rse I should call such
dealing with an Act of Parliament a lie and a sham-But about these
things, I fancy, the women know best. Jane is ten thousand times as
good as I am-you don't know half her worth-And I haven't the heart
to contradict her-nor the right either; for I have no reasons to
give her; no faith to substitute for hers."

"Our friend, the High-Church curate, could have given you a few
plain reasons, I should think."

"Of course he could. And I believe in my heart the man is in the
right in calling Jane wrong. He has honesty and common sense on his
side, just as he has when he calls the present state of Convocation,
in the face of that prayer for God's Spirit on its deliberations, a
blasphemous lie and sham. Of course it is. Any ensign in a
marching regiment could tell us that from his mere sense of
soldier's honour. But then-if she is wrong, is he right? How do I
know? I want reasons: he gives me historic authorities."

"And very good things too; for they are fair phenomena for
induction."

"But how will proving to me that certain people once thought a thing
right prove to me that it is right? Good people think differently
every day. Good people have thought differently about those very
matters in every age. I want some proof which will coincide with
the little which I do know about science and philosophy. They must
fight out their own battle, if they choose to fight it on mere
authority. If one could but have the implicit faith of a child, it
would be all very well: but one can't. If one has once been fool
enough to think about these things, one must have reasons, or
something better than mere ipse dixits, or one can't believe them.
I should be glad enough to believe; do you suppose that I don't envy
poor dear Jane from morning to night?-but I can't. And so-"

"And so what?" asked I.

"And so, I believe, I am growing to have no religion at all, and no
substitute for it either; for I feel I have no ground or reason for
admiring or working out any subject. I have tired of philosophy.
Perhaps it's all wrong-at least I can't see what it has to do with
God, and Christianity, and all which, if it is true, must be more
important than anything else. I have tired of art for the same
reason. How can I be anything but a wretched dilettante, when I
have no principles to ground my criticism on, beyond bosh about 'The
Beautiful'? I did pluck up heart and read Mr. Ruskin's books
greedily when