g, and Frank, after his career at Oxford, was
overpowered by the subtle attractions of English culture, and could not
separate himself from the old country. I saw him once while I was at
Harvard. He was an Englishman in all outward respects, and seemed to
be so inwardly likewise. The other day I heard of a Frank Channing in
Parliament; probably the same man. But either the effect upon him of his
voluntary expatriation--his failure to obey at eve the voice obeyed at
prime--or some other cause, has prevented him from ever doing anything
to attract attention, or to appear commensurate with his radiant
promise. Henry James is the only American I know who has not suffered
from adopting England; and even he might have risen higher than he has
done had he overcome his distaste to the external discomforts of the
democracy and cast in his lot with ours.

Frank's father was a tall, intellectual, slender Yankee, endowed with
splendid natural gifts, which he had improved by assiduous cultivation.
In the pulpit he rose to an almost divine eloquence and passion, and
a light would shine over his face as if reflected from the Holy Spirit
itself. My father took a pew in his church, and sent me to sit in it
every Sunday; he never went himself. He was resolved, I suppose, if
there was any religion in me, to afford it an opportunity to come out.
Now, I had a religious reverence for divine things, but no understanding
whatever of dogma of any sort. I never learned to repeat a creed, far
less to comprehend its significance. I was moved and charmed by Mr.
Channing's discourses, but I did not like to sit in the pew; I did
not like "church." I remember nothing of the purport of any of those
sermons; but, oddly enough, I do recall one preached by a gentleman who
united the profession of preacher with that of medicine; he occupied
Channing's pulpit on a certain occasion, and preached on the text in
John xix., 34: "But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side,
and forthwith came thereout blood and water." The good doctor, drawing
on his physiological erudition, demonstrated at great length how it was
possible that blood should be mingled with the water, and showed at what
precise point in Christ's body the spear must have entered. I seem to
hear again his mellifluous voice, repeating at the close of each passage
of his argument, "And forthwith came thereout blood-AND WATER!" I did
not approve of this sermon; I was not carried to heaven in