nd cynical. But his was not a nature to
permit misfortune to narrow him or make him repine. He rose above it.
It did not lesson his ambitions. It broadened, humanized them. It made
him enter with still truer sympathy into other people's misfortune.
And his trust in God was so strong, his faith so unshaken, he knew
that in all these bitter experiences of life's school was a lesson. He
learned it and used it to get a broader outlook.

His friends rallied to his aid. Prominent as an editor, lawyer, leader
of the Y.M.C.A., it was not difficult to get him an appointment from
the Governor, already a warm friend. He secured the position of
emigration agent to Europe, and he turned his face Eastward. Mrs.
Conwell was left in Minneapolis, and he sailed abroad in the hope that
the sea trip and change of climate would heal the weakened tissue of
his lung and fully restore him to health. But it was a vain hope. His
strength would not permit him to fulfill the duty expected of him as
emigration agent and he was compelled to resign. For several months
he wandered about Europe trying one place, then another in the vain
search for health. He joined a surveying party and went to Palestine,
for even in those days that inner voice could not he altogether
stilled that was calling him to follow in the footsteps of the Savior
and preach and teach and heal the sick. The land where the Savior
ministered had a strong fascination for him, and he gladly seized the
opportunity to become a member of this surveying party and walk over
the ground where the Savior had gone up and down doing good.

But the trip was of no benefit to his health. Instead of gaining he
failed. He grew weaker and weaker. The hemorrhages became more and
more frequent. Finally he came to Paris and lying, a stranger and
poor, in Necker Hospital was told he could live but a few days. Face
to face again with that grim, bitter enemy of the battlefield, what
thoughts came crowding thick and fast--thoughts of his young wife in
far-away America, of father and mother, memories of the beautiful
woods, the singing streams of the mountain home, as the noise and
clamor of Paris streets drifted into the long hospital ward.

Then came a famous Berlin doctor to the dying American. He studied the
case attentively, for it was strange enough to arouse and enlist all
a doctor's keen scientific interest. When analyzed, copper had been
found in the hemorrhage, with no apparent reason for it, an