ntiments, I have long been
aware. The time and mode has been in the hand of Providence; I do not
mean to exclude my own great imperfections in bringing it about; yet I
still feel obliged to think the Tract necessary."

The second is taken from the notes of a letter which I sent to Dr. Pusey
in the next year:

"October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with Ward, I do not know the
limits of my own opinions. If Ward says that this or that is a
development from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It is
plausible, it _may_ be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church
_has_ so developed and maintained, adds great weight to the antecedent
plausibility. I cannot assert that it is not true; but I cannot, with
that keen perception which some people have, appropriate it. It is a
nuisance to me to be _forced_ beyond what I can fairly accept."

* * * * *

There was another source of the perplexity with which at this time I was
encompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which that
perplexity gained for me the credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world
would not let me alone; they pursued me in the public journals to
Littlemore. Reports of all kinds were circulated about me. "Imprimis,
why did I go up to Littlemore at all? For no good purpose certainly; I
dared not tell why." Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be
obliged to say to the Editors of newspapers that I went up there to say
my prayers; it was hard to have to tell the world in confidence, that I
had a certain doubt about the Anglican system, and could not at that
moment resolve it, or say what would come of it; it was hard to have to
confess that I had thought of giving up my Living a year or two before,
and that this was a first step to it. It was hard to have to plead,
that, for what I knew, my doubts would vanish, if the newspapers would
be so good as to give me time and let me alone. Who would ever dream of
making the world his confidant? yet I was considered insidious, sly,
dishonest, if I would not open my heart to the tender mercies of the
world. But they persisted: "What was I doing at Littlemore?" Doing
there! have I not retreated from you? have I not given up my position
and my place? am I alone, of Englishmen, not to have the privilege to go
where I will, no questions asked? am I alone to be followed about by
jealous prying eyes, which take note whether I go in at a back door or
at the front, and w