of his father and grandfather and become a clergyman;
accordingly, after taking his degree, he went to London and began to
prepare for ordination, living and working among the poor as lay
assistant under the Rev. Philip Perring, Curate of St. James's,
Piccadilly, an old pupil of Dr. Butler at Shrewsbury. {20} Placed
among such surroundings, he felt bound to think out for himself many
theological questions which at this time were first presented to
him, and, the conclusion being forced upon him that he could not
believe in the efficacy of infant baptism, he declined to be
ordained.

It was now his desire to become an artist; this, however, did not
meet with the approval of his family, and he returned to Cambridge
to try for pupils and, if possible, to get a fellowship. He liked
being at Cambridge, but there were few pupils and, as there seemed
to be little chance of a fellowship, his father wished him to come
down and adopt some profession. A long correspondence took place in
the course of which many alternatives were considered. There are
letters about his becoming a farmer in England, a tutor, a
homoeopathic doctor, an artist, or a publisher, and the
possibilities of the army, the bar, and diplomacy. Finally it was
decided that he should emigrate to New Zealand. His passage was
paid, and he was to sail in the Burmah, but a cousin of his received
information about this vessel which caused him, much against his
will, to get back his passage money and take a berth in the Roman
Emperor, which sailed from Gravesend on one of the last days of
September, 1859. On that night, for the first time in his life, he
did not say his prayers. "I suppose the sense of change was so
great that it shook them quietly off. I was not then a sceptic; I
had got as far as disbelief in infant baptism, but no further. I
felt no compunction of conscience, however, about leaving off my
morning and evening prayers--simply I could no longer say them."

The Roman Emperor, after a voyage every incident of which interested
him deeply, arrived outside Port Lyttelton. The captain shouted to
the pilot who came to take them in:

"Has the Robert Small arrived?"

"No," replied the pilot, "nor yet the Burmah."

And Butler, writing home to his people, adds the comment: "You may
imagine what I felt."

The Burmah was never heard of again.

He spent some time looking round, considering what to do and how to
employ the money with which his fa