could join."

I do not suppose that his religion was of a particularly orthodox
kind; he was impatient of dogmatic definition and of ecclesiastical
tendencies; but he cared with all his heart for the vital
principles of religion, the love of God and the love of one's
neighbour.

He lived to see his adopted son grow up to maturity; and I do not
think I ever saw anything so beautiful as the confidence and
affection that subsisted between them; and then he died one day, as
he had often told me he desired to die. He had been ailing for a
week, and on rising from his chair in the morning he was seized by
a sudden faintness and died within half-an-hour, hardly knowing, I
imagine, that he was in any danger.

It fell to me to deal with his papers. There was a certain amount
of scattered writing, but no completed work; it all dated from
before the publication of his great book. It was determined that
this Diary should eventually see the light, and circumstances into
which I need not now enter have rendered its appearance advisable
at the present date.

The interest of the document is its candour and outspokenness. If
the tone of the record, until near the end, is one of unrelieved
sadness, it must be borne in mind that all the time he bore himself
in the presence of others with a singular courage and simplicity.
He said to me once, in an hour of dark despair, that he had drunk
the dregs of self-abasement. That he believed that he had no sense
of morality, no loyal affection, no love of virtue, no patience or