he was ill and
could do nothing; the third the same; and when he was dismissed by the
bishop he was in a state akin to despair.

The next examination was better, but he was nervous, and found his
mind at times a hopeless blank. He passed, but not in such a way as he
desired. At the examination for priest's orders he came out at the top
of the list.

The first portion of his life as a curate did not seem to point to his
making any mark upon his Devonshire flock. His audiences were sleepy,
and paid little attention to his sermons.

One day he got lost on Exmoor in trying to make a short cut to a place
where he was to conduct service. He was consequently late in arriving,
and found the congregation waiting. On explaining why he was late to
the clerk:--

"Iss," said that official, "we reckoned you was lost, but now you are
here go and put on your surples and be short, for we all want to get
back to dinner". Truly he was no Wesley in those days!

But to him, as to every true-hearted seeker, light came at last. Not
long afterwards he could write, "I know now that Jesus Christ died for
me, and that He is mine and I am His".

After little more than a year in Devonshire, Hannington was appointed
curate in charge of St. George's, Hurstpierpoint, near Brighton. By
his earnestness he roused the people to a fuller faith and to better
works. Finding much drunkenness in the place he turned teetotaler, and
persuaded many to sign the pledge. He started Bible classes, prayer
meetings, and mothers' meetings. Not only was he a shining light in
his own parish, but he also went about the country and assisted at
revival missions, showing himself everywhere a bright and helpful
minister of the Gospel.

In the year 1878 Hannington heard of the violent deaths which had
befallen Lieut. Shergold Smith and Mr. O'Neil in Central Africa. From
this time he became drawn towards mission work in that district.

It was not, however, till the year 1882 that he finally entered into
arrangements with the Church Missionary Society to go to Africa.

Their high estimation of his capacities may be gathered from the fact
that he was appointed as leader of the expedition which was being sent
out.

It was a horrible wrench at last to leave wife and children. "My most
bitter trial," he writes--"an agony that still cleaves to me--was
saying good-bye to the little ones. Thank God the pain was all on one
side. 'Come back soon, papa!' they cried." His wife