The selections from his correspondence which follow illustrate these changes in him. He modified his mode of life in Mongolia. Having given up vegetarianism on his homeward voyage he did not resume it upon his re-entrance on Mongol life. He remained a total abstainer, and his hatred of opium, whisky, and tobacco continued as strong as ever, although he did not now make abstinence from the two latter a test of Church membership. He reserved more of the Sunday as a day of rest, taking only the religious services with the Christians and inquirers, and not, as formerly, setting up his tent on the street. The old careworn look disappeared, his form regained much of its former life and spring, and his face filled out, his smile resumed the brightness of old, and the voice came back to a good deal of its early clearness. All these evidences of a change for the better served to augur many years of happy work. In a letter to a friend he playfully alludes to the twenty or thirty years of labour yet remaining, and he often--half in jest and half in earnest--asserted that life in the interior was so healthy that he should probably outlive his fellow-workers at Tientsin and Peking. By the mail that conveyed the letter quoted on page 263 he also wrote to an Edinburgh friend:-- 'Do you know Adolphe Monod's _Farewell_? It was sent to me lately by Rev. C. New, of Hastings, an old Cheshunt fellow-student. I have enjoyed it all, but most, I think, chapter xii., "Of Things not seen." A volume of sermons, entitled _The Baptism of the Spirit, and other Sermons_, by Mr. New, I have enjoyed intensely. To the meek child-like spirit desiring the sincere nourishing of the Word nothing, I think, could be more helpful.... If ever you send a book to the boys, let it be one that will do their souls good. 'I may be filling my life too full, but between medical work and spiritual work I have barely time to sleep, and I find that, for any hope of continuance of work, I must have time to sleep. For the last month I have been getting up at 4.30 A.M., and our evening worship and after conversation was not over till, say, 9 or 9.15 or 9.30, or even, once or twice, till 10 P.M. Then it would take us some time to square up the day's affairs, and spread out my bedding. In the daytime I used to bolt my door, determined on an hour's quiet; but often this was in vain. I would hear some poor cultivator come for medicine; he had a long way to go home, and I could not but let him in and attend to him.