Next he crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked in the tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting bough quietly lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it suspended, instead of dropping it in the mud.

Still he made progress, though slow; now with a giant stride across an exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from side to side.

The lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance.
But there was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any other obstacle.

It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or wrong, in these cynical days.

He was too young to have acquired much worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which arises from thorough conviction and the sense of personal consecration conferred by the mission on the man.