Page:Wanderings of a Pilgrim Vol 1.djvu/389

 I have not heard from home for six months, heart-sick with hope deferred. These tardy ships! Will the steam communication ever be established?

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the bones."

"I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away this life of care, Which I have borne, and still must bear."

When shall I feel energy enough to mount my horse again? for three months I have been unable to ride. Nothing is going forward, stupid as possible, shut up all day, languid and weary: this India is a vile country!

"The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and no man interfereth with its joys."

Woe is me that I sojourn in this land of pestilence, that I dwell afar from the home of my fathers!