But how few, like Henry Wallingford, enter with anything like
pleasure into their work! It is, in most cases, held as drudgery,
and regarded only as the means to cherished ends in life wholly
removed from the calling itself. Impatience comes as a natural
result. The hand reaches forth to pluck the growing fruit ere it is
half ripened. No wonder that its taste is bitter to so many
thousands. No wonder that true success comes to so small a
number--that to so many life proves but a miserable failure.
CHAPTER VII.
The morning which broke after that night of storm was serene and
beautiful. The air had a crystal clearness, and as you looked away
up into the cloudless azure, it seemed as if the eye could penetrate
to an immeasurable distance. The act of breathing was a luxury. You
drew in draught after draught of the rich air, feeling, with every
inhalation, that a new vitality was absorbed through the lungs,
giving to the heart a nobler beat, and to the brain a fresh
activity. With what a different feeling did I take up my round of
duties for the day! Yesterday I went creeping forth like a reluctant
school boy; to-day, with an uplifted countenance and a willing step.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75