al trouble to Charles, it got clearer and clearer to
his apprehension that his intimacy with Sheffield was not quite what it
had been. They had, indeed, passed the Vacation together, and saw of
each other more than ever: but their sympathies in each other were not
as strong, they had not the same likings and dislikings; in short, they
had not such congenial minds as they fancied when they were freshmen.
There was not so much heart in their conversations, and they more easily
endured to miss each other's company. They were both reading for
honours--reading hard; but Sheffield's whole heart was in his work, and
religion was but a secondary matter to him. He had no doubts,
difficulties, anxieties, sorrows, which much affected him. It was not
the certainty of faith which made a sunshine to his soul, and dried up
the mists of human weakness; rather, he had no perceptible need within
him of that vision of the Unseen which is the Christian's life. He was
unblemished in his character, exemplary in his conduct; but he was
content with what the perishable world gave him. Charles's
characteristic, perhaps above anything else, was an habitual sense of
the Divine Presence; a sense which, of course, did not insure
uninterrupted conformity of thought and deed to itself, but still there
it was--the pillar of the cloud before him and guiding him. He felt
himself to be God's creature, and responsible to Him--God's possession,
not his own. He had a great wish to succeed in the schools; a thrill
came over him when he thought of it; but ambition was not his life; he
could have reconciled himself in a few minutes to failure. Thus
disposed, the only subjects on which the two friends freely talked
together were connected with their common studies. They read together,
examined each other, used and corrected each other's papers, and solved
each other's difficulties. Perhaps it scarcely came home to Sheffield,
sharp as he was, that there was any flagging of their intimacy.
Religious controversy had been the food of his active intellect when it
was novel; now it had lost its interest, and his books took its place.
But it was far different with Charles; he had felt interest in religious
questions for their own sake; and when he had deprived himself of the
pursuit of them it had been a self-denial. Now, then, when they seemed
forced on him again, Sheffield could not help him, where he most wanted
the assistance of a friend.

A still more tangible tr