the most godly for his evil purpose. This ingenious defence of the
field-chaplain was the saving of my back, for my father, who was a
believer in Solomon's axiom, had a stout ash stick and a strong arm for
whatever seemed to him to be a falling away from the true path.

From the day that I first learned my letters from the horn-book at my
mother's knee I was always hungry to increase my knowledge, and never a
piece of print came in my way that I did not eagerly master. My father
pushed the sectarian hatred of learning to such a length that he was
averse to having any worldly books within his doors.[Note A, Appendix]
I was dependent therefore for my supply upon one or two of my friends in
the village, who lent me a volume at a time from their small libraries.
These I would carry inside my shirt, and would only dare to produce when
I could slip away into the fields, and lie hid among the long grass, or
at night when the rushlight was still burning, and my father's snoring
assured me that there was no danger of his detecting me. In this way I
worked up from Don Bellianis of Greece and the 'Seven Champions,'
through Tarleton's 'Jests' and other such books, until I could take
pleasure in the poetry of Waller and of Herrick, or in the plays of
Massinger and Shakespeare. How sweet were the hours when I could lay
aside all thought of freewill and of predestination, to lie with my
heels in the air among the scented clover, and listen to old Chaucer
telling the sweet story of Grisel the patient, or to weep for the chaste
Desdemona, and mourn over the untimely end of her gallant spouse.
There were times as I rose up with my mind full of the noble poetry, and
glanced over the fair slope of the countryside, with the gleaming sea
beyond it, and the purple outline of the Isle of Wight upon the horizon;
when it would be borne in upon me that the Being who created all this,
and who gave man the power of pouring out these beautiful thoughts, was
not the possession of one sect or another, or of this nation or that,