["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> By and by a subtle, indefinable _malaise_ began to take possession of\nhim. I once saw a very young foal trying to eat some most objectionable\nrefuse, and unable to make up its mind whether it was good or no. Clearly\nit wanted to be told. If its mother had seen what it was doing she would\nhave set it right in a moment, and as soon as ever it had been told that\nwhat it was eating was filth, the foal would have recognised it and never\nhave wanted to be told again; but the foal could not settle the matter\nfor itself, or make up its mind whether it liked what it was trying to\neat or no, without assistance from without. I suppose it would have come\nto do so by and by, but it was wasting time and trouble, which a single\nlook from its mother would have saved, just as wort will in time ferment\nof itself, but will ferment much more quickly if a little yeast be added\nto it. In the matter of knowing what gives us pleasure we are all like\nwort, and if unaided from without can only ferment slowly and toilsomely. My unhappy hero about this time was very much like the foal, or rather he\nfelt much what the foal would have felt if its mother and all the other\ngrown-up horses in the field had vowed that what it was eating was the\nmost excellent and nutritious food to be found anywhere. He was so\nanxious to do what was right, and so ready to believe that every one knew\nbetter than himself, that he never ventured to admit to himself that he\nmight be all the while on a hopelessly wrong tack. It did not occur to\nhim that there might be a blunder anywhere, much less did it occur to him\nto try and find out where the blunder was. Nevertheless he became daily\nmore full of _malaise_, and daily, only he knew it not, more ripe for an\nexplosion should a spark fall upon him. One thing, however, did begin to loom out of the general vagueness, and\nto this he instinctively turned as trying to seize it--I mean, the fact\nthat he was saving very few souls, whereas there were thousands and\nthousands being lost hourly all around him which a little energy such as\nMr Hawke's might save. Day after day went by, and what was he doing? Standing on professional _etiquette_, and praying that his shares might\ngo up and down as he wanted them, so that they might give him money\nenough to enable him to regenerate the universe. But in the meantime the\npeople were dying. How many souls would not be doomed to endless ages of\nthe most frightful torments that the mind could think of, before he could\nbring his spiritual pathology engine to bear upon them? Why might he not\nstand and preach as he saw the Dissenters doing sometimes in Lincoln's\nInn Fields and other thoroughfares? He could say all that Mr Hawke had\nsaid. Mr Hawke was a very poor creature in Ernest's eyes now, for he was\na Low Churchman, but we should not be above learning from any one, and\nsurely he could affect his hearers as powerfully as Mr Hawke had affected\nhim if he only had the courage to set to work. The people whom he saw\npreaching in the squares sometimes drew large audiences. He could at any\nrate preach better than they. Ernest broached this to Pryer, who treated it as something too outrageous\nto be even thought of. Nothing, he said, could more tend to lower the\ndignity of the clergy and bring the Church into contempt. His manner was\nbrusque, and even rude. Ernest ventured a little mild dissent; he admitted it was not usual, but\nsomething at any rate must be done, and that quickly. This was how\nWesley and Whitfield had begun that great movement which had kindled\nreligious life in the minds of hundreds of thousands. This was no time\nto be standing on dignity. It was just because Wesley and Whitfield had\ndone what the Church would not that they had won men to follow them whom\nthe Church had now lost. Pryer eyed Ernest searchingly, and after a pause said, \"I don't know what\nto make of you, Pontifex; you are at once so very right and so very\nwrong. I agree with you heartily that something should be done, but it\nmust not be done in a way which experience has shown leads to nothing but\nfanaticism and dissent. Do you approve of these Wesleyans? Do you hold\nyour ordination vows so cheaply as to think that it does not matter\nwhether the services of the Church are performed in her churches and with\nall due ceremony or not? If you do--then, frankly, you had no business\nto be ordained; if you do not, then remember that one of the first duties\nof a young deacon is obedience to authority. Neither the Catholic\nChurch, nor yet the Church of England allows her clergy to preach in the\nstreets of cities where there is no lack of churches.\" Ernest felt the force of this, and Pryer saw that he wavered. \"We are living,\" he continued more genially, \"in an age of transition,\nand in a country which, though it has gained much by the Reformation,\ndoes not perceive how much it has also lost. You cannot and must not\nhawk Christ about in the streets as though you were in a heathen country\nwhose inhabitants had never heard of him. The people here in London have\nhad ample warning. Every church they pass is a protest to them against\ntheir lives, and a call to them to repent. Every church-bell they hear\nis a witness against them, everyone of those whom they meet on Sundays\ngoing to or coming from church is a warning voice from God. If these\ncountless influences produce no effect upon them, neither will the few\ntransient words which they would hear from you. You are like Dives, and\nthink that if one rose from the dead they would hear him. Perhaps they\nmight; but then you cannot pretend that you have risen from the dead.\" Though the last few words were spoken laughingly, there was a sub-sneer\nabout them which made Ernest wince; but he was quite subdued, and so the\nconversation ended. It left Ernest, however, not for the first time,\nconsciously dissatisfied with Pryer, and inclined to set his friend's\nopinion on one side--not openly, but quietly, and without telling Pryer\nanything about it. He had hardly parted from Pryer before there occurred another incident\nwhich strengthened his discontent. He had fallen, as I have shown, among\na gang of spiritual thieves or coiners, who passed the basest metal upon\nhim without his finding it out, so childish and inexperienced was he in\nthe ways of anything but those back eddies of the world, schools and\nuniversities. Among the bad threepenny pieces which had been passed off\nupon him, and which he kept for small hourly disbursement, was a remark\nthat poor people were much nicer than the richer and better educated. Ernest now said that he always travelled third class not because it was\ncheaper, but because the people whom he met in third class carriages were\nso much pleasanter and better behaved. As for the young men who attended\nErnest's evening classes, they were pronounced to be more intelligent and\nbetter ordered generally than the average run of Oxford and Cambridge\nmen. Our foolish young friend having heard Pryer talk to this effect,\ncaught up all he said and reproduced it _more suo_. One evening, however, about this time, whom should he see coming along a\nsmall street not far from his own but, of all persons in the world,\nTowneley, looking as full of life and good spirits as ever, and if\npossible even handsomer than he had been at Cambridge. Much as Ernest\nliked him he found himself shrinking from speaking to him, and was\nendeavouring to pass him without doing so when Towneley saw him and\nstopped him at once, being pleased to see an old Cambridge face. He\nseemed for the moment a little confused at being seen in such a\nneighbourhood, but recovered himself so soon that Ernest hardly noticed\nit, and then plunged into a few kindly remarks about old times. Ernest\nfelt that he quailed as he saw Towneley's eye wander to his white necktie\nand saw that he was being reckoned up, and rather disapprovingly reckoned\nup, as a parson. It was the merest passing shade upon Towneley's face,\nbut Ernest had felt it. Towneley said a few words of common form to Ernest about his profession\nas being what he thought would be most likely to interest him, and\nErnest, still confused and shy, gave him for lack of something better to\nsay his little threepenny-bit about poor people being so very nice. Towneley took this for what it was worth and nodded assent, whereon\nErnest imprudently went further and said \"Don't you like poor people very\nmuch yourself?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Towneley gave his face a comical but good-natured screw, and said\nquietly, but slowly and decidedly, \"No, no, no,\" and escaped. It was all over with Ernest from that moment. As usual he did not know\nit, but he had entered none the less upon another reaction. Towneley had\njust taken Ernest's threepenny-bit into his hands, looked at it and\nreturned it to him as a bad one. Why did he see in a moment that it was\na bad one now, though he had been unable to see it when he had taken it\nfrom Pryer? Of course some poor people were very nice, and always would\nbe so, but as though scales had fallen suddenly from his eyes he saw that\nno one was nicer for being poor, and that between the upper and lower\nclasses there was a gulf which amounted practically to an impassable\nbarrier. That evening he reflected a good deal. If Towneley was right, and Ernest\nfelt that the \"No\" had applied not to the remark about poor people only,\nbut to the whole scheme and scope of his own recently adopted ideas, he\nand Pryer must surely be on a wrong track. Towneley had not argued with\nhim; he had said one word only, and that one of the shortest in the\nlanguage, but Ernest was in a fit state for inoculation, and the minute\nparticle of virus set about working immediately. Which did he now think was most likely to have taken the juster view of\nlife and things, and whom would it be best to imitate, Towneley or Pryer? His heart returned answer to itself without a moment's hesitation. The\nfaces of men like Towneley were open and kindly; they looked as if at\nease themselves, and as though they would set all who had to do with them\nat ease as far as might be. The faces of Pryer and his friends were not\nlike this. Why had he felt tacitly rebuked as soon as he had met\nTowneley? Was he not a Christian? Certainly; he believed in the Church\nof England as a matter of course. Then how could he be himself wrong in\ntrying to act up to the faith that he and Towneley held in common? He\nwas trying to lead a quiet, unobtrusive life of self-devotion, whereas\nTowneley was not, so far as he could see, trying to do anything of the\nkind; he was only trying to get on comfortably in the world, and to look\nand be as nice as possible. And he was nice, and Ernest knew that such\nmen as himself and Pryer were not nice, and his old dejection came over\nhim. Then came an even worse reflection; how if he had fallen among material\nthieves as well as spiritual ones? He knew very little of how his money\nwas going on; he had put it all now into Pryer's hands, and though Pryer\ngave him cash to spend whenever he wanted it, he seemed impatient of\nbeing questioned as to what was being done with the principal. It was\npart of the understanding, he said, that that was to be left to him, and\nErnest had better stick to this, or he, Pryer, would throw up the College\nof Spiritual Pathology altogether; and so Ernest was cowed into\nacquiescence, or cajoled, according to the humour in which Pryer saw him\nto be. Ernest thought that further questions would look as if he doubted\nPryer's word, and also that he had gone too far to be able to recede in\ndecency or honour. This, however, he felt was riding out to meet trouble\nunnecessarily. Pryer had been a little impatient, but he was a gentleman\nand an admirable man of business, so his money would doubtless come back\nto him all right some day. Ernest comforted himself as regards this last source of anxiety, but as\nregards the other, he began to feel as though, if he was to be saved, a\ngood Samaritan must hurry up from somewhere--he knew not whence. Next day he felt stronger again. He had been listening to the voice of\nthe evil one on the night before, and would parley no more with such\nthoughts. He had chosen his profession, and his duty was to persevere\nwith it. If he was unhappy it was probably because he was not giving up\nall for Christ. Let him see whether he could not do more than he was\ndoing now, and then perhaps a light would be shed upon his path. It was all very well to have made the discovery that he didn't very much\nlike poor people, but he had got to put up with them, for it was among\nthem that his work must lie. Such men as Towneley were very kind and\nconsiderate, but he knew well enough it was only on condition that he did\nnot preach to them. He could manage the poor better, and, let Pryer\nsneer as he liked, he was resolved to go more among them, and try the\neffect of bringing Christ to them if they would not come and seek Christ\nof themselves. He would begin with his own house. Who then should he take first? Surely he could not do better than begin\nwith the tailor who lived immediately over his head. This would be\ndesirable, not only because he was the one who seemed to stand most in\nneed of conversion, but also because, if he were once converted, he would\nno longer beat his wife at two o'clock in the morning, and the house\nwould be much pleasanter in consequence. He would therefore go upstairs\nat once, and have a quiet talk with this man. Before doing so, he thought it would be well if he were to draw up\nsomething like a plan of a campaign; he therefore reflected over some\npretty conversations which would do very nicely if Mr Holt would be kind\nenough to make the answers proposed for him in their proper places. But\nthe man was a great hulking fellow, of a savage temper, and Ernest was\nforced to admit that unforeseen developments might arise to disconcert\nhim. They say it takes nine tailors to make a man, but Ernest felt that\nit would take at least nine Ernests to make a Mr Holt. How if, as soon\nas Ernest came in, the tailor were to become violent and abusive? What\ncould he do? Mr Holt was in his own lodgings, and had a right to be\nundisturbed. A legal right, yes, but had he a moral right? Ernest\nthought not, considering his mode of life. But put this on one side; if\nthe man were to be violent, what should he do? Paul had fought with wild\nbeasts at Ephesus--that must indeed have been awful--but perhaps they\nwere not very wild wild beasts; a rabbit and a canary are wild beasts;\nbut, formidable or not as wild beasts go, they would, nevertheless stand\nno chance against St Paul, for he was inspired; the miracle would have\nbeen if the wild beasts escaped, not that St Paul should have done so;\nbut, however all this might be, Ernest felt that he dared not begin to\nconvert Mr Holt by fighting him. Why, when he had heard Mrs Holt\nscreaming \"murder,\" he had cowered under the bed clothes and waited,\nexpecting to hear the blood dripping through the ceiling on to his own\nfloor. His imagination translated every sound into a pat, pat, pat, and\nonce or twice he thought he had felt it dropping on to his counterpane,\nbut he had never gone upstairs to try and rescue poor Mrs Holt. Happily\nit had proved next morning that Mrs Holt was in her usual health. Ernest was in despair about hitting on any good way of opening up\nspiritual communication with his neighbour, when it occurred to him that\nhe had better perhaps begin by going upstairs, and knocking very gently\nat Mr Holt's door. He would then resign himself to the guidance of the\nHoly Spirit, and act as the occasion, which, I suppose, was another name\nfor the Holy Spirit, suggested. Triply armed with this reflection, he\nmounted the stairs quite jauntily, and was about to knock when he heard\nHolt's voice inside swearing savagely at his wife. This made him pause\nto think whether after all the moment was an auspicious one, and while he\nwas thus pausing, Mr Holt, who had heard that someone was on the stairs,\nopened the door and put his head out. When he saw Ernest, he made an\nunpleasant, not to say offensive movement, which might or might not have\nbeen directed at Ernest and looked altogether so ugly that my hero had an\ninstantaneous and unequivocal revelation from the Holy Spirit to the\neffect that he should continue his journey upstairs at once, as though he\nhad never intended arresting it at Mr Holt's room, and begin by\nconverting Mr and Mrs Baxter, the Methodists in the top floor front. So\nthis was what he did. These good people received him with open arms, and were quite ready to\ntalk.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He was beginning to convert them from Methodism to the Church of\nEngland, when all at once he found himself embarrassed by discovering\nthat he did not know what he was to convert them from. He knew the\nChurch of England, or thought he did, but he knew nothing of Methodism\nbeyond its name. When he found that, according to Mr Baxter, the\nWesleyans had a vigorous system of Church discipline (which worked\nadmirably in practice) it appeared to him that John Wesley had\nanticipated the spiritual engine which he and Pryer were preparing, and\nwhen he left the room he was aware that he had caught more of a spiritual\nTartar than he had expected. But he must certainly explain to Pryer that\nthe Wesleyans had a system of Church discipline. This was very\nimportant. Mr Baxter advised Ernest on no account to meddle with Mr Holt, and Ernest\nwas much relieved at the advice. If an opportunity arose of touching the\nman's heart, he would take it; he would pat the children on the head when\nhe saw them on the stairs, and ingratiate himself with them as far as he\ndared; they were sturdy youngsters, and Ernest was afraid even of them,\nfor they were ready with their tongues, and knew much for their ages. Ernest felt that it would indeed be almost better for him that a\nmillstone should be hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than\nthat he should offend one of the little Holts. However, he would try not\nto offend them; perhaps an occasional penny or two might square them. This was as much as he could do, for he saw that the attempt to be\ninstant out of season, as well as in season, would, St Paul's injunction\nnotwithstanding, end in failure. Mrs Baxter gave a very bad account of Miss Emily Snow, who lodged in the\nsecond floor back next to Mr Holt. Her story was quite different from\nthat of Mrs Jupp the landlady. She would doubtless be only too glad to\nreceive Ernest's ministrations or those of any other gentleman, but she\nwas no governess, she was in the ballet at Drury Lane, and besides this,\nshe was a very bad young woman, and if Mrs Baxter was landlady would not\nbe allowed to stay in the house a single hour, not she indeed. Miss Maitland in the next room to Mrs Baxter's own was a quiet and\nrespectable young woman to all appearance; Mrs Baxter had never known of\nany goings on in that quarter, but, bless you, still waters run deep, and\nthese girls were all alike, one as bad as the other. She was out at all\nkinds of hours, and when you knew that you knew all. Ernest did not pay much heed to these aspersions of Mrs Baxter's. Mrs\nJupp had got round the greater number of his many blind sides, and had\nwarned him not to believe Mrs Baxter, whose lip she said was something\nawful. Ernest had heard that women were always jealous of one another, and\ncertainly these young women were more attractive than Mrs Baxter was, so\njealousy was probably at the bottom of it. If they were maligned there\ncould be no objection to his making their acquaintance; if not maligned\nthey had all the more need of his ministrations. He would reclaim them\nat once. He told Mrs Jupp of his intention. Mrs Jupp at first tried to dissuade\nhim, but seeing him resolute, suggested that she should herself see Miss\nSnow first, so as to prepare her and prevent her from being alarmed by\nhis visit. She was not at home now, but in the course of the next day,\nit should be arranged. In the meantime he had better try Mr Shaw, the\ntinker, in the front kitchen. Mrs Baxter had told Ernest that Mr Shaw\nwas from the North Country, and an avowed freethinker; he would probably,\nshe said, rather like a visit, but she did not think Ernest would stand\nmuch chance of making a convert of him. Before going down into the kitchen to convert the tinker Ernest ran\nhurriedly over his analysis of Paley's evidences, and put into his pocket\na copy of Archbishop Whateley's \"Historic Doubts.\" Then he descended the\ndark rotten old stairs and knocked at the tinker's door. Mr Shaw was\nvery civil; he said he was rather throng just now, but if Ernest did not\nmind the sound of hammering he should be very glad of a talk with him. Our hero, assenting to this, ere long led the conversation to Whateley's\n\"Historic Doubts\"--a work which, as the reader may know, pretends to show\nthat there never was any such person as Napoleon Buonaparte, and thus\nsatirises the arguments of those who have attacked the Christian\nmiracles. Mr Shaw said he knew \"Historic Doubts\" very well. \"And what you think of it?\" said Ernest, who regarded the pamphlet as a\nmasterpiece of wit and cogency. \"If you really want to know,\" said Mr Shaw, with a sly twinkle, \"I think\nthat he who was so willing and able to prove that what was was not, would\nbe equally able and willing to make a case for thinking that what was not\nwas, if it suited his purpose.\" Ernest was very much taken aback. How\nwas it that all the clever people of Cambridge had never put him up to\nthis simple rejoinder? The answer is easy: they did not develop it for\nthe same reason that a hen had never developed webbed feet--that is to\nsay, because they did not want to do so; but this was before the days of\nEvolution, and Ernest could not as yet know anything of the great\nprinciple that underlies it. \"You see,\" continued Mr Shaw, \"these writers all get their living by\nwriting in a certain way, and the more they write in that way, the more\nthey are likely to get on. You should not call them dishonest for this\nany more than a judge should call a barrister dishonest for earning his\nliving by defending one in whose innocence he does not seriously believe;\nbut you should hear the barrister on the other side before you decide\nupon the case.\" This was another facer. Ernest could only stammer that he had\nendeavoured to examine these questions as carefully as he could. \"You think you have,\" said Mr Shaw; \"you Oxford and Cambridge gentlemen\nthink you have examined everything. I have examined very little myself\nexcept the bottoms of old kettles and saucepans, but if you will answer\nme a few questions, I will tell you whether or no you have examined much\nmore than I have.\" Ernest expressed his readiness to be questioned. \"Then,\" said the tinker, \"give me the story of the Resurrection of Jesus\nChrist as told in St John's gospel.\" I am sorry to say that Ernest mixed up the four accounts in a deplorable\nmanner; he even made the angel come down and roll away the stone and sit\nupon it. He was covered with confusion when the tinker first told him\nwithout the book of some of his many inaccuracies, and then verified his\ncriticisms by referring to the New Testament itself. \"Now,\" said Mr Shaw good naturedly, \"I am an old man and you are a young\none, so perhaps you'll not mind my giving you a piece of advice. I like\nyou, for I believe you mean well, but you've been real bad brought up,\nand I don't think you have ever had so much as a chance yet. You know\nnothing of our side of the question, and I have just shown you that you\ndo not know much more of your own, but I think you will make a kind of\nCarlyle sort of a man some day. Now go upstairs and read the accounts of\nthe Resurrection correctly without mixing them up, and have a clear idea\nof what it is that each writer tells us, then if you feel inclined to pay\nme another visit I shall be glad to see you, for I shall know you have\nmade a good beginning and mean business. Till then, Sir, I must wish you\na very good morning.\" Ernest retreated abashed. An hour sufficed him to perform the task\nenjoined upon him by Mr Shaw; and at the end of that hour the \"No, no,\nno,\" which still sounded in his ears as he heard it from Towneley, came\nringing up more loudly still from the very pages of the Bible itself, and\nin respect of the most important of all the events which are recorded in\nit. Surely Ernest's first day's attempt at more promiscuous visiting,\nand at carrying out his principles more thoroughly, had not been\nunfruitful. But he must go and have a talk with Pryer. He therefore got\nhis lunch and went to Pryer's lodgings. Pryer not being at home, he\nlounged to the British Museum Reading Room, then recently opened, sent\nfor the \"Vestiges of Creation,\" which he had never yet seen, and spent\nthe rest of the afternoon in reading it.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Ernest did not see Pryer on the day of his conversation with Mr Shaw, but\nhe did so next morning and found him in a good temper, which of late he\nhad rarely been. Sometimes, indeed, he had behaved to Ernest in a way\nwhich did not bode well for the harmony with which the College of\nSpiritual Pathology would work when it had once been founded. It almost\nseemed as though he were trying to get a complete moral ascendency over\nhim, so as to make him a creature of his own. He did not think it possible that he could go too far, and indeed, when I\nreflect upon my hero's folly and inexperience, there is much to be said\nin excuse for the conclusion which Pryer came to. As a matter of fact, however, it was not so. Ernest's faith in Pryer had\nbeen too great to be shaken down all in a moment, but it had been\nweakened lately more than once. Ernest had fought hard against allowing\nhimself to see this, nevertheless any third person who knew the pair\nwould have been able to see that the connection between the two might end\nat any moment, for when the time for one of Ernest's snipe-like changes\nof flight came, he was quick in making it; the time, however, was not yet\ncome, and the intimacy between the two was apparently all that it had\never been. It was only that horrid money business (so said Ernest to\nhimself) that caused any unpleasantness between them, and no doubt Pryer\nwas right, and he, Ernest, much too nervous. However, that might stand\nover for the present. In like manner, though he had received a shock by reason of his\nconversation with Mr Shaw, and by looking at the \"Vestiges,\" he was as\nyet too much stunned to realise the change which was coming over him. In\neach case the momentum of old habits carried him forward in the old\ndirection. He therefore called on Pryer, and spent an hour and more with\nhim. He did not say that he had been visiting among his neighbours; this to\nPryer would have been like a red rag to a bull. He only talked in much\nhis usual vein about the proposed College, the lamentable want of\ninterest in spiritual things which was characteristic of modern society,\nand other kindred matters; he concluded by saying that for the present he\nfeared Pryer was indeed right, and that nothing could be done. \"As regards the laity,\" said Pryer, \"nothing; not until we have a\ndiscipline which we can enforce with pains and penalties. How can a\nsheep dog work a flock of sheep unless he can bite occasionally as well\nas bark? But as regards ourselves we can do much.\" Pryer's manner was strange throughout the conversation, as though he were\nthinking all the time of something else. His eyes wandered curiously\nover Ernest, as Ernest had often noticed them wander before: the words\nwere about Church discipline, but somehow or other the discipline part of\nthe story had a knack of dropping out after having been again and again\nemphatically declared to apply to the laity and not to the clergy: once\nindeed Pryer had pettishly exclaimed: \"Oh, bother the College of\nSpiritual Pathology.\" As regards the clergy, glimpses of a pretty large\ncloven hoof kept peeping out from under the saintly robe of Pryer's\nconversation, to the effect, that so long as they were theoretically\nperfect, practical peccadilloes--or even peccadaccios, if there is such a\nword, were of less importance. He was restless, as though wanting to\napproach a subject which he did not quite venture to touch upon, and kept\nharping (he did this about every third day) on the wretched lack of\ndefinition concerning the limits of vice and virtue, and the way in which\nhalf the vices wanted regulating rather than prohibiting. He dwelt also\non the advantages of complete unreserve, and hinted that there were\nmysteries into which Ernest had not yet been initiated, but which would\nenlighten him when he got to know them, as he would be allowed to do when\nhis friends saw that he was strong enough. Pryer had often been like this before, but never so nearly, as it seemed\nto Ernest, coming to a point--though what the point was he could not\nfully understand. His inquietude was communicating itself to Ernest, who\nwould probably ere long have come to know as much as Pryer could tell\nhim, but the conversation was abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a\nvisitor. We shall never know how it would have ended, for this was the\nvery last time that Ernest ever saw Pryer. Perhaps Pryer was going to\nbreak to him some bad news about his speculations. Ernest now went home and occupied himself till luncheon with studying\nDean Alford's notes upon the various Evangelistic records of the\nResurrection, doing as Mr Shaw had told him, and trying to find out not\nthat they were all accurate, but whether they were all accurate or no. He\ndid not care which result he should arrive at, but he was resolved that\nhe would reach one or the other. When he had finished Dean Alford's\nnotes he found them come to this, namely, that no one yet had succeeded\nin bringing the four accounts into tolerable harmony with each other, and\nthat the Dean, seeing no chance of succeeding better than his\npredecessors had done, recommended that the whole story should be taken\non trust--and this Ernest was not prepared to do. He got his luncheon, went out for a long walk, and returned to dinner at\nhalf past six. While Mrs Jupp was getting him his dinner--a steak and a\npint of stout--she told him that Miss Snow would be very happy to see him\nin about an hour's time. This disconcerted him, for his mind was too\nunsettled for him to wish to convert anyone just then. He reflected a\nlittle, and found that, in spite of the sudden shock to his opinions, he\nwas being irresistibly drawn to pay the visit as though nothing had\nhappened. It would not look well for him not to go, for he was known to\nbe in the house. He ought not to be in too great a hurry to change his\nopinions on such a matter as the evidence for Christ's Resurrection all\nof a sudden--besides he need not talk to Miss Snow about this subject to-\nday--there were other things he might talk about. What other things? Ernest felt his heart beat fast and fiercely, and an inward monitor\nwarned him that he was thinking of anything rather than of Miss Snow's\nsoul. What should he do? Fly, fly, fly--it was the only safety. But would\nChrist have fled? Even though Christ had not died and risen from the\ndead there could be no question that He was the model whose example we\nwere bound to follow. Christ would not have fled from Miss Snow; he was\nsure of that, for He went about more especially with prostitutes and\ndisreputable people. Now, as then, it was the business of the true\nChristian to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance. It would\nbe inconvenient to him to change his lodgings, and he could not ask Mrs\nJupp to turn Miss Snow and Miss Maitland out of the house. Where was he\nto draw the line? Who would be just good enough to live in the same\nhouse with him, and who just not good enough? Besides, where were these poor girls to go? Was he to drive them from\nhouse to house till they had no place to lie in? It was absurd; his duty\nwas clear: he would go and see Miss Snow at once, and try if he could not\ninduce her to change her present mode of life; if he found temptation\nbecoming too strong for him he would fly then--so he went upstairs with\nhis Bible under his arm, and a consuming fire in his heart. He found Miss Snow looking very pretty in a neatly, not to say demurely,\nfurnished room. I think she had bought an illuminated text or two, and\npinned it up over her fireplace that morning. Ernest was very much\npleased with her, and mechanically placed his Bible upon the table. He\nhad just opened a timid conversation and was deep in blushes, when a\nhurried step came bounding up the stairs as though of one over whom the\nforce of gravity had little power, and a man burst into the room saying,\n\"I'm come before my time.\" It was Towneley. His face dropped as he caught sight of Ernest. \"What, you here,\nPontifex! Well, upon my word!\" I cannot describe the hurried explanations that passed quickly between\nthe three--enough that in less than a minute Ernest, blushing more\nscarlet than ever, slunk off, Bible and all, deeply humiliated as he\ncontrasted himself and Towneley. Before he had reached the bottom of the\nstaircase leading to his own room he heard Towneley's hearty laugh\nthrough Miss Snow's door, and cursed the hour that he was born.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Then it flashed upon him that if he could not see Miss Snow he could at\nany rate see Miss Maitland. He knew well enough what he wanted now, and\nas for the Bible, he pushed it from him to the other end of his table. It\nfell over on to the floor, and he kicked it into a corner. It was the\nBible given him at his christening by his affectionate aunt, Elizabeth\nAllaby. True, he knew very little of Miss Maitland, but ignorant young\nfools in Ernest's state do not reflect or reason closely. Mrs Baxter had\nsaid that Miss Maitland and Miss Snow were birds of a feather, and Mrs\nBaxter probably knew better than that old liar, Mrs Jupp. Shakespeare\nsays:\n\n   O Opportunity, thy guilt is great\n   'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's treason:\n   Thou set'st the wolf where he the lamb may get;\n   Whoever plots the sin, thou 'point'st the season;\n   'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason;\n   And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him,\n   Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by him. If the guilt of opportunity is great, how much greater is the guilt of\nthat which is believed to be opportunity, but in reality is no\nopportunity at all. If the better part of valour is discretion, how much\nmore is not discretion the better part of vice\n\nAbout ten minutes after we last saw Ernest, a scared, insulted girl,\nflushed and trembling, was seen hurrying from Mrs Jupp's house as fast as\nher agitated state would let her, and in another ten minutes two\npolicemen were seen also coming out of Mrs Jupp's, between whom there\nshambled rather than walked our unhappy friend Ernest, with staring eyes,\nghastly pale, and with despair branded upon every line of his face.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-09", "answer": "Ernest, Towneley, Mrs. Jupp, Mr. Holt, Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Mr. Shaw, Miss Snow, Miss Maitland, Overton, stock market prayer, saving souls, neighborhood canvassing, devil's voice, physical harm, Methodism conversion, Resurrection doubt, moral character, Bible kicking, intrusion, police officer, arrest, attempted assault, college friend, tenants, spiritual crisis, faith undermined, moral ruin, untimely arrival, appointed time, religious zeal, impatience, lost souls"}]