Probably he said more than this: for it is a fact that he had been
warmly invited to preach in one or two of the Protestant churches in
the town. He did not go so far as to accept that offer: he was wise in
his generation, and eventually got his reward.
Our schoolmaster gone, we were once more back in the old way; we did
just what we liked. Our parents probably thought that our life would
be on the plains, with sheep and cattle-breeding for only vocations,
and that should any one of us, like my mathematical-minded brother,
take some line of his own, he would find out the way of it for
himself: his own sense, the light of nature, would be his guide. I had
no inclination to do anything with books myself: books were lessons,
therefore repellent, and that any one should read a book for pleasure
was inconceivable. The only attempt to improve our minds at this
period came, oddly enough, from my masterful brother who despised our
babyish intellects--especially mine. However, one day he announced
that he had a grand scheme to put before us. He had heard or read of a
family of boys living just like us in some wild isolated land where
there were no schools or teachers and no newspapers, who amused
themselves by writing a journal of their own, which was issued once a
week.
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