danger that lurked in brilliant brains, and the
inability of brilliant brains to atone for lack of experience. The
meeting had its cue. Young man after young man arose to snub Bishop
Colenso, to hope charitably that Bishop Colenso was sincere, and to
insist that no Bishop Colenso should lead him to the awful abyss of
polygamy, and that no Bishop Colenso should deprive him of that unique
incentive to righteousness--the doctrine of an everlasting burning hell.
Moses was put on his legs again as a serious historian, and the subject
of the resolution utterly lost to view. The Chairman then remarked that
his impartial role forbade him to support either side, and the voting
showed fourteen against one. They all sang the Doxology, and the
Chairman pronounced a benediction. The fourteen forgave the one, as one
who knew not what he did; but their demeanour rather too patently showed
that they were forgiving under difficulty; and that it would be as well
that this kind of youthful temerariousness was not practised too often.
Edwin, in the language of the district, was `sneaped.' Wondering what
on earth he after all had said to raise such an alarm, he nevertheless
did not feel resentful, only very depressed--about the debate and about
other things. He knew in his heart that for him attendance at the
meetings of the Young Men's Debating Society was ridiculous.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SIX.

He allowed all the rest to precede him from the room. When he was alone
he smiled sheepishly, and also disdainfully; he knew that the chasm
between himself and the others was a real chasm, and not a figment of
his childish diffidence, as he had sometimes suspected it to be. Then
he turned the gas out. A beautiful faint silver surged through the
window. While the debate was in progress, the sun had been going about
its business of the dawn, unperceived.

"I shall write a letter!" he kept saying to himself. "He'll never let
me explain myself properly if I start talking. I shall write a letter.
I can write a very good letter, and he'll be bound to take notice of it.
He'll never be able to get over my letter."

In the school-yard daylight reigned. The debaters had already
disappeared. Trafalgar Road and Duck Bank were empty and silent under
rosy clouds. Instead of going straight home Edwin went past the Town
Hall and through the Market Place to the Sytch Pottery. Astounding that