e that does not blossom into religion in youth may
have light at noon, and peace at sunset, but misses the morning glory on
the hills, and the dew that sparkles on grass and flower. The call of
God to the young to seek him early is the expression of a true
psychology no less than of a love infinite in its depth and tenderness.

His college-course finished, my young friend returned to California, and
in one of its beautiful valley-towns he entered a law-office, with a
view to prepare himself for the legal profession. Here he was thrown
into daily association with a little knot of skeptical lawyers. As is
often the case, their moral obliquities ran parallel with their errors
in opinion. They swore, gambled genteelly, and drank. It is not strange
that in this icy atmosphere the growth of any young friend in the
Christian life was stunted. Such influences are like the dreaded north
wind that at times sweeps over the valleys of California in the spring
and early summer, blighting and withering the vegetation it does not
kill. The brightness of his hope was dimmed, and his soul knew the
torture of doubt--a torture that is always keenest to him who allows
himself to sink in the region of fogs after he has once stood upon the
sunlit summit of faith. Just at this crisis, a thing little in itself
deepened the shadow that was falling upon his life. A personal
misunderstanding with the pastor kept him from attending church. Thus he
lost the most effectual defense against the assaults that were being
made upon his faith and hope, in being separated from the fellowship and
cut off from the activities of the Church of God. Have you not noted
these malign coincidences in life? There are times when it seems that
the tide of events sets against us when, like the princely sufferer of
the land of Uz, every messenger that crosses the threshold brings fresh
tidings of ill, and our whole destiny seems to be rushing to a predoomed
perdition. The worldly call it bad luck; the superstitious call it fate;
the believer in God calls it by another name. Always of a delicate
constitution, my friend now exhibited symptoms of serious pulmonary
disease. It was at that time the fashion in California to prescribe
whisky as a specific for that class of ailments. It is possible that
there is virtue in the prescription, but I am sure of one thing, namely,
that if consumption diminished, drunkenness increased; if fewer died of
phthisis, more died of delirium t