On the morrow (6th April, 1811) the honest and troubled gentleman wrote again (_vide_ Hogg's _Life_) to Mr. Hogg the Elder, urging that their boys should be parted, instead of being allowed 'to go into professions together,' as they wished. It was the Squire's intention to use Paley's arguments for the correction of his dear boy's erroneous views; to make his young man read Paley's _Natural Theology_; to go through the _Natural Theology_ with him. 'I shall,' wrote the sorrowful father of Field Place to the other sorrowful father near Stockton-on-Tees, 'read it with him. A father so employed must impress his mind more sensibly than a stranger.' This is droll and comical from one point of view, no doubt. But it is also pathetic, and very much to Squire Timothy's credit. Hitherto Mr. Timothy Shelley had not seen his son since 'the late occurrence at University College;' but on the day following the date of his second letter to Mr. Hogg, senior--_i.e._ on 7th April, 1811, the first Sunday of the month--the young men dined with the Member for New Shoreham, by invitation, at his hotel (Miller's) on the Surrey side of the river, hard by Westminster Bridge. Leaving Poland Street at an early hour, the two youngsters prepared themselves for the repast, to which they had been bidden, with a long walk, during which Shelley read aloud several passages, to the excessive ridicule of the Jews and their religion, from some critical work on the Old Testament. On coming to Miller's Hotel, with faces brightened by exercise in the spring breezes, and complexions reddened by laughter at their author's satirical jocosities, they were welcomed with kindness by Mr. Timothy Shelley, and with cordiality by Mr. Graham, the Squire's 'factotum.' The reception was courteous, but the genial warmth and courtesy of Mr. Shelley's manner did not render Mr. Hogg blind to its comical extravagances. 'He presently,' Hogg remarks of the Squire's demeanour, 'began to talk in an odd, unconnected manner; scolding, crying, swearing, and then weeping again; no doubt, he went on strangely;'--even as honest gentlemen of an old school were apt to do under impulses of strong and conflicting feelings. Glad to see his boy who had offended him, angry with himself for letting this pleasure appear, and feeling it incumbent on his parental dignity to affect an air of sternness, Mr. Timothy Shelley was stirred far too deeply to play the part he wished to play, and 'broke down' in an absurd and rather ludicrous fashion, scolding a little, swearing a great deal, and blubbering hysterically in his want of self-control. Most young men would have been touched by these exhibitions of feeling, but to Hogg and his friend nothing was more obvious than that the 'old boy' was going on strangely. 'What do you think of my father?' Shelley inquired in a whisper of Hogg, whilst the senior was contending with too powerful emotion.