God may yet give me the spirit for which I assure you I

have been and am continual y praying, but He may not, and in that case would it not be better for me to try and look out for something else?

I know that neither you nor John wish me to go into your business, nor do I understand anything about money matters, but is there nothing

else that I can do? I do not like to ask you to maintain me while I go in for medicine or the bar; but when I get my fel owship, which should not be long first, I wil endeavour to cost you nothing

further, and I might make a little money by writing or taking pupils. I trust you wil not think this letter improper; nothing is further from my wish than to cause you any uneasiness. I hope you wil make al owance for my present feelings which, indeed, spring from nothing but from that respect for my conscience which no one has so often instil ed into me as yourself. Pray let me have a few lines shortly. I hope your cold is better. With love to Eliza and Maria, I am, your affectionate son, "THEOBALD PONTIFEX." "Dear Theobald,--I can enter into your feelings and have no wish to

quarrel with your expression of them. It is quite right and natural that you should feel as you do except as regards one passage, the impropriety of which you wil yourself doubtless feel upon reflection, and to which I wil not further al ude than to say that it has wounded me. You should not have said 'in spite of my scholarships.' It was

only proper that if you could do anything to assist me in bearing the Page 20

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heavy burden of your education, the money should be, as it was, made over to myself. Every line in your letter convinces me that you are under the influence of a morbid sensitiveness which is one of the devil's favourite devices for luring people to their destruction. I have, as you say, been at great expense with your education. Nothing has been spared by me to give you the advantages, which, as an English gentleman, I was anxious to afford my son, but I am not prepared to

see that expense thrown away and to have to begin again from the beginning, merely because you have taken some foolish scruples into your head, which you should resist as no less unjust to yourself than to me. "Don't give way to that restless desire for change which is the bane of so many persons of both sexes at the present day. "Of course you needn't be ordained: nobody wil compel you; you are

perfectly free; you are twenty-three years of age, and should know your own mind; but why not have known it sooner, instead of never so much as breathing a hint of opposition until I have had al the

expense of sending you to the University, which I should never have done unless I had believed you to have made up your mind about taking orders? I have letters from you in which you express the most perfect wil ingness to be ordained, and your brother and sisters wil bear me out in saying that no pressure of any sort has been put upon you. You mistake your own mind, and are suffering from a nervous timidity which may be very natural but may not the less be pregnant with serious

consequences to yourself. I am not at al wel , and the anxiety

occasioned by your letter is natural y preying upon me. May God guide you to a better judgement.--Your affectionate father, G. PONTIFEX."On the receipt of this letter Theobald plucked up his spirits. "My

father," he said to himself, "tel s me I need not be ordained if I do not like. I do not like, and therefore I wil not be ordained. But what was the meaning of the words 'pregnant with serious consequences to

yourself'? Did there lurk a threat under these words--though it was impossible to lay hold of it or of them? Were they not intended to produce al the effect of a threat without being actual y threatening?"Theobald knew his father wel enough to be little likely to misapprehend

his meaning, but having ventured so far on the path of opposition, and being real y anxious to get out of being ordained if he could, he determined to venture farther. He accordingly wrote the fol owing: "My dear father,--You tel me--and I heartily thank you--that no one

wil compel me to be ordained. I knew you would not press ordination upon me if my conscience was seriously opposed to it; I have therefore resolved on giving up the idea, and believe that if you wil continue

to al ow me what you do at present, until I get my fel owship, which should not be long, I wil then cease putting you to further expense. I wil make up my mind as soon as possible what profession I wil adopt, and wil let you know at once.--Your affectionate son, THEOBALD

PONTIFEX."The remaining letter, written by return of post, must now be given. It has the merit of brevity. "Dear Theobald,--I have received yours. I am at a loss to conceive its motive, but am very clear as to its effect. You shal not receive a single sixpence from me til you come to your senses. Should you persist in your fol y and wickedness, I am happy to remember that I have yet other children whose conduct I can depend upon to be a source Page 21

Butler, Samuel: The Way of All Flesh

of credit and happiness to me.--Your affectionate but troubled father, G. PONTIFEX."I do not know the immediate sequel to the foregoing correspondence, but it al came perfectly right in the end. Either Theobald's heart failed

him, or he interpreted the outward shove which his father gave him, as the inward cal for which I have no doubt he prayed with great

earnestness--for he was a firm believer in the efficacy of prayer.