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ten； a generation ago。
They hurt me so much that immediately after reading them I withdrew my formal resignation and cancelled the passage I had taken in the post…cart to Kimberley en route for the Cape and England。 As a result the course of two lives was changed。 The lady married someone else； with results that were far from fortunate； and the effect upon myself was not good。 I know now that all was for the best so far as I am concerned； and in these events I see the workings of the hand of Destiny。 Many； I am aware； will think this a hard saying； but from Job down man has found it difficult to escape a certain faith in fatalism which even St。 Paul seems to have accepted。
There’s a divinity that shapes our ends；
Rough…hew them how we will；
writes the inspired Shakespeare； and who shall deny that he writes truth？ The alternative would seem to be the acceptance of a doctrine of blind chance which I confess I find hideous。 Moreover； if it is to prevail； how fearful are our human responsibilities。 Because my dear father； who had the interests of all his children so closely at heart； wrote a sharp and testy letter； probably under the influence of some other irritation of which I know nothing； is he to be saddled with the weight of all the consequences of that letter？ Or am I to be saddled with those consequences because I was a high…spirited and sensitive young man who took the letter too seriously？ If we knew the answers to these questions we should have solved the meaning of the secret of our lives。 But they are hidden by the blackness that walls us in； that blackness in which the sphinx will speak at last — or stay for ever silent。
Meanwhile the moral is that people should be careful of what they put on paper。 When we throw a stone into the sea； who knows where the ripple ends？
To return — these rows at Bradenham； niy…nine out of a hundred of which meant nothing at all； had a very ical side to them。 Perhaps they sprang up at table on the occasion of an argument between my father and one of his sons。 Then he would rise majestically； announce in solemn tones that he refused to be insulted in his own house； and depart； banging the door loudly behind him。 Across the hall he went into the drawing…room and banged that door； out of the drawing…room into the vestibule （here there are two doors； so the bang was double…barrelled）； through the vestibule into the garden； if the row was of the first magnitude。 If not he banged his way back into the dining…room by the serving entrance； and very probably sat doper； the exercise having relieved his feelings。 Especially was this so if the offending son had banged himself out of the house by some other route。
Only the other day I examined those Bradenham doors and their hinges。 The workmanship of them is really wonderful。 After half a century of banging added to their ordinary wear； they are as good as when they were made。 We do not see such joinery nowadays。
Considered as a whole it would have been difficult to find a more jovial party than we were at Bradenham in the days of my youth； especially when my father was in a good mood。 The noise of course was tremendous； because everybody had plenty to say and was fully determined that it should not be hidden from the world。 In the midst of all this hubbub sat my dearest mother — like an angel that had lost her way and found herself in pandemonium。 Not being blest with the Haggard voice； though she had a very sweet one of her own； often and often she was reduced to the necessity of signifying her wishes by signs。 Indeed it became a habit of hers； if she needed the salt or anything else； to point to it； and beckon it towards her。 One of her daughters…inlaw once asked my mother how on earth she made herself heard in the midst of so much noise at table。
“My dear；” she answered； “I whisper！ When I whisper they all stop talking； because they wonder what is the matter。 Then I get my chance。”
Here I will try to give some description of this mother with whom we were blest。 Twenty…two years have passed since she left us； but I can say honestly that every one of those years has brought me to a deeper appreciation of her beautiful character。 Indeed she seems to be much nearer to me now that she is dead than she was while she still lived。 It is as though our intimacy and mutual understanding has grown in a way as real as it is mysterious。 Someone says that the dead are never dead to us until they are forgotten； and if that be so； in my case my mother lives indeed。 No night goes by that I do not think of her and pray that we may meet again to part no more。 If our present positions were reversed； this would please me； could I know of it； and so I trust that this offering of a son’s unalterable gratitude and affection may please her； for after all such things are the most fragrant flowers that we can lay upon the graves of our beloved。 The Protestant Faith seems vaguely to inculcate that we should not pray for the dead。 If so； I differ from the Protestant Faith； who hold that we should not only pray for them but to them； that they will judge our frailties with tenderness and will not forget us who do not forget them。 Even if the message is delivered only after ten thousand years； it will still be a message that most of us would be glad to hear； and if it is never delivered at all； still it will have been sent； and what can man do more？
I know that my mother believed that such efforts are not in vain； for she was filled with a very earnest faith。 After her death； in the drawer of her writing…table were found four lines； feebly inscribed in pencil； which are believed to be the last words she wrote。 They are before me now and I transcribe them：
Lo！ in the shadowy valley here He stands：
？My soul pale sliding down Earth’s icy slope
Descends to meet Him； with beseeching hands
？Trembling with Fear — and yet upraised in Hope。
My mother was married when she was twenty…five years of age； and children came in what ladies nowadays would consider superabundance。 The eldest； my sister Ella； was born in Rome in March 1845； while they were still upon a marriage tour； and subsequently； in quick succession； the others followed。 The last of us； my brother