Remember, our laws in their mercy decide That no culprit be forced to give proof of his deed: They protect him though fall’n, his failings they hide, And enable the wretch from his crimes to receed (_sic_). The principle’s noble! I need not urge long Its adoption; then turn from a judge to a friend. Do not ask for the proof that I once acted wrong, But direct me and guide me the way to amend. M. F. What other previous passages between them are hinted at in the letter which he sent her, is unknown; but on July 5, 1820, he wrote:-- Royal Institution. You know me as well or better than I do myself. You know my former prejudices, and my present thoughts--you know my weaknesses, my vanity, my whole mind; you have converted me from one erroneous way, let me hope you will attempt to correct what others are wrong. * * * * * Again and again I attempt to say what I feel, but I cannot. Let me, however, claim not to be the selfish being that wishes to bend your affections for his own sake only. In whatever way I can best minister to your happiness either by assiduity or by absence, it shall be done. Do not injure me by withdrawing your friendship, or punish me for aiming to be more than a friend by making me less; and if you cannot grant me more, leave me what I possess, but hear me. Sarah Barnard showed the letter to her father. She was young, and feared to accept her lover. All her father would say by way of counsel was that love made philosophers say many foolish things. The intensity of Faraday’s passion proved for the time a bar to his advance. Fearing lest she should be unable to return it with equal force, Miss Barnard shrank from replying. To postpone an immediate decision, she went away with her sister, Mrs. Reid, to Ramsgate. Faraday followed to press his suit, and after several happy days in her company, varied with country walks and a run over to Dover, he was able to say: “Not a moment’s alloy of this evening’s happiness occurred. Everything was delightful to the last moment of my stay with my companion, because she was so.” Of the many letters that Faraday wrote to his future wife a number have been preserved. They are manly, simple, full of quiet affection, but absolutely free from gush or forced sentiment of any kind. Extracts from several of them are printed by Bence Jones. One of these, written early in 1821, runs as follows:--