han my life and for whom I would have died. The
first warm friendships of youth are the purest and whitest flowers that
bloom in the soul. If these are blighted, it is forever. Such flowers in
any one life can never grow again.

"And this brings me to that sad day when on the play-ground Ray struck
at me, and through me at my dear, loving mother. As he spoke those cruel
words the world grew dark about me, the dread fear which I had subdued
revived with tenfold power, and upon my heart came the pangs of an
indescribable anguish. Oh, the chill, the death-like chill, that froze
the current of my affections as I saw the faces of those I loved
averted!

"I went to my room and tried to reflect, but I could not. The shock was
too great. During the week that followed I was most of the time in my
silent room. I may well call it silent, for the footsteps to which I had
been accustomed came no more, and the comrades in whose friendship I had
such delight no longer sought my company. That dreadful week was the
turning-point in my life. As it drew toward its close I realized to some
extent what I had been through, as one does who is recovering from a
severe illness. I knew that day and night I had wept and moaned and
could see no hope, no ray of light, and that I had at times forgotten my
religion and blasphemed. It is true, my dear friend, that I mocked my
God. Do not judge me hastily in this. I was without discipline or
experience, and I saw that for all sorrow except mine there was a
remedy. Even for sin there is repentance and redemption, and the pains
of hell itself may be avoided. But for my trouble there could be no
relief. The thought that I was accursed from the day of my birth, that
no effort, no sacrifice, no act of heroism, on my part could ever redeem
me, haunted my soul, and I knew that it must haunt me from that time
onward and forever.

"I need hardly tell you, with your insight and knowledge, that these
inward struggles led toward a not unusual conclusion. I allude to the
determination to which multitudes of souls have been driven in all ages,
to escape the tortures of disgrace. I turned away from humanity and
sought that fearful desert of individual loneliness and isolation which
is now more sad and real to me than any outward object can be. To live
in the voiceless solitude and tread the barren sands unfriended is too
much for a strong man with all the aids that philosophy can give him.
But when we see one in t