’Ever your loving Brother,

‘J.  C. P.’

These words ‘love of self-approval’ perfectly analysed that snare of Coley’s early life, against which he so endeavoured to guard—­not self-conceit, but love of self-approval.

So the Easter week drew on, and during it he writes to his cousin:—­

’Friday, Wallis Lodgings, Exeter:  September, 1853.

’My dear Sophy,—­We have had a good examination, I think; perhaps rather harder than I expected.  Woolecombe and Chancellor Harrington spoke to me this morning, thanking me for my papers, and telling me to read the Gospel at the Ordination.

’I did feel very nervous last Sunday and Monday, and the Ember Prayer in the morning (when I was at Ottery) fairly upset me, but I don’t think anybody saw it; now, I am thankful to say, I am very well, and feel thoroughly happy.  I shall be nervous, no doubt, on Sunday, and especially at reading the Gospel, but not I think so nervous as to break down or do anything foolish; so when you know I am reading—­for you won’t hear me, if you are in the stalls, don’t distress yourself about me.

’I can’t tell what it was that upset me so on Sunday and Monday—­ thinking of dear Mamma and how she had wished for this, the overwhelming kindness of everybody about me, dear Father’s simple words of very affectionate comfort and advice.

’But I walked into Exeter, and on the way got quite calm, and so I have been ever since.  It is not strange that the realising the near approach of what I have for years wished for, and looked forward to, should at times come upon me with such force that I seem scarcely master of myself; but it is only excitement of feeling, and ought, I know, to be repressed, not for a moment to be entertained as a test of one’s religious state, being by no means a desirable thing.  I am very glad the examination is over.  I did not worry myself about it, but it was rather hard work, and now I have my time to myself for quiet thought and meditation.

’Ever, dear Sophy, your affectionate Cousin,

‘J.  C. Patteson.’

The next evening he writes:—­

’Saturday, 5.45 P.M.

’My dearest Father,—­I must write my last letter as a layman to you.  I can’t tell you the hundredth part of the thoughts that have been passing through my mind this week.  There has been no return of the excitement that I experienced last Sunday and Monday, and I have been very happy and well.

’To-day my eyes are not comfortable, from I know not what cause, but as all the work for them is over, it does not matter so much.  I am glad to have had a quiet time for reflection.  Indeed, I do not enough realise my great unworthiness and sinfulness, and the awful nature of the work I am undertaking.  I pray God very earnestly for the great grace of humility, which I so sadly need:  and for a spirit of earnest prayer, that I may be preserved from putting trust in myself, and may know