orning, he came to me and after a short conversation,
informed me that business would require his absence for two or three
days, and that he would give me a task to employ me during the short
time he should be gone. He then put into my hand a work on the
Sacrament. "This," said he, "I am sure you will read with particular
attention, so that on my return I may invite you to the feast." I
trembled as I opened the book, "Fear not, Mr Mildmay," said he; "I tell
you, from what I see of your symptoms, that the cure will be complete."

Having said this, he gave me his blessing, and departed. He returned
exactly at the end of three days, and after a short examination, said he
would allow me to receive the Sacrament, and that the holy ceremony
should take place in his own room privately, well knowing how much
affected I should be. He brought in the bread and wine; and having
consecrated and partaken of them himself, agreeably to the forms
prescribed, he made a short extempore prayer in my behalf.

When he had done this, he advanced towards me, and presented the bread.
My blood curdled as I took it in my mouth; and when I had tasted the
wine, the type of the blood of that Saviour whose wounds I had so often
opened afresh in my guilty career, and yet upon the merits of which I
now relied for pardon, I felt a combined sensation of love, gratitude,
and joy a lightness and buoyancy of spirits, as if I could have left the
earth below me, disburthened of a weight that had, till then, crushed me
to the ground. I felt that I had faith--that I was a new man--and that
my sins were forgiven; and, dropping my head on the side of the table, I
remained some minutes in grateful and fervent prayer.

The service being ended, I hastened to express my acknowledgments to my
venerable friend.

"I am but the humble instrument, my dear young friend," said the bishop;
"let us both give thanks to the Almighty Searcher of hearts. Let us
hope that the work is perfect--for then you will be the occasion of `joy
in heaven.' And now," continued he, "let me ask you one question. Do
you feel in that state of mind that you could bear any affliction which
might befall you, without repining?"

"I trust, sir," answered I, "that I could bear it, not only cheerfully,
but thankfully; and I now acknowledge that it is good for me that I have
been in trouble."

"Then all is right," said he; "and with such feelings I may venture to
give you this letter, whic