h the party was riding.

And, truly, it was a prospect which might well absorb the attention and
admiration of men less capable of being affected by the beauties of
nature than Hans Marais.

They were passing through a verdant glen at the foot of the mountains,
the air of which was perfumed with wild flowers, and filled with the
garrulous music of paroquets and monkeys. In front lay the grand range
of the Winterberg, with its coronet of rocks, its frowning steeps, its
grassy slopes, and its skirts feathered over with straggling forest,--
all bathed in the rich warm glow of an African sunset.

"You have not answered me, Hans," said Considine, after a pause. "Why
do you think I am indifferent to the world's happiness?"

"Because," replied the other, with an expression unusually serious on
his countenance, "I do not see that you make any effort--beyond being
good-natured and amiable, which you cannot help--to make the world
better."

Considine looked at his friend with surprise, and replied, with a
laugh--"Why, Hans, you are displaying a new phase of character. Your
remark is undoubtedly true--so true indeed that, although I object to
that commonplace retort,--`You're another,'--I cannot help pointing out
that it applies equally to yourself."

"It is just because it applies equably to myself that I make it,"
rejoined Hans, with unaltered gravity. "You and I profess to be
Christians, we both think that we are guided by Christian principles--
and doubtless, to some extent, we are, but what have we done for the
cause that we call `good,' that is good? I speak for myself at all
events--I have hitherto done nothing, absolutely nothing."

"My dear fellow," said Considine, with a sudden burst of candour, "I
believe you are right, and I plead guilty; but then what can we do? We
are not clergymen."

"Stephen Orpin is not a clergyman, yet see what _he_ does. It was
seeing what that man does, and how he lives, that first set me
a-thinking on this subject. He attends to his ordinary calling quite as
well as any man of my acquaintance, and, I'll be bound, makes a good
thing of it, but any man with half an eye can see that he makes it
subservient to the great work of serving the Saviour, whom you and I
profess to love. I have seen him suffer loss rather than work on the
Lord's day. More than once I've seen him gain discredit for his
so-called fanaticism. He is an earnest man, eagerly seeking an end
which is _outside