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It was a summer afternoon； and； being now left very free in my movements； I had escaped from going out with the rest of my school…fellows in their formal walk in charge of an usher。 I had been reading a good deal of poetry； but my heart had translated Apollo and Bacchus into terms of exalted Christian faith。 I was alone； and I lay on a sofa； drawn across a large open window at the top of the school…house； in a room which was used as a study by the boys who were 'going up for examination'。 I gazed down on a labyrinth of garden sloping to the sea； which twinkled faintly beyond the towers of the town。 Each of these gardens held a villa in it； but all the near landscape below me was drowned in foliage。 A wonderful warm light of approaching sunset modelled the shadows and set the broad summits of the trees in a rich glow。 There was an absolute silence below and around me； a magic of suspense seemed to keep every topmost twig from waving。
Over my soul there swept an immense wave of emotion。 Now； surely； now the great final change must be approaching。 I gazed up into the tenderly…coloured sky； and I broke irresistibly into speech。 'Come now； Lord Jesus；' I cried； 'come now and take me to be for ever with Thee in Thy Paradise。 I am ready to come。 My heart is purged from sin； there is nothing that keeps me rooted to this wicked world。 Oh； come now； now； and take me before I have known the temptations of life； before I have to go to London and all the dreadful things that happen there！' And I raised myself on the sofa； and leaned upon the window…sill； and waited for the glorious apparition。
This was the highest moment of my religious life； the apex of my striving after holiness。 I waited awhile； watching； and then I felt a faint shame at the theatrical attitude I had adopted； although I was alone。 Still I gazed and still I hoped。 Then a little breeze sprang up and the branches danced。 Sounds began to rise from the road beneath me。 Presently the colour deepened； the evening came on。 From far below there rose to me the chatter of the boys returning home。 The teabell rang；last word of prose to shatter my mystical poetry。 'The Lord has not come； the Lord will never come；' I muttered； and in my heart the artificial edifice of extravagant faith began to totter and crumble。 From that moment forth my Father and I； though the fact was long successfully concealed from him and even from myself； walked in opposite hemispheres of the soul； with 'the thick o' the world between us'。
EPILOGUE
THIS narrative； however； must not be allowed to close with the Son in the foreground of the piece。 If it has a value； that value consists in what light it may contrive to throw upon the unique and noble figure of the Father。 With the advance of years； the characteristics of this figure became more severely outlined； more rigorously confined within settled limits。 In relation to the Sonwho presently departed； at a very immature age； for the new life in Londonthe attitude of the Father continued to be one of extreme solicitude； deepening by degrees into disappointment and disenchantment。 He abated no jot or tittle of his demands upon human frailty。 He kept the spiritual cord drawn tight； the Biblical bearingrein was incessantly busy； jerking into position the head of the dejected neophyte。 That young soul； removed from the Father's personal inspection； began to blossom forth crudely and irregularly enough； into new provinces of thought； through fresh layers of experience。 To the painful mentor at home in the West； the centre of anxiety was still the meek and docile heart； dedicated to the Lord's service； which must； at all hazards and with all defiance of the rules of life； be kept unspotted from the world。
The torment of a postal inquisition began directly I was settled in my London lodgings。 To my Fatherwith his ample leisure； his palpitating apprehension； his ready penthe flow of correspondence offered no trouble at all； it was a grave but gratifying occupation。 To me the almost daily letter of exhortation； with its string of questions about conduct； its series of warnings； grew to be a burden which could hardly be borne； particularly because it involved a reply as punctual and if possible as full as itself。 At the age of seventeen； the metaphysics of the soul are shadowy； and it is a dreadful thing to be forced to define the exact outline of what is so undulating and so shapeless。 To my Father there seemed no reason why I should hesitate to give answers of full metallic ring to his hard and oft…repeated questions； but to me this correspondence was torture。 When I feebly expostulated； when I begged to be left a little to myself； these appeals of mine automatically stimulated； and indeed blew up into fierce flames； the ardour of my Father's alarm。
The letter； the only too…confidently expected letter； would lie on the table as I descended to breakfast。 It would commonly be； of course； my only letter； unless tempered by a cosy and chatty note from my dear and comfortable stepmother； dealing with such perfectly tranquillizing subjects as the harvest of roses in the garden or the state of health of various neighbours。 But the other； the solitary letter； in its threatening whiteness； with its exquisitely penned addressthere it would lie awaiting me； destroying the taste of the bacon； reducing the flavour of the tea to insipidity。 I might fatuously dally with it； I might pretend not to observe it； but there it lay。 Before the morning's exercise began； I knew that it had to be read； and what was worse； that it had to be answered。 Useless the effort to conceal from myself what it contained。 Like all its precursors； like all its followers； it would insist； with every variety of appeal； on a reiterated declaration that I still fully intended； as in the days of my earliest childhood； 'to be on the Lord's side' in everything。
In my replies； I would sometimes answer precisely as I was desired to answer； sometimes I would evade the queries； and write about other things； sometimes I would turn upon the tormentor； and urge that my tender youth might be let alone。 It little mattered what form of weakness I put forth by way of baffling my Father's direct； firm； unflinching strength。 To an appeal against the bondage of a correspondence of such unbroken solemnity I would receivewith what a paralysing promptitude！such a reply as this：
Let me say that the 'solemnity' you complain of has only been the expression of tender anxiousness of a father's heart； that his only child； just turned out upon the world； and very far out of his sight and hearing； should be walking in God's way。 Recollect that it is not now as it was when you were at school； when we had personal communication with you at intervals of five days we now know absolutely nothing of you； save from your letters； and if they do not indicate your spiritual prosperity； the deepest solicitudes of our hearts have nothing to feed on。 But I will try henceforth to trust you； and lay aside my fears； for you are worthy of my confidence； and your own God and your father's God will hold you with His right hand。
Over such letters as these I am not ashamed to say that I sometimes wept； the old paper I have just bee