I feel guilty every time I read. I wonder what the
little lady of the devotional eyes would say if she knew that I am a
miserable hypocrite, preaching that which I do not practise, exhorting
others to believe those marvels which I do not believe? I am a coward
not to throw off the saintly mask, and appear as a Freethinker. Yet, am
I a coward? I urge upon myself that it is for the glory of God I hold
my peace. The scandal of a priest turned infidel would do more harm
than the reign of reason would do good. Imagine this trustful woman for
instance--she would suffer anguish at the thoughts of such a sin, though
another were the sinner. "If anyone offend one of these little ones it
were better for him that a millstone be hanged about his neck and
that he be cast into the sea." Yet truth is truth, and should be
spoken--should it not, malignant monitor, who remindest me how often I
fail to speak it? Surely among all his army of black-coats our worthy
Bishop must have some men like me, who cannot bring their reason to
believe in things contrary to the experience of mankind and the laws of
nature.

March 22nd.--This unromantic Captain Frere had had some romantic
incidents in his life, and he is fond of dilating upon them. It seems
that in early life he expected to have been left a large fortune by an
uncle who had quarrelled with his heir. But the uncle dies on the day
fixed for the altering of the will, the son disappears, and is thought
to be drowned. The widow, however, steadfastly refuses to believe in
any report of the young man's death, and having a life-interest in the
property, holds it against all comers. My poor host in consequence comes
out here on his pay, and, three years ago, just as he is hoping that the
death of his aunt may give him opportunity to enforce a claim as next
of kin to some portion of the property, the long-lost son returns,
is recognized by his mother and the trustees, and installed in due
heirship! The other romantic story is connected with Frere's marriage.
He told me after dinner to-night how his wife had been wrecked when a
child, and how he had saved her life, and defended her from the rude
hands of an escaped convict--one of the monsters our monstrous system
breeds. "That was how we fell in love," said he, tossing off his wine
complacently.

"An auspicious opportunity," said I. To which he nodded. He is not
overburdened with brains, I fancy. Let me see if I can set down some
account of thi