Turning aside from the public conflicts and the official cares of the Missionary's life, let us rest awhile with him, so far as the stranger may do so, amid the sanctities of home and the intercourse of friendship. Of domestic joy and social delight he knew less than most public men, less even than most Anglo-Indian exiles, although his nature yearned for the one with a Celtic intensity, and was drawn out after the other with a chivalrous impulsiveness. In this he was like the first of missionaries, who in solitude turned from the scoffing philosophers of Athens to the seething mass of sinning idolaters in Corinth, determined not to know anything save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Absorbed in daily and nightly toil after the highest quest and the divinest ideal, he could give to wife and child, friend and society, only the time which the exhausted body forced him to steal from incessant energising. What to most men forms the sum of life, was with him an accident in living. This and the method of his work, the exacting punctuality which marked all his duties, enabled him to live many lives, making his fine physique the ready slave of his impetuous spirit.

Hence, as no one desired the solace of family and friends more, the fervour with which all his relations with those he loved were surcharged, and the fascination which he exercised over the men and women whom he grappled to his soul.