a basket. "What's your name?" we asked. "Mr.
Crazier," was the bold and complacent reply.
At noon we reached St. Eleanor's, rather a large village, where we met
with great hospitality for two days at the house of a keeper of a small
store, who had married the lively and accomplished daughter of an English
clergyman.
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