Every time we went back to our respective schools my father gave us ten shillings, and told us to mind our books, and my mother kissed us and made us promise we would say our prayers every day.

I could not bear to break my promise, though I used to say them in bed (the old form we learnt from her), and often in such a very unfit frame of mind, that they were what it is very easy to call "a mockery." GOD knows (Who alone knows the conditions under which each soul blunders and spells on through life's hard lessons) if they were a mockery.

_I_ know they were unworthy to be offered to Him, but that the habit helped to keep me straight I am equally sure.

Then I had a good home to go to during the holidays.

That was everything, and it is in all humbleness that I say that I do not think the ill experiences of those years degraded me much.