28 THE FURZE-BUSH. 



There was yet another iiiducenient to gRlher 

 these buds of furze : I whs about to pnss a spot 

 singularly interesling to me — a grave, over which 

 I have often bent with sensations of exquisite de- 

 licht. The silent tenarjt of that dark and narrow 

 house, in the few months of our intimate ac- 

 quaintance, furnished me with an opportunity of 

 bringing into action all that God was pleased to 

 impart to me of enterprize and perseverance, 

 for the aiiainmeiit of a trophy more glorious than 

 aughf, and all, that can perish. I could not but 

 frequently compare that work with the attempt to 

 gather flowers from the midst of numerous and 

 piercing thorns ; and more than once, during its 

 progress, have J stopped to rend a sprio from the 

 forbidding furze, and then divested that sprig of 

 all individual points, that 1 might rejoice in the suc- 

 cess of an allegorical exploit. To none but to 

 Him who helped me, is it known what I endured 

 before the victory was made manifest which IIb, 

 not I, achieved ; nor will Christian charity admit 

 the lifting of that veil which I desire to throw over 

 the opposition of some, whose crown of rejoicing 

 it might well have proved to be fellow-helpers in 

 such a work. I gathered the blossoms ; and thank- 

 fully will I leave the thorns out of sight, forcjclting 

 those things that are behind, and reaching forward 

 to what is yet before me. 



Mary was the name of this departed one, whose 



