In the shifting crowds of men and women along our life-pilgrimage, few are those who feel an abiding interest in the concerns of others. We meet and part, each thinking of what he may have gained in the way of social inspiration, rather than of what he may have imparted. It is not indifference, however, which most severely galls the sensitive spirit; it is the active opposition that ever seems the lot of him or her who would help humanity. I do not know if any feet have reached the upper rounds of high ideals, without shaking off detaining hands. In the case of Mrs. Carr, influences adverse not only to her work, but to her peace of mind, were destined to attend her through life.

It is impossible to estimate the good that might be accomplished, if mankind would rally around those souls fired with lofty purposes, and strengthen and make more effective those purposes, by sympathetic encouragement; if it were human nature to add to lofty ambitions, by lending substance from one's own slighter forces. But it appears to be the rule that wherever one is found who desires to do a great good for others, a dozen are found to weaken his influence and to seek to undermine his work. Those physical mannerisms which are presently to perish with the flesh, are seized upon for the purpose of striking dead, influences which might otherwise have been eternal.

When Mrs. Carr, experienced for the first time the cruelty of this truth, she was unprepared for it. In later years, having learned her lesson, having been convinced that opposition to truth is inherent to human nature, she was able to hold her courage with a fixed and steel-willed conviction, that cut its way through all walks of opposition. But at first she was not prepared for this unlovely trait of lesser minds. Accordingly, we sometimes find her sinking, wavering, fluttering like a bird in a snare, before the breath of treachery, and the opposition of jealous natures.

To understand the story of this life in its entirety, one must know the details of these struggles and these disappointments. Yet we would rather leave the story incomplete, than perpetuate misunderstandings and misrepresentations. Those who opposed Mrs. Carr in all of her educational plans, share the fate of one who chooses as his part in life, that of opposition. It is not he who opposes, but he who performs, to whom the world owes its gratitude. Those who are antagonistic to good works, court the oblivion that awaits them. Those who, in spite of discouragements and hostility, hold tenaciously to lofty purposes, leave to the world such monuments of their devotion, as the sun-kissed college on the flower-embossed hill overlooking Sherman, Texas.

We shall content ourselves, therefore, with passing by, in silence, the words and deeds of the ill-natured, the unfriendly and the indifferent. One should not go back into the past to gather its thorns. So much is said at this place, that those conversant with the controversies and contentions of school and church life during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, need not expect to find them reanimated in this volume.

The following selection from Mrs. Carr's diary deals with her first trip to North Tasmania whither, two years later, she and her husband were to go for a year's sojourn:

"Jan. 3. Left for Hobart Town, Tasmania, on the ship Southern Cross. Sisters at the wharf. Kissed Ollie goodby. Dashed away the tears—may we meet again, dear husband!

"4th. Passed through Port Philip's Bay. Over the Rip, that terrible Rip! what seasickness it brings! Terrible storm! I was crowded out of my birth, but was glad to get the fresh air. The captain and stewardess were kind. The Lord bless them.

"5th. Reached Hobart Town, 7 a. m. Met by the Walworths, to whom Ollie had telegraphed. Saw more vice in two hours than I saw in New York in two weeks. What wicked people!

"6th. Sailed in the Monarch to New Norfolk, 22 miles. Scenery along the Derwent is grand, but not to be compared to that of the beautiful Ohio. Hop gardens far up the hills, shrouded in mists. How lovely!

"7th. Visited Salmon Ponds, 7 miles from New Norfolk. Salmons raised here, as they are not native to Australia; 30,000 sent to the ocean yearly through the streams that supply the ponds from the Derwent. Returned to North Tasmania by coach; fine view of the country—how I wished for Ollie!

"8th. Stormy day. Spent it indoors, sewing and gazing at frowning Mt. Wellington, the pride of Tasmania. Attended services on a man-of-war.

"10th. Visited Town Hall and Museum. Saw handwriting of the King of Madagascar.

"11th. Went by coach to Launceston, distance of 120 miles. The grand mountainous scenery compensated for the long ride. Passed the Western ridge on top of which smile beautiful lakes, 1,000 feet above the sea. More like Kentucky than any scenery I've witnessed.

"12th. Visited Cataract Gorge on South Esk. To Prince's Square where stands the finest fountain in the Colonies; it was imported from Paris.

"13th. At Mechanics' Institute saw life-size oil paintings of Victoria and Prince Albert, and the Prince and Princess of Wales. What a sweet, gentle face Princess Alexandria has! Dear woman, she deserves a better husband. These people are so kind to me—Ollie will love them for that.

"14. Visited Mr. Gunn, Curator of Museum, who promised to send specimens to Kentucky University. My husband's Alma Mater is dear to me, because dear to him. Launceston by Tamar. Sick all the way to Port Philip. Scenery along Tamar not so bold as along the Derwent.

"15th. Reached Melbourne, and waited at Brother Zelius' to see Ollie. How glad I am to be with my dear husband once more. May the dear Lord spare him till I die. Only God knows how dear he is to me; God will not take him from me."

At this time, the youth whom we have known as "Vaney" Magarey, leaves the Carrs' household, no longer to play marbles in the third story at stolen intervals, but to take his place in the world as Dr. S. J. Magarey; the "Vaney" quite lost among these dignified initials. Also his brother "Alex." departs, meaning to sail to America. From Adelaide, Vaney writes back; sending Mrs. Carr ten pounds, evidently on her birthday, for he tells Mr. Carr, "I promised Mrs. Carr ten pounds. Please lay them on with your fist with as much severity as you think fitting." Then he tells of £8,000 worth of Adelaide gold just discovered, and sends his regards to all inquiring friends, "except tailors and bailiffs."

Somewhat later, he writes that he will not return; another may have his room. He is interested in Mr. Carr's work as a teacher of prospective ministers,—"For goodness' sake, do not turn them out half-educated. Sometimes students are allowed to leave the Academy before they know enough, and then they cause anxiety to many, and prejudice people against colonial-made preachers." As for Vaney, himself, "We are at the seaside, and have a swim every morning, and drive every day."

An interesting character, this gay young physician, son of the rich M. P. As we have seen, he and his brother were accustomed to address the congregations on Sunday mornings, while they attended the University of Melbourne. When he had graduated, Vaney or "S. J." as we must call him now, went to South Australia and lived with his father, where Gore was editing the Pioneer. The young physician married one of Mrs. Carr's favorite pupils. He became successful in his profession, while his brother developed into a splendid preacher. "Alex. preaches and I practice," said the doctor. When it was necessary for Mr. Gore to be absent from the pulpit, he would call on "Dr. S. J." to preach the sermon in his stead.

In the meantime the father, Thomas Magarey, has seen his son "Alex." off to America, in the company of Evangelist Earl. He writes to Mr. Carr, but not now about bears with sore heads: "I have your letter dated 'Washington's birthday.' I have heard something of Washington, but never heard that he had a birthday. I suppose Washington is one of those best kind of demons, more worshipped in America than England. When I go to Barnum's Museum, I will inquire for his birthday.

"I am glad to hear your Forrester's Hall was so hot, because I had thought our White's Room the hottest place in Australia. I am still inclined to think we can sweat freer at White's. I am glad Brother H. makes a good deacon; I am always glad when a Scotchman can be found good for something. Dr. Johnson says the animal ought to be caught while young. You say your health is better, but I cannot believe it, for you give yourself no chance to get better. Go away and take a rest. Why was Paul allowed to waste so much time and energy? Was he not a citizen of no mean city (the Kentucky of his day?) Was he not senior wrangler under Prof. Gamaliel? Had he not graduated with honors and degree of A. M. from the University of Jerusalem? He was at least master of the art of tent-making. Yet with all these accomplishments, he went away somewhere into Arabia for three years. Then he goes from city to city afoot, in danger of being robbed—why wasn't he provided with a buggy? Instead of preaching in a jail, why not have occupied the biggest house in Phillippi? It wouldn't have been refused after that earthquake. Instead of working at his trade for bread, wouldn't it have been better for the missionary cause, if the brethren had paid him a salary, and had him give all his time to preaching? What a waste of time! He might have been writing a "Reply—a Tract"—to the Rev. Annanias of the Temple. And think of him at Rome, chained to a Roman soldier (no doubt a Yankee barbarian!) Why, if he had been chained to a Barnabas or Titus, they must soon have got to quarreling. Think of him two years in his own hired house, when the church of Rome ought to have put out handbills that Rev. Paul would preach at the Town Council! But perhaps there were Scotch deacons in that church, for we know there were Britains in Rome. They were too cautious.

"But a thought upsets my theory. Perhaps the Lord saw that Paul's own mind needed the discipline through which he was passing. Perhaps it is so with young men of the present day—sometimes their energy seems wasted; but it may be in order to make the most of their good qualities; that they may learn in time to be sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. Well, I must close my letter and go out into the barren wilderness which surrounds me, in which the shepherd is at wits' end to find pasture for the sheep."

From Mrs. Carr's diary, Mar. 27, 1870: "Two years ago we made those holy vows to each other that only God can sever. Two years ago, we left brothers and sisters, and all the tender associations of sweet home. May we ever be true to each other, and to God. O blessed Savior, give me more of thy gentleness and of thy humility. Make me a better child and a better wife, as the silent years creep on, leading me closer to the grave,—the dark path that leads to the beautiful mansion in our Father's house. * * * Visited Botanical Gardens, overlooking the Bay. Visited Barrabool hills and along Barwon river to Geelong across the Bay, 50 miles from Melbourne, where we got a cup of milk."

On Mrs. Carr's birthday, her pupils thus testify to their affection: "We cannot permit this opportunity to pass without manifesting our appreciation of the excellent course of instruction you have pursued, and the kindness, perseverance and patience you have combined with Christian love and forbearance, with which you have exercised your arduous duties. You have not only enlarged our understanding, but excited in our hearts a deep feeling of love. You are more like a dear, fond friend than a teacher. The most difficult lessons become, under your guidance, pleasant studies. May you live many years to pursue the noble efforts of your life."—Signed by the young ladies of her class.

From J. B. Bowman, now in Washington City: "I have been prosecuting a claim for damages done the University buildings during the war; I will succeed in getting $25,000, which will be expended in the erection of buildings at Ashland. I have written thanking you for your valued favor of shipping the box of specimens for the Museum. We had the pleasure of opening it to-day at the Smithsonian Institution, and oh! how delighted was I, with the rare and beautiful things in it! It shall be placed in a special case in Ashland. Sister Mattie, how exact they are in the classification and arrangement, showing so much care and skill and science on your part! General Latham arrived after a trip of six months. He called on me to-day at the department. He says Sister Carr is the most highly educated and accomplished lady in Australia. We have about 800 enrolled at the University. The Bible College is a grand success. I propose nominating Jas. C. Keith as Adjunct Professor. Oh, if I had a million dollars, there would be 500 in the Bible College! To this end of enlarging the University, I am working and praying every day of my life."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr—relative to this brief visit to Sidney: "September 27, '71: We will reach Sidney at dark to-night. It is hard to write on the ship. All of us have been very sick, but it is fine now. The wind is fair and we are gliding along most beautifully as we promenade the deck. There is a man on board who has been in Louisville, and May's Lick! His name is Smith; a brother of John's I presume!

"28th: After a fine dinner yesterday at five, we had music on deck. Dark came on, and with it the lights of Sidney Harbor. It was the grandest view I ever had of any harbor. The lights were everywhere, and their reflection in the water was like posts surmounted by candles, and we were sailing right into the midst of these posts. We came right up to the wharf and there stood a number of Sidney friends to put us in cabs. After I went to bed, the old steamer was still roaring in my ears, and the floor was moving up and down, as I went off to dreamland. I am now sitting in a little parlor with a headache, waiting for breakfast and fearfully hungry.

"30th: I saw Parliament houses, and fine they are. I walked through Hyde Park, where is a monument to Captain Cook with this inscription; 'Captain Cook, born in Yorkshire 1726, founded this territory 1770.' Just over the monument I saw, away in the distance, part of Sidney harbor, the sun shining on the hills, and glistening in the water. Visited a former servant of the Magareys, who is now independent and owns a mill of his own. His daughter is a fascinating little creature—don't be jealous!—a perfect prodigy on the piano. They insist that I must preach here two Sundays.

"Sidney is the funniest laid-out place I ever saw. Part of the city is compact, the streets running every direction, at all angles, like London, while a short distance toward New Town there is a cowpen or paddock. The houses are strongly and handsomely built of massive stone, and some have stone steps running to the top of the three stories. Some houses look as if they had stood for centuries. It seems to me that the poorest thing the people have is religion. The one thing needful is the only thing neglected. I am not over my seasickness, and even now the table seems to be going up and down as I write. Give my love to Surber and Zelius, etc. If my tooth quits aching, I shall bring it back to Melbourne in my mouth.

"Oct. 3rd: Preached yesterday to small but interesting audiences. At night, three confessions—the first ever had in Sidney immediately after the preaching. The brethren were delighted.

"Oct. 4th: Went to hear an elocutionary effort in a little chapel; I was charmed by the speaker's manner and style, but pained because he did not preach the Gospel. From there we hurried on a boat for a trip up the Parramatta river, and saw Sidney Harbor to best advantage. I never saw such a sight, not even in old Kentucky! It is beautiful beyond description. The river was clear and smooth, sparkling in the sun. As far as the eye could reach were the weeping willows and pines, and trees whose foliage had the appearance of a continuous mountain range, relieved by beautiful flowers and lawns surrounding the prettiest houses, in front of which were the winding walks. The red soil and bright pebbles glistened down to the shore-bridge, where the boat would stop for passengers. We saw many islands where were beautiful houses and gardens, and could see the people walking about in their island homes. The most famous was Cockatoo Island whither the convicts were once sent, from which there was no possible escape. There stood the houses in which they had once lived. As the steamer glided on, we saw the ripe oranges hanging from the trees, and when we landed to go to a hotel at Parramatta, the perfume of the flowers followed us through the streets.

"Oct. 9th: Your two letters came, and I had a rare treat reading them. I was so glad to hear of the success you are having in the matter of raising funds to build the chapel! Hurrah for those sisters at Collingwood! We'll have a chapel, won't we? Certainly, if my wife takes the enterprise in hand!"

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr, while he was on his visit to Sidney: "It is very stormy today on land,—what will it be on the sea? I dreamt last night of a sinking ship. In reaching forward to save you, I awoke. May God bring you back safe to me, my dear, dear husband! Jane Nash" (of whom the reader is presently to hear) "is going to Tasmania in about a fortnight to be married to Brother Smith; she wants you to perform the ceremony. Can you not come home by way of Tasmania? Jane will go over any time you can be there. Let us know."

Among the young men who were bound to the Carrs by tender affection, and a common religious interest, was George Smith, a hatter by trade. Some time before the Sidney experience, Mr. Carr met Smith on the street, and the young man grasped the minister's hand, while the tears shone in his eyes. He had been out of a job for some time. "And now," he said, "I have found a position. I answered an advertisement a few days ago, and a telegram has come for me to take a place at once."

"Then what is the trouble?" asked Mr. Carr.

The trouble was that the position offered Smith was at Hobart Town, in Tasmania. There was no Church of Christ at Hobart Town; there was no one known to the young hatter, and, moreover, there was Jane! "How can I leave the brethren?" exclaimed Smith; "and how can I leave Jane?"

Jane Nash had been reared a Roman Catholic. Through the influence of her suitor, she was induced to attend the preaching. She was so disturbed by what she heard, that she resolved to take her Bible, visit the different preachers, and have them point out the places that might tell her what to do to be saved. She visited several; but they could only tell her to read her Bible, to pray, to wait for a divine influence. At last, she accosted Mr. Surber with her oft repeated question: "Will you tell me what I must do to be saved?"

"I cannot tell you," said Mr. Surber; "but I will direct you to those who can; men who ought to know, for the Savior himself inspired them to speak his will."

Jane was greatly excited. Mr. Surber took her back to the day of Pentecost, and had her sit under the preaching of Peter. Her question was the very one Peter had been asked. The answer on that day was the answer now. Jane confessed her faith, and was baptized.

It was best for George Smith to leave Melbourne, that he might make a home for himself and his betrothed. Dear as both were to the Carrs, they urged the young man to accept the position, and Jane, to wait till he could send for her. After they were married, they faded for a time from the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Carr; but, as we shall presently see, they were again to enter their history in a way more pronounced.

In the meantime J. C. Keith writes from Louisville, and gives us a melancholy bit of news as regards that Australian student whom we had seen dropping potatoes, to hurry along his education; Keith writes to Mrs. Carr: "I have read with interest all your articles to our different papers. You are doing a noble work for the Master. Few women in this fashion and money-loving age would endure so much for the Savior. Oh, that woman would rise to the dignity of her position! * * * My letter has been interrupted. The life of a city preacher is a checkered, yet a glorious one. One day he exhorts the brethren to be faithful, the next he faces a bridal pair, the next he stands beside the dead; then he visits the poor and bereaved and goes reading, and singing, and praying, on his way. I met Brother Earl and Magarey" (our Alex.) "Earl is working hard to raise the $20,000 for your Bible College in Australia. I saw Mr. Cowley yesterday. He is in this city, working for some Boston book house." (This is our enthusiastic Australian pupil. Note his sequel.) "Don't think the Cause lost much." (Ah, yes, let us solace ourselves as best we may.)

J. W. McGarvey writes encouraging words, not about young Cowley, who, alas! is no longer ours, but regarding another Australian student who is destined to remain in the fold: "Our Bible College is moving on with steady growth. We have 107 matriculates and expect 20 more. The Apostolic Times is growing in favor, but not so rapidly as we would like. The tendency among us is strongly in favor of latitudinarianism; our opposition to this rouses counter opposition. The Standard, under its free and easy policy, has almost caught up with the Review. The Christian has at last possession of the Pioneer, and has a clear field in Missouri. We have recently had a runaway match of a rather unusual character. A young son of Brother G. W. Longan of Missouri, who was a student at the Bible College, got a dismissal to go home, and slipped off with Emma Lard, Brother Lard's third daughter. Bad for the children of two preachers! All the special friends of the parties are very much mortified. The young couple are poor and inexperienced; they have a poor prospect before them. "Brother Capp" (our young man from Australia) "is making a good student. He is industrious, popular, and recites very well for a new pupil. Much love to Sister Carr, and many thanks for her good letters in the Times."

John Augustus Williams is very doubtful about that Australian University scheme; he writes to Mrs. Carr: "I know the Lord, by his tender providence, is guiding you to do a good and noble work. I hardly know what to say in reference to your proposed trip to the United States with a view to raise funds for a College in Australia. No doubt you could succeed better than Brother Earl" (whose efforts for $20,000 came to nothing). "But you would assume a great undertaking. While I would give you all the help I could, you would have to depend mainly on your own personal appeals. It is impossible to excite any general interest in an enterprise that lies so far away. Though Charity may extend a liberal hand, she does not reach far."

Mrs. Carr, in a letter, gives a sidelight on her busy life: "If you could follow me one day through No. 4 Barclay Terrace, and then through the streets of Melbourne, you would lay your finger upon my lips, should I seek to apologize for not writing oftener. I am discharging some duty every waking hour, and I rarely retire till after twelve. Yet with all my humble efforts, a host of duties unfulfilled is daily pressing upon my conscience. Often in the storm, it is a perplexity to know what should be done first. But I rejoice that I had the strength to cut the cord binding me to the vanities of life. No, I do not complain, for I never lived until I came to Australia. When I read, two years ago, Mrs. Browning's line, 'Where we live, we suffer and toil,' I thought it a golden bar of poetry; now I know it to be a diamond of truth. Then, it moved my girl's spirit with the murmur of the outer world; now, it pushes my woman's nature toward the inner significance of all things. Yes, to suffer and toil, is to live!

"So I enjoy this life; but I should enjoy it intensely, if I had but three hours every day to devote to self-improvement. It may be a selfish desire; not having a single hour to cultivate my mind, is a sore trial. I try to smother this longing, fearing it may be wrong; but my every effort seems to give it a brighter glow. It is a part of my life, a part of the life that hungers after the beautiful, the wise, the infinite. If I were with you, I would bore you from morning to night with poetry; for during my summer vacations in girlhood, my store of poetry grew painfully immense. Have you read 'Gold Foil,' and 'Bitter Sweet,' or 'Dream Life,' and 'Reveries of a Bachelor'? If not, a rich feast awaits you. There is a deep, strong poetry in all that dropped from 'Ike Marvel's pen, though he wrote nothing but prose. I thought of comparing that brilliant writer to Washington Irving, but remembered the grave of buried love, and Friendship weeping there, and my hand refused to commit the sacrilege."

In October, 1871, we find that one of our "Trio"—the graduating class of '67—has been attacked by a foe from whom there is to be no escape. The letter is from Albert Myles: "Yes, the notice in the Times by Brother Brooks was correct. I am disabled from preaching—my last sermon was delivered April 26th, six months ago. I may never be well enough to preach again, though I try to keep a brave heart and hope on. It was at first a cold, of which I thought little, but instead of getting better, I finally had a cough—the doctors said it was bronchitis. By their advice, I resigned my position and went to St. Louis, as the doctors said a rest would restore me. But shortly after I came to the city, the 8th and Mound Street congregation earnestly solicited my services. They are poor, and only about 200. I consented to preach twice on Lord's day, if they would not ask me to visit; but it was a mistake; the work did not seem heavy, but I grew worse, and worse. I still thought my lungs were sound, and being called to the church at Columbia, Mo., I thought I would go there for the country air. I had been but a week or two, when I was compelled to quit and return to St. Louis. I had the doctors examine me again, and, to my utter astonishment, they said with great unanimity that I had old fashioned tubercular consumption, and that my life depended upon quitting preaching immediately, and that, for a good while. I have not dared even to exhort in prayer meeting, since then. As to my coming to Australia, the dangers of the voyage have never been considered by me. But if I come—for I cannot even yet decide not to do so—could the trip improve me sufficiently to labor there? And suppose I came, and could do no more than I do here!

"My headquarters are still in St. Louis; but I am not living anywhere in particular. I am at Mt. Sterling, Ky., now, where I see your brothers nearly every day. They do not look strong, but you can't tell anything about the Carr tribe by their looks, they are such a bony set! I must go to church now—will finish this letter after church if strong enough." The next day he takes up the pen again. "You have doubtless seen an account of the death of my brother James. No man in the ministry did so much work as he, in the same length of time. He was literally the victim of overwork! We have also lost our darling little Allene; she was 20 months old. Not only we, but every one thought her remarkably beautiful. Dear Ol., you have never been blessed with one of these little heavenly messengers; but neither have your hopes, once kindled, been turned to ashes. May the Heavenly Father give us the strength to endure."

So cries out our young Christian soldier, almost fallen in the last trench of the hard battle; a cry for help, but a cry, too, of fealty, to his great Captain. One by one his arms have been stripped from his feeble grasp—he cannot even exhort in prayer meeting!—and how fondly he remembers the date of his last sermon!—and no little Allene ("I shall never love another child so well," he says)—no fighting brother James to carry on the standard. But he still hopes he may get to Australia for missionary service. We, who cannot share his hopes, can at least rejoice that he began duty so young; for consider this; in the few years of his ministry, he has done more for Christ, than many a man of sixty.

His beloved schoolmate, Oliver Carr, stands much in the danger of James Myles. His energies are all gone—we do not say wasted, but spent; a vacation is imperative, and the missionary turns toward South Australia, whence have come the letters from Magarey and Gore, and Gore's father-in-law, Philip Santo. Mr. Carr goes thither on a visit to these three—the rich miller, the evangelist and editor, and the rich iron monger. This holiday furnishes us with the concluding series of the present chapter. The time is the Australian spring (or American Fall) of 1871.

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I am in Brother Gore's study at Clapham, safe and sick. I was met by Santo," (M. P.) "Earl" (who failed in his attempt to bring over American gold for our Australian College) "Moysey" (who sold his calf some time ago to buy school books, not in vain) "Gore" (who has a new baby, T. J., Jr., by name, and affords the Australianized Kentuckian a fresh vantage point from which to argue against homesickness) "and many others. I never was so thoroughly seasick. I was on the bed or couch from one harbor to the other. I'm sick yet. Brother Gore and I came near talking all last night through. I've been asked many questions about Miss Ettie" (Gore's sister-in-law, who wrote to her father, "I love you," and who is still attending Mrs. Carr's boarding-school.)

He writes the next day: "I've gotten off my sea-legs, but my health is no better. We drove out to Magarey's and the family were glad to see us" (no talk of sore-headed bears, we may conclude). "Alex. is well," (who preaches while his brother "practices.") "For the first time, I pulled ripe oranges from the tree. We talked incessantly. I ate six before dinner." (The talk, then, not quite incessant!) "This country about Adelaide is a level plain for 200 miles around the seashore, girt by hills like those at Maysville on the Kentucky side. In the early morning, as I look at those hills and the lovely plains silvered with light, all is so much like home that my heart rises in my mouth, and I could almost say poetry! Adelaide seems to have been laid out for about 200,000 people, but only about 30,000 have come; so the spaces between the houses have been made into lawns and fragrant gardens. It is truly a rural place. The houses are principally one-story, with gardens, trees, etc. I only wish you were here to enjoy it. We talked about Kentucky University and the 'boys,' etc., all day long. These are just my kind of folk!"

Mr. Carr a few days later: "I am resting, oh, so good! I'm as easy as an old shoe—I wrote that while looking at Brother Santo, who had just come in to sauce me. He is a good man; I have a deal of fun with him. I get on the scales nearly every day to see if I've fattened. I wish you could breathe this clear, fresh air, and the perfume of the roses! I can hardly stop in the house long enough to write a letter. I baptized one last night. I told you how scattered the houses of Adelaide are—no danger of anybody's getting killed by being run over. This air is so clear that you can distinctly see the bodies of the trees and the cows grazing on the hills, six miles away. Tell Miss Ettie I don't blame her for being homesick for a place like this; all the family are just like Miss Ettie, so you would like them all."

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I am distressed over Dr. Campbell's diagnosis. If your right lung is weak, a few more weeks' preaching in the hall would bring on disease. Now, my dear husband, the best thing that you could do, is to act the part of a rational being by taking the doctor's advice. If you will spend the summer in Tasmania" (whither our friend Geo. Smith has gone to make tall silk hats,) "I will gladly stay here in Melbourne for your sake. If you ought to return to America before the building of the Chapel—in other words, before the Cause is firmly established in Collingwood,—I am willing to do that or anything to re-establish your health. These are only suggestions; your own judgment must decide. No consideration could induce me to oppose you in any course the doctor might pronounce. Ollie, take good care of yourself. I am glad you and Brother Gore are going to the mountains. Climb Mt. Lofty, if it is accessible. You won't be able to tease Ettie about her country, when you return, you are so enthusiastic about its beauties. My birthday party passed off happily. My girls surprised me with a beautiful toast rack, butter knife and candlestick. It was a real surprise. We had delightful music. Two complimentary tickets just came for you from the Town Hall. Ettie and I will have the tickets, and you can have the honor. May the Lord bless you, my darling, and give you the strength to accomplish your proposed work in this land. I will be as economical as I can, that your health may not suffer for want of travel. Your large donation to the Chapel Fund will make things a little hard, but the Lord will supply us in a way that we know not."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I have been with Alex. to see such sights from the top of Mt. Lofty, as I cannot describe. The Magareys have done their best to make me happy, and oh, I do enjoy it! We went to church; Brother —— gave us the fall of Jericho. We got home at 9, enjoyed our cocoa, then to rest. Brother Gore is going to give his class a two weeks' holiday; then we will go fishing, and sit on the fence! We have great audiences here, our Cause is very strong in this country; and yet there are only about 350 real members (year 1870) in Adelaide; the faithful are few!"

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I miss your wise counsel and kind encouragement in the discharge of duties. I would not wish to live without you; I feel that I could not. I hope you will write to Brother Albert Myles without delay. In his present health, he must be greatly crushed by the death of his brother. If you do not take the rest you require, you will go as perhaps Brother Albert is going. The Lord bless Brothers Santo and Gore for their goodness to you! Ollie, I wish you would write more of what you feel, and less of what you see. I want to know if you are any better, and I want to know Dr. Campbell's opinion in full. Ettie and I enjoyed the annual meeting of the deaf and dumb at the Town Hall. We had a representation of a cricket match; and the battle of Hastings. How did you happen to write 'Six shillings are too much for the book?' In my opinion you should have said 'Six shillings are too many,' or, 'is too much.' I called on the American consul's wife; both are pleasant people. I am still determined to keep you in Tasmania two or three months during the summer, even if I have to keep lodgers."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I find no fault in what you have written for the Times, why you should not have it published. I return you the MS. with my approval. Brother Gore and I went by coach to a fine old English tavern at Port Elliott where we staid till Saturday. I got you some shells. We wandered over the beautiful fields, gathering the wild flowers daily, and hourly left our little (?) footprints on the beach to be washed away. I wish you could have seen that view! Mattie, do you think I would let you stop at home and slave away, for me to have all the fun, just because of what Dr. Campbell says about one lung? I am glad your birthday party passed off so well. Many thanks for the flowers from your bouquet."

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I am sending you an article for the Times, for you to criticise. Return it to me and I will send it to Brother McGarvey, as I want to write to him. If there is anything in the article you disapprove, underline it, and perhaps I will omit. That which you cannot tolerate, doubly underline, and I will certainly strike it out. Does the little boy really cry for you, when you start for town, or isn't it for Brother Gore? Thanks for the nice flowers. I appreciate such a remembrance from my 'prosy husband.' If Ettie returns next year, I will keep you in Tasmania for your health three months. She is such a good girl, I love her more every day. I miss you more than I can tell, darling; but I have made up my mind to do what is best for you. Brother Dick remembered you at morning service, yesterday. It is after eleven now, and I must read some French before I sleep."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I am sorry I wrote you anything about Dr. Campbell's notion—I believe you called it a 'diagnosis.' There is nothing serious. My breathing is all right,—but my unbreathing isn't perfect. But I think I'm coming round finely. I shall certainly write to Albert Myles. Brother Santo is teasing me—I can't write. He is such a jolly good soul. He has been put up for the Upper House, and is pretty sure to go in. Much excitement about it. Brother Gore and I tease him all the time."

Mrs. Carr to Mr. Carr: "I still insist upon that Tasmania trip. Sister Smith is confident you can do much good there during your two months' rest." (Sister Smith is the Jane Nash, once a Catholic, whom Geo. Smith left when he accepted his position in Tasmania. Ever since the hatter went thither, he has urged the Carrs to come and establish a Church of Christ; now that he has married Jane, he has a faithful ally in sending the call for help to Melbourne.) "Expenses are running up, and I have no way to meet the bills; but the Lord has helped us in the past, and he will in the future. Your trip to Adelaide has put us in debt; but never mind, we will get out; just now, we must restore my darling's health. Your letter was read to the church last Lord's day, and all were rejoiced at the improvement of your health. They say it is a shame you have never had a long rest after three constant years of labor! They desire very much your recovery, for they know how much depends upon you at Collingwood. I am writing on your table in Ettie's room. She occupies your study and will till you return. Aren't we saucy girls! But you will be so glad to see us, you won't scold. My eyes are closing—so good night, my love."

Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "Had a long talk with Sister —— . She is too despondent to be a happy woman. There's no use in such a thing as that. Be cheerful and happy! I wish you were with me here at Two Wells. I was at the Port yesterday, 7 miles away, and got to fishing and got several bites, and came near catching a fish. I had him near the top of the boat, but he—" (Ah, yes!) "I am now at North Adelaide, at Magarey's. Everybody in the room is talking away, telling me what to write—write this and that—'Tell Mrs. Carr that joke on you,' etc. Such a pleasant visit!—talk, music, etc., and I played drafts and beat them badly every time, and then threatened to beat my antagonist with the board. Brother Thomas Magarey and I had a long walk and talk. He is a fine man and is sorry for ever having misunderstood me, and been led to think strange of us. He shows a great interest in your work."

In the next chapter, we enter upon that Tasmanian visit which was destined to be of far greater proportions than Mrs. Carr at first planned. As a final word on the life at Melbourne, we quote from Mrs. Carr's diary, when all were together in the work:

"My evening class as usual. Ollie is with his Adelphian that he loves so well. How it has grown in favor under his good and gentle guidance! How delightful to see him yield a Christian influence over the hearts of those destined to become the pillars of the church!

"Took two young ladies to Chapel. They had never seen a baptism before, and were favorably impressed.

"Had a talk with my dear husband on the Baptism of Jesus and John. How hard I try to be worthy of Ollie!

"Ollie went to officers' meeting after preaching, and came home after twelve, much exhausted. Blessed Savior give him health and strength, and keep me humble.

"Wrote to President Williams about my plan for an Australian College. Blessed Savior, give my husband strength to labor for Thee."