ey came into being, is dark indeed. But there is enough to
make us believe in a Will that does its utmost, and that is assured of
some bright and far-off victory.

A faith in God and a faith in Love; and here seems to me to lie the
strength and power of the Christian Revelation. It is to these two
things that Christ pointed men. Though overlaid with definition, with
false motive, with sophistry, with pedantry, this is the deep secret of
the Christian Creed; and if we dare to link our will with the Will of
God, however feebly, however complainingly, if we desire and endeavour
not to sin against love, not to nourish hate or strife, to hold out the
hand again and again to any message of sympathy or trust, not to
struggle for our own profit, not to reject tenderness, to believe in
the good faith and the good-will of men, we are then in the way. We may
make mistakes, we may fail a thousand times, but the key of heaven is
in our hands. . . .--Ever yours,

T. B.

UPTON,
July 29, 1904.

DEAR HERBERT,--You must forgive me if this is a very sentimental
letter, but this is the day that, of all days in the year, is to me
most full of pathos--the last day of the summer half. My heart is like
a full sponge and must weep a little. The last few days have been full
to the brim of work and bustle--reports to be written, papers to be
looked over. Yesterday was a day of sad partings. Half-a-dozen boys are
leaving; and I have tried my best to tell them the truth about
themselves; to say something that would linger in their minds, and yet
to do it in a tender and affectionate way. And some of these boys'
hearts are full to bursting too. I remember as if it were yesterday the
last meeting at Eton of a Debating Society of which I was a member. We
were electing new members and passing votes of thanks. Scott, who was
then President and, as you remember, Captain of the Eleven, sate in his
high chair above the table; opposite him, with his minute-book, was
Riddell, then Secretary--that huge fellow in the Eight, you recollect.
The vote of thanks to the President was carried; he said a few words in
a broken voice, and sate down; the Secretary's vote of thanks was
proposed, and he, too, rose to make acknowledgment. In the middle of
his speech we were attracted by a movement of the President. He put his
head in his hands and sobbed aloud. Riddell stopped, faltered, looked
round, and leaving his sentence unfinished, sate down, put his face