s a victory of
spiritual force, of character, of large-heartedness; the man himself was
the embodiment of his message, and through his forceful genius his
message was effective. He visibly represented the New Way; the way of
the humane and the divine, transforming the destructive instinct of
self-assertion. He visibly represented the divine and the immortal in
us, the new birth from above.

Yet there were tragedies in his apostolate. In another letter a very
vivid and pathetic account is given of one of these. Coroticus, a
chieftain of Britain, and therefore nominally a Christian and a citizen
of Rome, had sent marauding bands to Ireland to capture slaves. Some of
the new converts were taken captive by these slave-hunters, an outrage
which drew forth an indignant protest from the great Messenger:

"My neophytes in their white robes, the baptismal chrism still wet and
glistening on their foreheads, were taken captive with the sword by
these murderers. The next day I sent letters begging them to liberate
the baptized captives, but they answered my prayer with mocking
laughter. I know not which I should mourn for more,--those who were
slain, those who were taken prisoner, or those who in this were Satan's
instruments, since these must suffer everlasting punishment in
perdition."

He appeals indignantly to the fellow-Christians of Coroticus in Britain:
"I pray you, all that are righteous and humble, to hold no converse
with those who do these things. Eat not, drink not with them, accept no
gifts from them, until they have repented and made atonement, setting
free these newly-baptized handmaidens of Christ, for whom He died....
They seem to think we are not children of one Father!"

The work and mission of this great man grow daily better known. The
scenes of each marked event are certainly identified. His early slavery,
his time of probation, was spent in Antrim, on the hillside of Slieve
Mish, and in the woods that then covered its flanks and valleys.
Wandering there with his flocks to the hill-top, he looked down over the
green darkness of the woods, with the fertile open country stretching
park-like beyond, to the coast eight miles away. From his lonely summit
he could gaze over the silvery grayness of the sea, and trace on the
distant horizon the headlands of his dear native land. The exile's heart
must have ached to look at them, as he thought of his hunger and
nakedness and toil. There in deep pity came home to hi