By the way, Grandad—­recalling the text you quote in your last—­did you know when you sent me to this university that the philosophy taught, in a general way, is that of Kant; that most university scholars smile pityingly at the Christian thesis?  Did you know that belief in Genesis had been laughed away in an institution like this?  With no intention of diverting you, but merely in order to acquaint you with the present state of popular opinion on a certain matter, I will tell you of a picture printed in a New York daily of yesterday.  It’s on the funny page.  A certain weird but funny-looking beast stands before an equally funny-looking Adam, in a funny Eden, with a funny Eve and a funny Cain and Abel in the background.  The animal says, “Say, Ad., what did you say my name was?  I’ve forgotten it again.”  Our first male parent answers somewhat testily, as one who has been vexed by like inquiries:  “Icthyosaurus, you darned fool!  Can’t you remember a little thing like that?”

In your youth this would doubtless have been punished as a crime.  In mine it is laughed at by all classes.  I tell you this to show you that the Church to-day is in the position of upholding a belief which has become meaningless because its foundation has been laughed away.  Believing no longer in the god of Moses who cursed them, Christians yet assume to believe in their need of a Saviour to intercede between them and this exploded idol of terror.  Unhappily, I am so made that I cannot occupy that position.  To me it is not honest.

Old man, do you remember a certain saying of Squire Cumpston?  It was this:  “If you’re going to cross the Rubicon, cross it!  Don’t wade out to the middle and stand there:  you only get hell from both banks!”

And so I have crossed; I find the Squire was right about standing in the middle.  Happily, or unhappily, I am compelled to believe my beliefs with all my head and all my heart.  But I am confident my reasons will satisfy you when you hear them.  You will see these matters in a new light.

Believe me, Grandad, with all love and respect,

Affectionately yours,
BERNAL LINFORD.

(From the Reverend Allan Delcher to Bernal Linford.)

My Boy: For one bitten with skepticism there is little argument—­especially if he be still in youth, which is a time of raw and ready judgments and of great spiritual self-sufficiency.  You wanted to go to Harvard.  I wanted you to go to Princeton, because of its Presbyterianism and because, too, of Harvard’s Unitarianism.  We compromised on Yale—­my own alma mater, as it was my father’s.  To my belief, this was still, especially as to its pulpit, the stronghold of orthodox Congregationalism.  Was I a weak old man, compromising with Satan?  Are you to break my heart in these my broken years?  For love of me, as for the love of your own soul, pray.  Leave the God of