He immediately set about to improve himself in every possible way. There was no school near; and if there had been, he had no means to go. His first efforts in learning to write were, by copying the letters out of a book with his finger in the snow. He borrowed and read all the books he could get, and attended a little church where there was preaching once each month. About two years afterwards I received a letter by some private way from this same boy, D. W. S----. On opening it, I made out its contents with some difficulty. It was an application to become a colporteur. In the letter he referred me to the Rev. Mr. R----, who lived in town. I went to him, showed him the letter, and asked him if he knew the writer. He laughed: “Yes, very well; I received him into the church. D---- is a good boy, but he is without education, and knows nothing of the world; he has never been ten miles from home in his life.” I wrote the young man a kind letter, saying I hoped he would make a colporteur some day, and advised him to go to school a while. The next thing I heard from him was a rap at my door. When I opened the door, an awkward-looking youth near six feet high stood before me, with the same suit of clothes on him he had got over two years before. The pants were several inches too short, and the coat-sleeves as deficient; indeed, the coat was little more than a big patch on his back. Said he, “I am the _fellow_ that wrote you a letter about wanting to _colport_, and I have come to see about it.” I invited him into the house. He was all in a tremor of excitement. When I opened the parlor door he looked in with amazement, and in walking to a seat avoided stepping on the white spots in the carpet, which was the first one he ever saw. He was so embarrassed he could scarcely speak. After talking a little while about crops, etc., he became composed. He then told me his desires to do good, and all about his conversion, which was entirely satisfactory. As it was late in the evening, I invited him to stay for the night; and by the time we got his poor old pony of a horse, not worth five dollars, put away, tea was ready. When he sat down he looked confused. I had much conversation with him that evening. At length I invited him up stairs to bed. On the way up he held by the railing to avoid treading on the narrow carpet in the centre. In the morning he was up whistling psalm tunes bright and early. As soon as I was dressed I called him and told him I had reflected over the matter very carefully, and had come to the conclusion that his want of education and knowledge of the world would not justify me in employing him. I saw his countenance change in a moment and the tears start in his eyes. “Oh,” said he, “_I do want you to give me work, for I do feel that all I want to live for is to work for Christ._”