and seldom seemed to find anything to trouble him.' In 1869 his
father carried him to England, Mrs. Murray and a child remaining in
America. For more than a year the boy lived with kinsfolk near Kelso,
the beautiful old town on the Tweed where Scott passed some of his
childish days. In 1871 the family were reunited at York, where he was
fond of attending the services in the Cathedral. Mr. Murray then took
charge of the small Unitarian chapel of Blackfriars, at Canterbury. Thus
Murray's early youth was passed in the mingled influences of Unitarianism
at home, and of Cathedral services at York, and in the church where
Becket suffered martyrdom. A not unnatural result was a somewhat
eclectic and unconstrained religion. He thought but little of the
differences of creed, believing that all good men held, in essentials,
much the same faith. His view of essentials was generous, as he
admitted. He occasionally spoke of himself as 'sceptical,' that is, in
contrast with those whose faith was more definite, more dogmatic, more
securely based on 'articles.' To illustrate Murray's religious attitude,
at least as it was in 1887, one may quote from a letter of that year
(April 17).

'There was a University sermon, and I thought I would go and hear it.
So I donned my old cap and gown and felt quite proud of them. The
preacher was Bishop Wordsworth. He goes in for the union of the
Presbyterian and Episcopalian Churches, and is glad to preach in a
Presbyterian Church, as he did this morning. How the aforesaid Union
is to be brought about, I'm sure I don't know, for I am pretty certain
that the Episcopalians won't give up their bishops, and the
Presbyterians won't have them on any account. However, that's neither
here nor there--at least it does not affect the fact that Wordsworth
is a first-rate man, and a fine preacher. I dare say you know he is a
nephew or grand-nephew of the Poet. He is a most venerable old man,
and worth looking at, merely for his exterior. He is so feeble with
age that he can with difficulty climb the three short steps that lead
into the pulpit; but, once in the pulpit, it is another thing. There
is no feebleness when he begins to preach. He is one of the last
voices of the old orthodox school, and I wish there were hundreds like
him. If ever a man believed in his message, Wordsworth does. And
though I cannot follow him in his veneration for t