usiastic or heroic, of pleasure in the
sacrifice; I have nothing to support me here.

"What keeps me yet is what has kept me long; a fear that I am under a
delusion; but the conviction remains firm under all circumstances, in
all frames of mind. And this most serious feeling is growing on me; viz.
that the reasons for which I believe as much as our system teaches,
_must_ lead me to believe more, and that not to believe more is to fall
back into scepticism.

"A thousand thanks for your most kind and consoling letter; though I
have not yet spoken of it, it was a great gift."

[18] Vide supr. p. 219, &c. Letter of Oct. 14, 1843, compared with that
of Oct. 25.

Shortly after I wrote to the same friend thus: "My intention is, if
nothing comes upon me, which I cannot foresee, to remain quietly _in
statu quo_ for a considerable time, trusting that my friends will kindly
remember me and my trial in their prayers. And I should give up my
fellowship some time before any thing further took place."

There was a lady, now a nun of the Visitation, to whom at this time I
wrote the following letters:--

1. "November 7, 1844. I am still where I was; I am not moving. Two
things, however, seem plain, that every one is prepared for such an
event, next, that every one expects it of me. Few, indeed, who do not
think it suitable, fewer still, who do not think it likely. However, I
do not think it either suitable or likely. I have very little reason to
doubt about the issue of things, but the when and the how are known to
Him, from whom, I trust, both the course of things and the issue come.
The expression of opinion, and the latent and habitual feeling about me,
which is on every side and among all parties, has great force. I insist
upon it, because I have a great dread of going by my own feelings, lest
they should mislead me. By one's sense of duty one must go; but external
facts support one in doing so."

2. "January 8, 1845. What am I to say in answer to your letter? I know
perfectly well, I ought to let you know more of my feelings and state of
mind than you do know. But how is that possible in a few words? Any
thing I say must be abrupt; nothing can I say which will not leave a
bewildering feeling, as needing so much to explain it, and being
isolated, and (as it were) unlocated, and not having any thing with it
to show its bearings upon other parts of the subject.

"At present, my full belief is, in accordance with your letter,