er sought with eyes and heart,
Yet caught the glory but in part;

"So Calvin opened wide his soul,
Yet could not comprehend the whole:

"Not Luther, Calvin, Augustine,
Saw half the vision I have seen!"

--Then grew within me a desire
That kindled like a flame of fire.

I looked upon his reverent brow,
Entreating, "Tell me, who art thou?"

When, by the light that filled the place,
I knew it was the Lord's own face!

Through all my blood a rapture stole
That filled my body and my soul.

I was a sinner and afraid:
I bowed me in the dust and prayed:--

"O Christ the Lord I end Thou my search,
And lead me to the one true church!"

Then spake He, not as man may speak:
"The one true church thou shalt not seek;

"Behold, it is enough," He said,
"To find the one true Christ, its Head!"

Then straight He vanished from my sight,
And left me standing in the light.

UNDER THE PEAR-TREE.

PART II.

CHAPTER IV.

Two years passed; and Swan Day was to all appearance no nearer his
return to the land of his birth than when he first trod the deck that
bore him away from it. He was still on the first round of the high
ladder to fortune. Thus far he had wrought diligently and successfully.
He had been sent hither and thither: from Canton to Hong-Kong; from
Macao to Ningpo and Shanghai. He was clerk, supercargo, anything that
the interest of the Company demanded. He worked with a will. His
thoughts were full of tea, silks, and lacquered ware,--of exquisite
carved ivory and wonderful porcelains,--of bamboos, umbrellas, and
garden-chairs,--of Hong-Hi, Ching-Ho, and Fi-Fo-Fum.

There were moments, between the despatch of one vessel and the lading of
another, when his mind would follow the sun, as it blazed along down out
of sight of China, and fast on its way towards the Fox farm,--when an
intense longing seized him to look once again on the shady nest of all
his hopes and labors. He hated the life he led. He hated the noisy
Tartar women that surrounded him,--aquatic and disgusting as
crawfish,--brown, stupid, and leering. He hated the feline yawling of
their music. He hated the yellow water, swarming with boats, and settled
with junks. He hated their pagodas, and their hideous effigies of their
ancestors, looking like dumb idols. Their bejewelled Buddhas, their
incense-lamps, their night and day, were alike odious to him.

Stretched on a bamboo chair, in an inte