ce　on　our　drawing…room　wall。
  But　still　I　had　never　seen　a　subject…picture；　although　my　stepmother　used　to　talk　of　the　joys　of　the　Royal　Academy；　and　it　was　therefore　with　a　considerable　sense　of　excitement　that　I　went；　with　my　Father；　to　examine　Mr。　Holman　Hunt's　Finding　of　Christ　in　the　Temple'　which　at　this　time　was　announced　to　be　on　public　show　at　our　neighbouring　town。　We　paid　our　shillings　and　ascended　with　others　to　an　upper　room；　bare　of　every　disturbing　object；　in　which　a　strong　top…light　raked　the　large　and　uncompromising　picture。　We　looked　at　it　for　some　time　in　silence；　and　then　my　Father　pointed　out　to　me　various　details；　such　as　the　phylacteries　and　the　mitres；　and　the　robes　which　distinguished　the　high　priest。
  Some　of　the　other　visitors；　as　I　recollect；　expressed　astonishment　and　dislike　of　what　they　called　the　'Preraphaelite'　treatment；　but　we　were　not　affected　by　that。　Indeed；　if　anything；　the　exact；　minute　and　hard　execution　of　Mr。　Hunt　was　in　sympathy　with　the　methods　we　ourselves　were　in　the　habit　of　using　when　we　painted　butterflies　and　seaweeds；　placing　perfectly　pure　pigments　side　by　side；　without　any　nonsense　about　chiaroscuro。　This　large；　bright；　comprehensive　picture　made　a　very　deep　impression　upon　me；　not　exactly　as　a　work　of　art；　but　as　a　brilliant　natural　specimen。　I　was　pleased　to　have　seen　it；　as　I　was　pleased　to　have　seen　the　comet；　and　the　whale　which　was　brought　to　our　front　door　on　a　truck。　It　was　a　prominent　addition　to　my　experience。
  The　slender　expansions　of　my　interest　which　were　now　budding　hither　and　thither　do　not　seem　to　have　alarmed　my　Father　at　all。　His　views　were　short；　if　I　appeared　to　be　contented　and　obedient；　if　I　responded　pleasantly　when　he　appealed　to　me；　he　was　not　concerned　to　discover　the　source　of　my　cheerfulness。　He　put　it　down　to　my　happy　sense　of　joy　in　Christ；　a　reflection　of　the　sunshine　of　grace　beaming　upon　me　through　no　intervening　clouds　of　sin　or　doubt。　The　'saints'　were；　as　a　rule；　very　easy　to　comprehend；　their　emotions　lay　upon　the　surface。　If　they　were　gay；　it　was　because　they　had　no　burden　on　their　consciences；　while；　if　they　were　depressed；　the　symptom　might　be　depended　upon　as　showing　that　their　consciences　were　troubling　them；　and　if　they　were　indifferent　and　cold；　it　was　certain　that　they　were　losing　their　faith　and　becoming　hostile　to　godliness。　It　was　almost　a　mechanical　matter　with　these　simple　souls。　But；　although　I　was　so　much　younger；　I　was　more　complex　and　more　crafty　than　the　peasant　'saints'。　My　Father；　not　a　very　subtle　psychologist；　applied　to　me　the　same　formulas　which　served　him　well　at　the　chapel；　but　in　my　case　the　results　were　less　uniformly　successful。
  The　excitement　of　school…life　and　the　enlargement　of　my　circle　of　interests；　combined　to　make　Sunday；　by　contrast；　a　very　tedious　occasion。　The　absence　of　every　species　of　recreation　on　the　Lord's　Day　grew　to　be　a　burden　which　might　scarcely　be　borne。　I　have　said　that　my　freedom　during　the　week　had　now　become　considerable；　if　I　was　at　home　punctually　at　meal　times；　the　rest　of　my　leisure　was　not　challenged。　But　this　liberty；　which　in　the　summer　holidays　came　to　surpass　that　of　'fishes　that　tipple　in　the　deep'；　was　put　into　more　and　more　painful　contrast　with　the　unbroken　servitude　of　Sunday。
  My　Father　objected　very　strongly　to　the　expression　Sabbath…day；　as　it　is　commonly　used　by　Presbyterians　and　others。　He　said；　quite　justly；　that　it　was　an　inaccurate　modern　innovation；　that　Sabbath　was　Saturday；　the　Seventh　day　of　the　week；　not　the　first；　a　Jewish　festival　and　not　a　Christian　commemoration。　Yet　his　exaggerated　view　with　regard　to　the　observance　of　the　First　Day；　namely；　that　it　must　be　exclusively　occupied　with　public　and　private　exercises　of　divine　worship；　was　based　much　more　upon　a　Jewish　than　upon　a　Christian　law。　In　fact；　I　do　not　remember　that　my　Father　ever　produced　a　definite　argument　from　the　New　Testament　in　support　of　his　excessive　passivity　on　the　Lord's　Day。　He　followed　the　early　Puritan　practice；　except　that　he　did　not　extend　his　observance；　as　I　believe　the　old　Puritans　did；　from　sunset　on　Saturday　to　sunset　on　Sunday。
  The　observance　of　the　Lord's　Day　has　already　become　universally　so　lax　that　I　think　there　may　be　some　value　in　preserving　an　accurate　record　of　how　our　Sundays　were　spent　five　and　forty　years　ago。　We　came　down　to　breakfast　at　the　usual　time。　My　Father　prayed　briefly　before　we　began　the　meal；　after　it；　the　bell　was　rung；　and；　before　the　breakfast　was　cleared　away；　we　had　a　lengthy　service　of　exposition　and　prayer　with　the　servants。　If　the　weather　was　fine；　we　then　walked　about　the　garden；　doing　nothing；　for　about　half　an　hour。　We　then　sat；　each　in　a　separate　room；　with　our　Bibles　open　and　some　commentary　on　the　text　beside　us；　and　prepared　our　minds　for　the　morning　service。　A　little　before　11　a。m。　we　sallied　forth；　carrying　our　Bibles　and　hymn…　books；　and　went　through　the　morning…service　of　two　hours　at　the　Room；　this　was　the　central　event　of　Sunday。
  We　then　came　back　to　dinner；curiously　enough　to　a　hot　dinner；　always；　with　a　joint；　vegetables　and　puddings；　so　that　the　cook　at　least　must　have　been　busily　at　work；and　after　it　my　Father　and　my　stepmother　took　a　nap；　each　in　a　different　room；　while　I　slipped　out　into　the　garden　for　a　little　while；　but　never　venturing　farther　afield。　In　the　middle　of　the　afternoon；　my　stepmother　and　I　proceeded　up　the　village　to　Sunday　School；　where　I　was　early　promoted　to　the　tuition　of　a　few　very　little　boys。　We　returned　in　time　for　tea；　immediately　after　which　we　all　marched　forth；　again　armed　as　in　the　morning；　with　Bibles　and　hymn…books；　and　we　went　though　the　evening…service；　at　which　my　Father　preached。　The　hour　was　now　already　past　my　weekday　bedtime；　but　we　had　another　service　to　attend；　the　Believers'　Prayer　Meeting；　which　commonly　occupied　forty　minutes　more。　Then　we　used　to　creep　home；　I　often　so　tired　that　the　weariness　was　like　physical　pain；　and　I　was　permitted；　without　further　'worship'；　to　slip　upstairs　to　bed。
  What　made　these　Sundays；　the　observance　of　which　was　absolutely　uniform；　so　peculiarly　trying　was　that　I　was　not　permitted　the　indulgence　of　any　secular　respite。　I　might　not　open　a　scientific　book；　nor　make　a　drawing；　nor　examine　a　specimen。　I　was　not　allowed　to　go　into　the　road；　except　to　proceed　with　my　parents　to　the　Room；　nor　to　discuss　worldly　subjects　at　meals；　nor　to　enter　the　little　chamber　where　I　kept　my　treasures。　I　was　hotly　and　tightly　dressed　in　black；　all　day　long；　as　though　ready　at　any　moment　to　attend　a　funeral　with　decorum。　Sometimes；　towards　evening；　I　used　to　feel　the　monotony　and　weariness　of　my　position　to　be　almost　unendurable；　but　at　this　time　I　was　meek；　and　I　bowed　to　what　I　supposed　to　be　the　order　of　the　universe。
  CHAPTER　XI
  As　my　mental　horizon　widened；　my　Father　followed　the　direction　of　my　spiritual　eyes　with　some　bewilderment；　and　knew　not　at　what　I　gazed。　Nor　could　I　have　put　into　words；　nor　can　I　even　now　define；　the　visions　which　held　my　vague　and　timid　attention。　As　a　child　develops；　those　who　regard　it　with　tenderness　or　impatience　are　seldom　even　approximately　correct　in　their　analysis　of　its　intellectual　movements；　largely　because；　if　there　is　anything　to　record；　it　defies　adult　definition。　One　curious　freak　of　mentality　I　must　now　mention；　because　it　took　a　considerable　part　in　the　enfranchisement　of　my　mind；　or　rather　in　the　formation　of　my　thinking　habits。　But　neither　my　Father　nor　my　stepmother　knew　what　to　make　of　it；　and　to　tell　the　truth　I　hardly　know　what　to　make　of　it　myself。
  Among　the　books　which　my　new　mother　had　brought　with　her　were　certain　editions　of　the　poets；　an　odd　assortment。　Campbell　was　there；　and　Burns；　and　Keats；　and　the　'Tales'　of　Byron。　Each　of　these　might　have　been　expected　to　appeal　to　me；　but　my　emotion　was　too　young；　and　I　did　not　listen　to　them　yet。　Their　imperative　voices　called　me　later。　By　the　side　of　these　romantic　classics　stood　a　small；　thick　volume；　bound　in　black　morocco；　and　comprising　four　reprinted　works　of　the　eighteenth　century；　gloomy；　funereal　poems　of　an　order　as　wholly　out　of　date　as　are　the　crossbones　and　ruffled　cherubim　on　the　gravestones　in　a　country　churchyard。　The　fourand　in　this　order；　as　I　never　shall　forgetwere　'The　Last　Day'　of　Dr　Young；　Blair's　'Grave'；　'Death'　by　Bishop　Beilby　Porteus；　and　'The　Deity'　of　Samuel　Boyse。　These　lugubrious　effusions；　all　in　blank　verse　or　in　the　heroic　couplet；　represented；　in　its　most　redundant　form；　the　artistic　theology　of　the　middle　of　the　eighteenth　century。　They　were　steeped　in　such　vengeful　and　hortatory　sentiments　as　passed　for　elegant　piety　in　the　reign　of　George　II。
  How　I　came　to　open　this　solemn　volume　is　explained　by　the　oppressive　exclusiveness　of　our　Sundays。　On　the　afternoon　of　the　Lord's　Day；　as　I　have　already　explained；　I　might　neither　walk；　nor　talk；　nor　explore　our　scientific　library；　nor　indulge　in　furious　feats　of　water…colour　painting。　The　Plymouth…Brother　theology　which　alone　was　open　to　me　produced；　at　length；　and　particularly　on　hot　afternoons；　a　faint　physical　nausea；　a　kind　of　secret　headache。　But；　hitting　one　day　upon　the　doleful　book　of　verses；　and　observing　its　religious　character；　I　asked　'May　I　read　that？'　and　after　a　bri