And so, dear Jem, you must help them all to bear what will of course be a great trial.  This is my trial also; for it is hard to bear the thought that I may be giving unnecessary pain and causing distress without really having considered sufficiently the whole matter.  But then I think God does not call now by an open vision; this thought has been for years working in my mind:  it was His providence that brought me into contact with the Bishop in times past, and has led me to speak now.  I cannot doubt this.  I feel sure that if I was alone in the world I should go; the only question that remains is, “am I bound to stay for my dear Father’s sake, or for the sake of you all?” and this has been answered for me by Father and the Bishop.  And now, my dear Jem, think well over my character, sift it thoroughly, and try to see what there is which may have induced me to act wrongly in a matter of so much consequence.  This is the kindest thing you can do; for we ought to take every precaution not to make a mistake before it is too late.  Speak out quite plainly; do tell me distinctly as far as you can see them my prevailing faults, what they were in boyhood at Eton, and at College.  It may help me to contemplate more clearly and truly the prospect before me.  We shall have many opportunities, I trust, of discussing all this by-and-by.  I shall tell Uncle John, because some arrangements must be made about Alfington as soon as may be.  My tutor knows something about it already; it will soon be known to more.  But do not suppose that I imagine myself better qualified for this work than hundreds of others more earnest, and infinitely more unselfish, and practically good; but I have received an invitation to a peculiar work, which is not offered to many others.  We must all look onwards:  we must try to think of this world as but a short moment in our existence; our real life and home is beyond the grave.  On September 24th I hope to be ordained Priest; think of me and pray for me, my dear old fellow, that God will give me more of your own unselfishness and care and interest for others, and teach me to act not according to my own will and pleasure, but solely with a view to His honour and glory.  God bless you, my dear old Jem, my dear, dear brother.

’Your most loving brother,

’J.  C. P.

From that moment the matter was treated as fixed; and only three days later, the intention was announced to the relations at Thorverton.

This is the letter to the little fatherless cousin, Paulina Martyn, who had always been devoted to Coley, and whom he loved with a triple portion of the affection children always gained from him.  She was only eight years old, but had the precocity of solitary children much attended to by their elders:—­

’Feniton:  August 24, 1854.