sio, Italy: January 7, 1904.

At last I am beginning to get tired of doing nothing. I hope that
eventually I shall be stronger than I have been for some years past. At
any rate I hope a little first-hand experience of pain will make me more
sympathetic. Pain seems to me now a greater mystery than ever before.
But I comforted myself with the thought that in the highest Life ever
seen on earth, there was a full measure of spiritual, mental, and
physical pain. Also it was a comfort to feel that when one accepted, not
simply with resignation but with faith, certain suffering, one was in
sympathy with the will of the universe, 'working together with God' in
some mysterious way. What a strange place a hospital is! How wonderful
the Gospels are, with their hope and comfort on every page--hope for the
physical as well as the mental side of man's life! I like more than ever
now to read how Jesus went about healing all manner of diseases and all
manner of sickness and bringing life and strength wherever He came,
showing us that Heaven is on our side in our wrestle with all that
deforms and degrades human nature.

I certainly don't regret my illness. Besides showing me the marvellous
kindness of friends, it has, I hope, taught me much.

{193}

APPENDIX

The following letter addressed to the Editor of this volume was
received from the Rev. H. Bisseker, chaplain at the Leys School,
Cambridge, too late for insertion in an earlier portion of the book:

'Your brother's friendship, as you must have heard so often during the
past few months, was valued in Cambridge beyond that of most men, and I
am probably only one of many who still look to that friendship as among
the prominent facts of their time up here. Though personally I did not
learn to know Mr. Robinson when I first came up, his brotherliness so
deeply impressed me during the four years for which our friendship
lasted, that I still find it difficult to believe that he is no longer
to be found in the familiar rooms at Christ's, and has ceased to be a
part of our Cambridge life. And yet, in another sense, he has not
ceased to be a part of that life; for one feels that during his
residence up here he managed, if one may so express it, to put a bit of
himself into more than one man, and that in this way he will continue
to live among us long after he himself has been removed.

{194} 'I have often thought about him and his quiet, strong influence
since we he