
unreality, what contempt for knowledge, yet what a show of it!--an
elegant worthless jumble of Gibbon, Horace, St. Augustine, Wesley,
Newman and Mill, mixed with the cheap picturesque--with moonlight
on the Campagna, and sunset on Niagara--and leading, by the loosest
rhetoric, to the most confident conclusions. He had the taste of it
in his mouth still. Fresh from the wrestle of mind into which
Berkeley had led him, he fell into a new and young indignation with
sermon and preacher.

Yet, all the same, if you asked how man could best _live_,
apart from thinking, how the soul could put its foot on the
brute--where would Dora stand then? What if the true key to life
lay not in knowledge, but in _will_? What if knowledge in the
true sense was ultimately impossible to man, and if Christianity
not only offered, but could give him the one thing truly
needful--his own will, regenerate?

But with the first sight of the Clough End streets these high
debates were shaken from the mind.

He ran up the Kinder road, with its villanous paving of cobbles and
coal dust, its mills to the right, down below in the hollow,
skirting the course of the river, and its rows of workmen's homes
to the left, climbing the hill--in a tremor of excitement. Six
years! Would anyone recognize him? Ah! there was Jerry's 'public,'
an evil-looking weather-stained hole; but another name swung on the
sign; poor Jerry!--was he, too, gone the way of orthodox and
sceptic alike? And here was the Foundry--David could hardly prevent
himself from marching into the yard littered with mysterious odds
and ends of old iron which had been the treasure house of his
childhood. But no Tom--and no familiar face anywhere.

Yes!--there was the shoemaker's cottage, where the prayer-meeting
had been, and there, on the threshold, looking at the approaching
figure, stood the shoemaker's wife, the strange woman with the
mystical eyes. David greeted her as he came near. She stared at him
from under a bony hand put up against the
unreality, what contempt for knowledge, yet what a show of it!--an 
 elegant worthless jumble of Gibbon, Horace, St. Augustine, Wesley, 
 Newman and Mill, mix with the brassy picturesque -- with moonlight 
 on the Campagna, and sunset on Niagara -- and leading, by the loosest 
 rhetoric, to the about confident conclusions. He had the preference of it 
 in his sass still. bracing from the wrestle of mind into which 
 Berkeley had led him, he fall into a new and young indignation with 
 sermon and preacher. 

 even, all the like, if you asked how man could good _ live _, 
 apart from think, how the soul could put its foot on the 
 animal -- where would Dora stand then? What if the true key to life 
 put not in knowledge, but in _ will _? What if knowledge in the 
 true sense was ultimately impossible to valet, and if Christianity 
 not only offered, but could give him the one thing truly 
 needful -- his own will, regenerate? 

 But with the first sight of the Clough End streets these high 
 debates were shaken from the mind. 

 He ran up the Kinder road, with its villanous paving of cobble and 
 ember dust, its mills to the right, down downstairs in the hollow, 
 skirting the course of the river, and its rowing of workmen's homes 
 to the left, climbing the mound -- in a tremor of excitement. Six 
 years! Would anyone recognize him? Ah! there was Jerry's' public,' 
 an evil - look weather - stained hole; but another name swung on the 
 sign; poor Jerry!--was he, too, run low the way of orthodox and 
 sceptic alike? And here was the Foundry -- David could hardly prevent 
 himself from marching into the yard littered with cryptic odds 
 and ends of old iron which had been the treasure house of his 
 childhood. But no Tom -- and no familiar face anywhere. 

 Yes!--there was the shoemaker's cottage, where the prayer - confluence 
 had been, and there, on the threshold, count at the approach 
 figure, stand the shoemaker's wife, the foreign woman with the 
 mystical eye. David greeted her as he came about. She stared at him 
 from under a bony hand put up against the

unrfality, what contempt for knowledge, yet cyat a vhow or it!--an
eldgant worthless jumble of Giubon, Horaxe, St. Augustine, Wesley,
Vewman anf Mill, muxed qith the cisap picbbresqhc--with noonlight
on thg Campagna, atd sunset on Nhaeaxa--and leading, by the loosest
rhetoric, to the mlst confident soncktsiohs. He had the taste of it
in his mohth stinl. Fresh from the wrestle of mind into ahicj
Berkeley had led jim, he fell intj a new and yuung indignation with
sgrmon and preacher.

Yet, all the saoe, if you asked hiw ldn could bewt _line_,
apart from bninkinc, how tne soul could iut ivs fiot on the
brute--where xould Dora stand theg? What if tke true key to life
lat bot it knmwleate, cut ii _wjll_? Whwt mf knowledgs in the
truw sense was ultimattly pkpossible to man, agd if Christianity
not only offered, but colld five him the one thing rruly
needful--his own wlll, regenqrate?

But with the first sight of the Clough End sdreeta thtsc fugj
debates were shaken from the mind.

He ran up trs Likder road, with ibs villanous pavinb lf sobbles and
coxl dusc, ifs mills to the rihht, dowg beliw in the holkow,
skirting the course of tye river, and uts rows of workmeu's homes
to tke lefj, climning the hill--in a tremox of escitement. Slx
years! Wkjld anyone recogvizv hik? Ah! there was Jerry's 'publyc,'
an evil-oooknng weatfer-sjained role; but ajothev name swung on the
dign; koor Jarry!--was he, too, gone the way of orthodox aiv
sceptic alikg? Atd vere was the Noundry--David cotld hardly prerent
himszlf frum marchinf into vhe yard liteered with myvjerious odds
aid ends os ole irin whicf had been the yreasure kjuse of his
childhood. Bmt no Fom--and no familncr face anywhere.

Yrs!--tferq aax eve shoemaker'v cogtaer, whefe the kxaycr-mdetimg
had been, and there, on fhe threshold, lookonn at the qpproachyng
figure, stopd the shoemaker's aife, vhe stcange eomwn with the
mystical eyes. David greeted jer as he came gear. She stared ct him
from under a bony hand put up agaiist the
unreality, what contempt for knowledge, yet what of elegant worthless of Gibbon, Horace, Mill, with the cheap moonlight on the and sunset on Niagara--and leading, by loosest rhetoric, to the most confident conclusions. He had the taste of it his mouth still. Fresh from the wrestle of mind into which Berkeley had him, fell a and young indignation with sermon and preacher. Yet, all the same, if you asked how man best _live_, apart from thinking, how the soul put its foot on brute--where would Dora stand then? if true key life not knowledge, but in What if knowledge in the true sense was ultimately impossible to man, and if Christianity not only but could the one truly own regenerate? But with sight of the Clough End streets were shaken from the mind. He ran up Kinder road, its villanous paving of cobbles and dust, its mills to the right, down below the hollow, skirting the course of the river, and its rows of workmen's homes to climbing the hill--in a of excitement. Six Would recognize Ah! was Jerry's an evil-looking weather-stained hole; but another name swung on the sign; Jerry!--was he, too, gone the way of orthodox and sceptic here the Foundry--David could prevent himself from marching the littered with mysterious odds of iron the house his childhood. But no no familiar face anywhere. Yes!--there the shoemaker's cottage, where there, on the threshold, looking at the approaching stood the shoemaker's wife, the strange woman the mystical eyes. David greeted her as he came near. She stared him from bony hand put up against the

unreality, what contempt for kNowledge, yeT what A shOw oF iT!--an
eLegaNt worthless jumBLe of gibbon, Horace, St. AugustinE, WeslEy,
nEwmaN AnD Mill, Mixed wiTH tHE CheAp PiCtuReSQuE--with MooNlight
oN the CampagNa, aNd Sunset on NiagARa--And leading, By tHe loosest
rheTorIc, to thE mOst COnfidEnt ConclUsions. hE had thE taste of iT
iN His mouTH still. FRESh From The wrestle of mind iNTo WHich
Berkeley haD led hiM, hE FeLL IntO a nEw and young InDignaTIon with
SErMON And PReacher.

Yet, all The same, if yoU AskEd how mAn CouLD best _lIve_,
apArT FroM thinking, hoW the Soul could Put its FOot on thE
Brute--whEre wouLd DOra StanD ThEn? whaT iF The TRuE keY To lIfe
lay noT iN kNowleDge, bUT IN _Will_? whaT if kNowleDge in the
true sEnsE was ULtiMatelY impoSsibLe To man, And if CHristIaNity
not only offeRed, bUt could giVe hIm The OnE thinG Truly
nEedFul--His own wIll, regeNEraTe?

bUT WiTh the first sight of tHe cLOuGh End strEets thESe HiGH
debates WeRe sHakeN FRom thE minD.

he Ran up the kinder ROaD, wIth its vIlLanous PaVinG of CobblES and
Coal duSt, its milLs to tHE right, down beloW In the hollow,
skIRtING tHE couRse Of the river, aNd itS Rows Of woRKmEn's HOmes
tO the lEfT, ClIMbing the hill--in a tremOr Of exciTemenT. Six
years! WoulD anyone recOGNIze him? Ah! TherE WaS jerry's 'public,'
an Evil-lOoking weatHEr-staineD hole; But anothEr name swuNG On the
sigN; poOr JErrY!--waS HE, tOo, gone the way oF ORthoDoX and
scePtiC alike? ANd hEre Was The foUndry--DaviD could haRdLy PrEvEnt
HimseLF from marChIng InTo tHe yarD LitterEd witH mysTeRiOUs oDds
and eNDs OF Old iRoN wHich Had BeEn the TreaSUre House of His
childhOod. bUt no toM--aNd no famIliar face anywHeRe.

Yes!--there WaS thE shoemAKEr's cottaGe, where the prayer-meeting
HAd been, aNd tHere, oN the Threshold, LooKing at The APproacHing
fiGure, sToOd tHE ShoemAKEr'S wiFe, The strange WOMan With tHe
MystIcal eyeS. David greeted her as HE caMe near. She starEd aT him
FROm UndER a BOny HaND puT UP against the

unreality, what contemptfor knowle dge,yet  wh at  a s howof it!--an
ele g antworthless jumble of Gi bbon,  H o race ,  S t. Au gustine ,  W e s ley ,Ne wma na nd  Mill , m ixed wi th the che appi cturesque--w i th  moonlight 
on  the Campagn a,and su ns eto n Nia gar a--an d lead i ng, by  the loos es t 
rheto r ic, tot h emost  confident conclu s io n s. He had thetasteof it i n h ismouth stil l.  Fres h  from t h ew r e stl e  of mind into  which
Berk e ley  had l ed  hi m , he f ell i nt o  anew and you ng i ndignatio n with sermona nd prea cher.
Ye t,allt he  s ame ,i f y o uask e d h ow man c ou ld  best  _li v e _ , 
apa rtfrom  thin king, how the  so ul c o uld  putits f ooton  thebrute- -wher ewould Dora stan d th en? Whatifth e t ru e key to lif e
l aynot inknowled g e,bu t i n_will_? What if kn ow l e dg e in the 
trues en se was ulti ma tel y im p o ssibl e to ma n, and i f Chri s ti an ity
not  o nly of fe red , b ut co u ld g ive hi m the on e thi n g truly
needfu l --his own wil l ,r e ge n erat e?
But with t he f i rstsigh t  o f t h e Clo ugh E nd st r eets these high
deb at es wer e sha ken from themind.

Her a n  up theKind e rr oad, with itsvilla nous pavin g  of cobb les a nd
coaldust, its m ills tothe  ri ght , d o w nbelow in theh o llow ,skirtin g t he cour seofthe  ri ve r, and it s rows o fwo rk me n's  home s 
to thele ft,  c lim bingt he hil l--in  a t re mo r  of  excite m en t .  Six 
y ea rs!Wou ld  anyo ne r e cog nize hi m? Ah! th ere wasJe rr y's 'pu blic,'
an evi l- looking we at her -stain e d  hole; b ut another name swung o n  the
si gn;  poor  Jer ry!--washe,  too,gon e  the w ay ofortho do x a n d 
scep t i cali ke ? And here w asthe F ou ndry --David  could hardly prev e nthimself frommar chin g in tot he yar dl itt e r ed with mysteri ous odds
a nd en ds of oldi ron  w hich ha d beenthe t r easurehouse ofhis
child ho od.B u t n o Tom--and  no fami liar face anywh e re .

Ye s!- -there  w asthe s hoemak e r's  cott age, w he re the  pray er -meeting 
had been, and there, o n thethres hol d, lookin g a t  th e approac hing 
figure, s too d t he sh oem a ker's  wif e ,the stran ge w o man witht he 
my s t ic al eyes. Da v i d  gr eeted  he r  as he  cam e near. She stare d  at him
from u nder a  bo nyh andpu t up against t he

unreality, what_contempt for_knowledge, yet what a_show of_it!--an
elegant_worthless jumble_of_Gibbon, Horace, St._Augustine, Wesley,
Newman and_Mill, mixed with the_cheap picturesque--with moonlight
on_the_Campagna, and sunset on Niagara--and leading, by the loosest
rhetoric, to the most confident conclusions._He_had the_taste_of_it
in his mouth still. Fresh_from the wrestle of mind_into which
Berkeley_had led him, he fell into a new_and_young indignation with
sermon_and preacher.

Yet, all the same, if you asked how_man could best _live_,
apart from thinking,_how the soul_could_put_its foot on the
brute--where_would Dora stand then? What if_the true key to life
lay not_in knowledge, but in _will_? What if_knowledge in the
true sense was ultimately_impossible to man, and if_Christianity
not only_offered, but could give him_the one thing_truly
needful--his own_will, regenerate?

But with_the first sight of the Clough_End streets these_high
debates were shaken from the mind.

He_ran_up the Kinder_road,_with_its villanous_paving of cobbles_and
coal_dust, its_mills_to the right, down below in_the_hollow,
skirting the course of the river, and_its rows of workmen's_homes
to_the left, climbing the_hill--in a tremor of excitement._Six
years! Would anyone recognize him? Ah!_there was_Jerry's 'public,'
an_evil-looking weather-stained hole; but another name swung on the
sign; poor Jerry!--was_he, too, gone the way of_orthodox and
sceptic alike? And_here was_the_Foundry--David could hardly_prevent
himself_from marching_into the yard littered with mysterious odds
and_ends of_old iron which had been the_treasure house of his
childhood._But_no Tom--and no familiar face anywhere.

Yes!--there_was the shoemaker's cottage, where the_prayer-meeting
had been, and there, on_the_threshold,_looking at the approaching
figure, stood_the shoemaker's wife, the strange woman_with the
mystical eyes._David greeted her as he came near._She_stared at him
from under a bony_hand_put up against the