Day was now breaking, and I threw myself on my bed for a short sleep.

When I awoke, my dear mother was beside me.
"Your uncle is awake, and talking to your father," said she, softly.

"He refuses the passport, because it was not made out for himself, saying he will not do an evil that good may come." "This is sheer madness," said I, springing up.
"It is consistency," said my mother.

"We are now on the brink of a great struggle between the powers of light and darkness.

Those who feel they have no strength of their own to meet it with, and do not care to seek it from above, will probably give in at the very first word--certainly do so sooner or later; but those whose adhesion to God's cause is of any worth, will brace themselves for the encounter, knowing that He can and will arm them for the fight." "You approve my uncle's making a point of conscience, then, of this ?" "I must say I do, though your father is angry with him for it.