he
brighter, one dares to hope, for a lapse into the dreary ways of
bitterness.

This sadness is most apt to beset those who have anything to do with
the work of education. One feels sometimes, with a sudden shiver, as
when the shadow of a cloud passes over a sunlit garden, that many
elements are at work in a small society; that an evil secret is
spreading over lives that were peaceful and contented, that suspicion
and disunion and misunderstanding are springing up, like poisonous
weeds, in the quiet corner that God has given one to dress and keep.
Then perhaps one tries to put one's hand on what is amiss; sometimes
one does too much, and in the wrong way; one has not enough faith, one
dares not leave enough to God. Or from timidity or diffidence, or from
the base desire not to be troubled, from the poor hope that perhaps
things will straighten themselves out, one does too little; and that is
the worst shadow of all, the shadow of cowardice or sloth.

Sometimes, too, one has the grief of seeing a slow and subtle change
passing over the manner and face of one for whom one cares--not the
change of languor or physical weakness; that can be pityingly borne;
but one sees innocence withering, indifference to things wholesome and
fair creeping on, even sometimes a ripe and evil sort of beauty
maturing, such as comes of looking at evil unashamed, and seeing its
strong seductiveness. One feels instinctively that the door which had
been open before between such a soul and one's own spirit is being
slowly and firmly closed, or even, if one attempts to open it, pulled
to with a swift motion; and then one may hear sounds within, and even
see, in that moment, a rush of gliding forms, that makes one sure that
a visitant is there, who has brought with him a wicked company; and
then one has to wait in sadness, with now and then a timid knocking,
even happy, it may be, if the soul sometimes call fretfully within, to
say that it is occupied and cannot come forth.

But sometimes, God be praised, it is the other way. A year ago a man
came at his own request to see me. I hardly knew him; but I could see
at once that he was in the grip of some hard conflict, which withered
his natural bloom. I do not know how all came to be revealed; but in a
little while he was speaking with simple frankness and naturalness of
all his troubles, and they were many. What was the most touching thing
of all was that he spoke as if he were quite alone i