The language in which we are speaking is his before it is mine. How different are the words HOME$$$ CHRIST$$$ ALE$$$ MASTER$$$ on his lips and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words without unrest of spirit. His language$$$ so familiar and so foreign$$$ will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of his language.