When he was asked whether, while he yet believed there was such a being as his mother told him of, he had ever set himself to act upon that belief, he asserted himself fortunate in the omission of what might have riveted on him the fetters of a degrading faith.

For years he had turned his face toward all speculation favoring the non-existence of a creating Will, his back toward all tending to show that such a one might be.

Argument on the latter side he set down as born of prejudice, and appealing to weakness; on the other, as springing from courage, and appealing to honesty.

He had never put it to himself which would be the worse deception--to believe there was a God when there was none; or to believe there was no God when there was one.
He had, however, a large share of the lower but equally indispensable half of religion--that, namely, which has respect to one's fellows.

Not a man in Glaston was readier, by day or by night, to run to the help of another, and that not merely in his professional capacity, but as a neighbor, whatever the sort of help was needed.
Thomas Wingfold, the curate, had a great respect for him.