Now Miss Brewster if you could take my baby for a while, his name is Orlando and he is 18 months old and help me make a man of him and get on my feet a little and carry out a scheme I’ve got for an improved churn I’d thank you to my dying day. I aint a great hand at farm work for I cut my foot in a mowing machine and have been lame ever since and my hearing is bad. So you see there aint much I can do except invent and sometimes if it want for the inventing I think Id rather die. But I do feel sure sometime if I can only get a chance I can invent something that will sell and then I can repay you. If you send for Orlie to go to Boston I must stay there too. I couldn’t bear to be so far away from him. I should die of lonesomeness. Couldn’t you get me a chance there? I am forty-six years old and a professor.[1] Yr. ob’t servant, SILAS KITTREDGE. Footnote 1: Of religion.—ED. CHAPTER IV. Notwithstanding all that England has done for the good of India, the missionaries have done more than all other agencies combined.—LORD LAWRENCE, in 1871. ... all this is very surprising when it is considered that five years ago nothing but the fern flourished here; native workmanship taught by the missionaries has effected this change; the lesson of the missionaries is the enchanter’s wand.... I look back to but one bright spot in New Zealand, and that is Waimate with its Christian inhabitants.—CHARLES DARWIN, _Journal of Researches in Natural History and Geology_. EXTRACT FROM MISS BREWSTER’S DIARY. For the first time since the lawyer’s call a week ago I sit down to collect my wits after this whirl of excitement, and, like the old woman in the nursery rhyme, ask myself if it can be that I am really I. I am frightfully tired, and it may be childish to write this all out for no one’s eye but my own. I cannot sleep, however, and I feel as if it would be a relief and might cool the fever in my veins to calmly make a record of some of the momentous events of these last few days. So many things are crowding upon me that I fear my mind will be a chaos if I do not attempt something like this to help me to quiet and arrange my thoughts. When Mr. Kilrain came with the cablegram and letters, I neither laughed nor cried nor fainted. I was perfectly calm. I did not realize it in the least, just as a girl never realizes what it all means when she kneels before the altar as a bride, or when she stands beside the dead white face that she has loved.