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Over such letters as these I am not ashamed to say that I sometimes wept； the old paper I have just been copying shows traces of tears shed upon it more than forty years ago； tears commingled of despair at my own feebleness； distraction； at my want of will； pity for my Father's manifest and pathetic distress。 He would 'try henceforth to trust' me； he said。 Alas！ the effort would be in vain； after a day or two； after a hollow attempt to write of other things； the importunate subject would recur； there would intrude again the inevitable questions about the Atonement and the Means of Grace； the old anxious fears lest I was 'yielding' my intimacy to agreeable companions who were not 'one with me in Christ'； fresh passionate entreaties to be assured； in every letter； that I was walking in the clear light of God's presence。
It seems to me now profoundly strange； although I knew too little of the world to remark it at the time； that these incessant exhortations dealt； not with conduct； but with faith。 Earlier in this narrative I have noted how disdainfully； with what an austere pride； my Father refused to entertain the subject of personal shortcomings in my behaviour。 There were enough of them to blame； Heaven knows； but he was too lofty…minded a gentleman to dwell upon them； and； though by nature deeply suspicious of the possibility of frequent moral lapses； even in the very elect； he refused to stoop to anything like espionage。
I owe him a deep debt of gratitude for his beautiful faith in me in this respect； and now that I was alone in London； at this tender time of life； 'exposed'； as they say； to all sorts of dangers； as defenceless as a fledgling that has been turned out of its nest； yet my Father did not； in his uplifted Quixotism； allow himself to fancy me guilty of any moral misbehaviour； but concentrated his fears entirely upon my faith。
'Let me know more of your inner light。 Does the candle of the Lord shine on your soul？' This would be the ceaseless inquiry。 Or； again； 'Do you get any spiritual companionship with young men？ You passed over last Sunday without even a word； yet this day is the most interesting to me in your whole week。 Do you find the ministry of the Word pleasant； and； above all； profitable？ Does it bring your soul into exercise before God？ The Coming of Christ draweth nigh。 Watch； therefore and pray always； that you may be counted worthy to stand before the Son of Man。'
If I quote such passages as this from my Father's letters to me； it is not that I seek entertainment in a contrast between his earnestness and the casuistical inattention and provoked distractedness of a young man to whom the real world now offered its irritating and stimulating scenes of animal and intellectual life； but to call out sympathy； and perhaps wonder； at the spectacle of so blind a Roman firmness as my Father's spiritual attitude displayed。
His aspirations were individual and metaphysical。 At the present hour； so complete is the revolution which has overturned the puritanism of which he was perhaps the latest surviving type； that all classes of religious persons combine in placing philanthropic activity； the objective attitude； in the foreground。 It is extraordinary how far…reaching the change has been； so that nowadays a religion which does not combine with its subjective faith a strenuous labour for the good of others is hardly held to possess any religious principle worth proclaiming。
This propaganda of beneficence； this constant attention to the moral and physical improvement of persons who have been neglected； is quite recent as a leading feature of religion； though indeed it seems to have formed some part of the Saviour's original design。 It was unknown to the great preachers of the seventeenth century； whether Catholic or Protestant； and it offered but a shadowy attraction to my Father； who was the last of their disciples。 When Bossuet desired his hearers to listen to the cri de misere l'entour de nous； qui devrait nous fondre le coeur； he started a new thing in the world of theology。 We may search the famous 'Rule and Exercises of Holy Living' from cover to cover； and not learn that Jeremy Taylor would have thought that any activity of the district…visitor or the Salvation lassie came within the category of saintliness。
My Father； then； like an old divine； concentrated on thoughts upon the intellectual part of faith。 In his obsession about me； he believed that if my brain could be kept unaffected by any of the seductive errors of the age； and my heart centred in the adoring love of God； all would be well with me in perpetuity。 He was still convinced that by intensely directing my thoughts； he could compel them to flow in a certain channel； since he had not begun to learn the lesson； so mournful for saintly men of his complexion； that 'virtue would not be virtue； could it be given by one fellow creature to another'。 He had recognized； with reluctance； that holiness was not hereditary； but he continued to hope that it might be compulsive。 I was still 'the child of many prayers'； and it was not to be conceded that these prayers could remain unanswered。
The great panacea was now； as always； the study of the Bible； and this my Father never ceased to urge upon me。 He presented to me a copy of Dean Alford's edition of the Greek New Testament； in four great volumes； and these he had had so magnificently bound in full morocco that the work shone on my poor shelf of sixpenny poets like a duchess among dairy maids。 He extracted from me a written promise that I would translate and meditate upon a portion of the Greek text every morning before I started for business。 This promise I presently failed to keep； my good intentions being undermined by an invincible ennui； I concealed the dereliction from him； and the sense that I was deceiving my Father ate into my conscience like a canker。 But the dilemma was now before me that I must either deceive my Father in such things or paralyse my own character。
My growing distaste for the Holy Scriptures began to occupy my thoughts； and to surprise as much as it scandalized me。 My desire was to continue to delight in those sacred pages； for which I still had an instinctive veneration。 Yet I could not but observe the difference between the zeal with which I snatched at a volume of Carlyle or Ruskinsince these magicians were now first revealing themselves to meand the increasing languor with which I took up Alford for my daily 'passage'。 Of course； although I did not know it； and believed my reluctance to be sinful； the real reason why I now found the Bible so difficult to read was my familiarity with its contents。 These had the colourless triteness of a story retold a hundred times。 I longed for something new； something that would gratify curiosity and excite surprise。 Whether the facts and doctrines contained in the Bible were true or false was not the question that appealed to me； it was rather that they had been presented to me so often and had sunken into me so far that； as someone has said； they 'lay bedridden in the dormitory of the soul'； and made no impression of any kind upon me。
It often amazed me； and I am still unable to understand the fact； that my Father；