"My dear sister Locke," he began, "I really think sometimes--that is, ahem--with your leave, brother--I am almost disposed--but I should wish to defer to your superior zeal--yet, at the same time, perhaps, the desire for information, however carnal in itself, may be an instrument in the Lord's hands--you know what I mean. I always thought him a gracious youth, madam, didn't you? And perhaps--I only observe it in passing--the Lord's people among the dissenting connexions are apt to undervalue human learning as a means--of course, I mean, only as a means. It is not generally known, I believe, that our reverend Puritan patriarchs, Howe and Baxter, Owen and many more, were not altogether unacquainted with heathen authors; nay, that they may have been called absolutely learned men. And some of our leading ministers are inclined--no doubt they will be led rightly in so important a matter--to follow the example of the Independents in educating their young ministers, and turning Satan's weapons of heathen mythology against himself, as St. Paul is said to have done. My dear boy, what books have you now got by you of Mr. Mackaye's?" "Milton's Poems and a Latin Virgil." "Ah!" groaned the dark man; "will poetry, will Latin save an immortal soul?" "I'll tell you what, sir; you say yourself that it depends on God's absolute counsel whether I am saved or not. So, if I am elect, I shall be saved whatever I do; and if I am not, I shall be damned whatever I do; and in the mean time you had better mind your own business, and let me do the best I can for this life, as the next is all settled for me." This flippant, but after all not unreasonable speech, seemed to silence the man; and I took the opportunity of running up-stairs and bringing down my Milton. The old man was speaking as I re-entered. "And you know, my dear madam, Mr. Milton was a true converted man, and a Puritan." "He was Oliver Cromwell's secretary," I added. "Did he teach you to disobey your mother?" asked my mother. I did not answer; and the old man, after turning over a few leaves, as if he knew the book well, looked up. "I think, madam, you might let the youth keep these books, if he will promise, as I am sure he will, to see no more of Mr. Mackaye." I was ready to burst out crying, but I made up my mind and answered, "I must see him once again, or he will think me so ungrateful. He is the best friend that I ever had, except you, mother. Besides, I do not know if he will lend me any, after this." My mother looked at the old minister, and then gave a sullen assent. "Promise me only to see him once--but I cannot trust you. You have deceived me once, Alton, and you may again!" "I shall not, I shall not," I answered proudly. "You do not know me"--and I spoke true. "You do not know yourself, my poor dear foolish child!" she replied--and that was true too. "And now, dear friends," said the dark man, "let us join in offering up a few words of special intercession."