His religious life seems to have commenced almost in infancy. His childhood and youth were marked by a sober bearing, a precocious thoughtfulness, and a love of solitude, which made many notice him; and it was proposed to make him a clergyman. Accordingly, Nathaniel Stevens, the parish priest, seems to have regarded him hopefully, until his deepening experience made the youth aware how blind his guide was, when the former friend became a bitter persecutor. But as some of George's friends objected to his entering the church, he became, in the mingling of businesses so common in that day, shoemaker and shepherd, excelling in the latter contemplative employment, which his friend, William Penn, regards as a fit emblem of his future work. Though he had received only the plainest English education, yet the keen cravings of his strong mind, together with his earnest Bible-reading and much careful thought, soon made him at home in Christian truth, the great topic of conversation and theme of discussion in that age. A noble, severe truthfulness foreshadowed his future teachings, and indicated the stamp of the man. It "kept him to yea and nay," refusing all asseveration or other strengthening of his statements, excepting his favourite "verily." But people remarked that if George said "verily" it was impossible to move him. His own strict and pure life made him feel keenly the poor living of some who made great professions. But his great preparation for his future work was soon to begin. In his 20th year, his soul began to be racked with conflicts, the nature and source of which he could not understand. This crisis in Fox's history is generally spoken of as his conversion. In some respects it resembles more the deepening and intensifying of a life which already existed. His spiritual nature was waking up to vigorous life. The slight and ill-grasped views which had satisfied the boy did not satisfy the man. They seemed to give no real and sufficient answer to his questionings. He wanted to understand the meaning of life, the plans of God, and his own part in them. In religion he felt that there should be the clearest and strongest mental grasp, insight into the very heart and core of things. He had only seen as in a mist. Where was the seer that could show, by his apt and living words and his accent of conviction, that the veil had been lifted up for him, and that he had verily seen the Shekinah? To such a one he would listen reverently if he could find him; all others seemed mere triflers to his earnest mood. Then again, if God was a real Father, he felt that real and close relations with him must be possible, but he sadly owned that he did not enjoy those relations, and asked himself and others "Why am I thus?" He began to look facts intently in the face, to find out their meaning. He looked at himself and saw only sin; he looked into the professing church, and even there saw the same sad sight. It made him ask, was the gospel a