Thomas Wingfold, Curate, vol 2 | Page 3

are but the creatures of a day, yet surely were the shadow-joys of
this miserable pair not merely nobler in their essence, but finer to the
soul's palate than the shadow-joys of young Hercules Bascombe--Helen
and horses and all! Poor Helen I cannot use for comparison, for she had
no joy, save indeed the very divine, though at present unblossoming
one of sisterly love. Still, and notwithstanding, if the facts of life are
those of George Bascombe's endorsing--AND HE CAN PROVE IT--let
us by all means learn and accept them, be they the worst possible.

Meantime there are truths that ought to be facts, and until he has proved
that there is no God, some of us will go feeling after him if haply we
may find him, and in him the truths we long to find true. Some of us
perhaps think we have seen him from afar, but we only know the better
that in the mood wherein such as Bascombe are, they will never find
him--which would no doubt be to them a comfort were it not for a
laughter. And if he be such as their idea of what we think him, they
ARE better without him. If, on the contrary, he be what some of us
really think him, their not seeking him will not perhaps prevent him
from finding them.
From likeness of nature, community of feeling, constant intercourse,
and perfect confidence, Rachel understood her uncle's verses with
sufficient ease to enjoy them at once in part, and, for the rest, to go on
thinking in the direction in which they would carry her; but Wingfold,
in whom honesty of disposition had blossomed at last into honesty of
action, after fitting pause, during which no word was spoken, said:--
"Mr. Polwarth, where verse is concerned, I am simply stupid: when
read I cannot follow it. I did not understand the half of that poem. I
never have been a student of English verse, and indeed that part of my
nature which has to do with poetry, has been a good deal neglected.
Will you let me take those verses home with me?"
"I cannot do that, for they are not legible; but I will copy them out for
you."
"Will you give me them to-morrow? Shall you be at church?"
"That shall be just as you please: would you rather have me there or
not?"
"A thousand times rather," answered the curate. "To have one man
there who knows what I mean better than I can say it, is to have a
double soul and double courage.--But I came to-night mainly to tell you
that I have been much puzzled this last week to know how I ought to
regard the Bible--I mean as to its inspiration. What am I to say about
it?"
"Those are two distinct things. Why think of saying about it, before you
have anything to say? For yourself, however, let me ask if you have not
already found in the book the highest means of spiritual education and
development you have yet met with? If so, may not that suffice for the
present? It is the man Christ Jesus we have to know, and the Bible we

have to use to that end--not for theory or dogma.--I will tell you a
strange dream I had once, not long ago."
Rachel's face brightened. She rose, got a little stool, and setting it down
close by the chair on which her uncle was perched, seated herself at his
feet, with her eyes on the ground, to listen.
"About two years ago," said Polwarth, "a friend sent me Tauchnitz's
edition of the English New Testament, which has the different readings
of the three oldest known manuscripts translated at the foot of the page.
The edition was prepared chiefly for the sake of showing the results of
the collation of the Sinaitic manuscript, the oldest of all, so named
because it was found--a few years ago, by Tischendorf--in a monastery
on Mount Sinai--nowhere else than there! I received it with such
exultation as brought on an attack of asthma, and I could scarce open it
for a week, but lay with it under my pillow. When I did come to look at
it, my main wonder was to find the differences from the common
version so few and small. Still there were some such as gave rise to a
feeling far above mere interest--one in particular, the absence of a word
that had troubled me, not seeming like a word of our Lord, or
consonant with his teaching. I am unaware whether the passage has
ever given rise to controversy."
"May I ask what word it was?" interrupted Wingfold, eagerly.
"I will not say," returned Polwarth. "Not having troubled you, you
would probably only wonder