ResignationtoGod’swillwasthecommondeviceofthesepeopleinthefaceofeverydutyandeveryemergency。Therewerenobooksinthehouse；Idoubtifeitherofthemhadretainedthecapacityforreadingconsecutivelyformorethanaminuteorso，anditwaswithamazementthatdayafterday，overandabovestalebread，onebeheldfoodandagainmorefoodamidstthelitterthatheldpermanentsessionontheliving-roomtable。
Onemighthavedoubtedifeitherofthemfeltdiscomfortinthisdustydarknessofexistence，ifitwasnotthattheydidvisiblyseekconsolation。TheysoughtthisandfounditofaSunday，notinstrongdrinkandraving，butinimaginarydraughtsofblood。
Theymetwithtwentyorthirtyotherdarkenedanduncleanpeople，alldressedindingycoloursthatwouldnotshowthedirt，inalittlebrick-builtchapelequippedwithaspavinedroarerofaharmonium，andtheresolacedtheirmindsonthethoughtthatallthatwasfairandfreeinlife，allthatstruggled，allthatplannedandmade，allprideandbeautyandhonour，allfineandenjoyablethings，wereirrevocablydamnedtoeverlastingtorments。Theyweretheself-appointedconfidantsofGod’smockeryofhisowncreation。Soatanyratetheystickinmymind。Vaguer，andyethardlylessagreeablethanthiscosmicjest，thiscoming“Yah，clever！”andgeneralservingoutand“showingup“ofthelucky，thebold，andthecheerful，wastheirownpredestinationtoGlory。
“ThereisaFountain，filledwithBloodDrawnfromEmmanuel’sVeins。”
sotheysang。Ihearthedroneandwheezeofthathymnnow。I
hatedthemwiththebitteruncharitablecondemnationofboyhood，andatwingeofthathatecomesbacktome。AsIwritethewords，thesoundsandthenthescenereturn，theseobscure，undignifiedpeople，afatwomanwithasthma，anoldWelshmilk-sellerwithatumouronhisbaldhead，whowastheintellectualleaderofthesect，ahuge-voicedhaberdasherwithabigblackbeard，awhite-faced，extraordinarilypregnantwoman，hiswife，aspectacledratecollectorwithabentback。I
hearthetalkaboutsouls，thestrangebatteredoldphrasesthatwerecoinedagesagointheseaportsofthesun-dryLevant，ofbalmofGileadandmannainthedesert，ofgourdsthatgiveshadeandwaterinathirstyland；Irecallagainthewayinwhichattheconclusionoftheservicethetalkremainedpiousinformbutbecamemedicalinsubstance，andhowthewomengottogetherforobstetricwhisperings。I，asaboy，didnotmatter，andmightoverhear。
IfBladesoverismykeyfortheexplanationofEngland，IthinkmyinvinciblepersuasionthatIunderstandRussiawasengenderedbythecircleofUncleFrapp。
IsleptinadingysheetedbedwiththetwoeldersurvivorsofFrappfecundity，andspentmyweekdaysinhelpinginthelaboriousdisorderoftheshopandbakehouse，inincidentaldeliveriesofbreadandsoforth，andinparryingtheprobingsofmyuncleintomyrelationswiththeBlood，andhisconfidentialexplanationsthattenshillingsaweek——whichwaswhatmymotherpaidhim——wasnotenoughtocovermyaccommodation。Hewasveryanxioustokeepthat，butalsohewantedmore。Therewereneitherbooksnoranyseatnorcornerinthathousewherereadingwaspossible，nonewspapereverbroughttheclashofworldlythingsintoitsheavenwardseclusion；horrorofitallgrewinmedaily，andwheneverIcouldIescapedintothestreetsandtrampedaboutChatham。Thenewsshopsappealedtomeparticularly。Onesawtheresmudgyillustratedsheets，thePoliceNewsinparticular，inwhichvilelydrawnpicturesbroughthometothedullestintelligenceaninterminablesuccessionofsqualidcrimes，womenmurderedandputintoboxes，buriedunderfloors，oldmenbludgeonedatmidnightbyrobbers，peoplethrustsuddenlyoutoftrains，happyloversshot，vitrioledandsoforthbyrivals。Igotmyfirstglimpseofthelifeofpleasureinfoullydrawnpicturesof“policeraids“onthisandthat。
InterspersedwiththesesheetswereothersinwhichSloper，theurbanJohnBull，hadhisflingwithginbottleandobeseumbrella，orthekindlyemptyfacesoftheRoyalFamilyappearedandreappeared，visitingthis，openingthat，gettingmarried，gettingoffspring，lyinginstate，doingeverythingbutanything，awonderful，good-meaning，impenetrableraceapart。
IhaveneverrevisitedChatham；theimpressionithasleftonmymindisoneofsqualidcompression，unlitbyanygleamofamaturercharity。AllitseffectsarrangedthemselvesasantitheticaltotheBladesovereffects。TheyconfirmedandintensifiedallthatBladesoversuggested。Bladesoverdeclareditselftobetheland，tobeessentiallyEngland；Ihavealreadytoldhowitsairyspaciousness，itswidedignity，seemedtothrustvillage，church，andvicarageintocorners，intoasecondaryandconditionalsignificance。Hereonegatheredthecorollaryofthat。SincethewholewidecountryofKentwasmadeupofcontiguousBladesoversandforthegentlefolk，thesurplusofpopulation，allwhowerenotgoodtenantsnorgoodlabourers，ChurchofEngland，submissiveandrespectful，werenecessarilythrusttogether，jostledoutofsight，tofesterastheymightinthisplacethathadthecoloursandeventhesmellsofawell-packeddustbin。Theyshouldbegratefulevenforthat；that，onefelt，wasthetheoryofitall。
AndIloafedaboutthiswildernessofcrowdeddinginess，withyoung，receptive，wide-openeyes，andthroughtheblessingorcurseofsomefairygodmotherofmine，askingandaskingagain：
“Butafterall，WHY——“
IwanderedupthroughRochesteronce，andhadaglimpseoftheStourvalleyabovethetown，allhorriblewithcementworksandfoullysmokingchimneysandrowsofworkmen’scottages，minute，ugly，uncomfortable，andgrimy。SoIhadmyfirstintimationofhowindustrialismmustliveinalandlord’sland。Ispentsomehours，too，inthestreetsthatgiveupontheriver，drawnbythespellofthesea。ButIsawbargesandshipsstrippedofmagicandmostlydevotedtocement，ice，timber，andcoal。Thesailorslookedtomegrossandslovenlymen，andtheshippingstruckmeasclumsy，ugly，old，anddirty。Idiscoveredthatmostsailsdon’tfittheshipsthathoistthem，andthattheremaybeaspitifulandsqualidadisplayofpovertywithavesselaswithaman。WhenIsawcolliersunloading，watchedtheworkersintheholdfillingupsillylittlesacksandthesuccessionofblackened，half-nakedmenthatrantoandfrowiththesealongaplankoverathirty-footdropintofilthandmud，Iwasfirstseizedwithadmirationoftheircourageandtoughnessandthen，“Butafterall，WHY——？”andthestupiduglinessofallthiswasteofmuscleandendurancecamehometome。Amongotherthingsitobviouslywastedanddeterioratedthecoal。AndIhadimaginedgreatthingsofthesea！
Well，anyhow，foratimethatvocationwasstilled。
Butsuchimpressionscameintomyleisure，andofthatIhadnoexcess。MostofmytimewasspentdoingthingsforUncleFrapp，andmyeveningsandnightsperforceinthecompanyofthetwoeldestofmycousins。Hewaserrandboyatanoilshopandferventlypious，andofhimIsawnothinguntiltheeveningexceptatmeals；theotherwasenjoyingthemidsummerholidayswithoutanygreatelation；asingularlythinandabject，stuntedcreaturehewas，whosechieflivelinesswastopretendtobeamonkey，andwhoIamnowconvincedhadsomesecretdiseasethatdrainedhisvitalityaway。IfImethimnowIshouldthinkhimapitifullittlecreatureandbeextremelysorryforhim。ThenI
feltonlyawonderingaversion。Hesniffedhorribly，hewastiredoutbyacoupleofmilesofloafing，heneverstartedanyconversation，andheseemedtopreferhisowncompanytomine。
Hismother，poorwoman，saidhewasthe“thoughtfulone。”
Serioustroublecamesuddenlyoutofaconversationweheldinbedonenight。Someparticularlypiousphraseofmyeldercousin’sirritatedmeextremely，andIavowedoutrightmyentiredisbeliefinthewholeschemeofrevealedreligion。Ihadneversaidawordaboutmydoubtstoanyonebefore，excepttoEwartwhohadfirstevolvedthem。IhadneversettledmydoubtsuntilatthismomentwhenIspoke。ButitcametomethenthatthewholeschemeofsalvationoftheFrappeswasnotsimplydoubtful，butimpossible。Ifiredthisdiscoveryoutintothedarknesswiththegreatestpromptitude。
Myabruptdenialscertainlyscaredmycousinamazingly。
AtfirsttheycouldnotunderstandwhatIwassaying，andwhentheydidIfullybelievetheyexpectedaninstantanswerinthunderboltsandflames。Theygavememoreroominthebedforthwith，andthentheeldersatupandexpressedhissenseofmyawfulness。Iwasalreadyalittlefrightenedatmytemerity，butwhenheaskedmecategoricallytounsaywhatIhadsaid，whatcouldIdobutconfirmmyrepudiation？
“There’snohell。”Isaid，“andnoeternalpunishment。NoGodwouldbesuchafoolasthat。”
Myeldercousincriedaloudinhorror，andtheyoungerlayscared，butlistening。“Thenyoumean。”saidmyeldercousin，whenatlasthecouldbringhimselftoargue，“youmightdojustasyouliked？”
“Ifyouwerecadenough。”saidI。
Ourlittlevoiceswentoninterminably，andatonestagemycousingotoutofbedandmadehisbrotherdolikewise，andkneltinthenightdimnessandprayedatme。ThatIfoundtrying，butIheldoutvaliantly。“Forgivehim，“saidmycousin，“heknowsnotwhathesayeth。”
“Youcanprayifyoulike。”Isaid，“butifyou’regoingtocheekmeinyourprayersIdrawtheline。”
ThelastIrememberofthatgreatdiscussionwasmycousindeploringthefactthathe“shouldeversleepinthesamebedwithanInfidel！”
Thenextdayheastonishedmebytellingthewholebusinesstohisfather。Thiswasquiteoutsideallmycodes。UncleNicodemussprangituponmeatthemiddaymeal。
“Youbeensayin’queerthings，George。”hesaidabruptly。“Youbettermindwhatyou’resaying。”
“Whatdidhesay，father？”saidMrs。Frapp。
“ThingsIcouldn’t’repeat。”saidhe。
“Whatthings？”Iaskedhotly。
“Ask’IM。”saidmyuncle，pointingwithhisknifetohisinformant，andmakingmerealisethenatureofmyoffence。Myauntlookedatthewitness。“Not——？”sheframedaquestion。
“Wuss。”saidmyuncle。“Blarsphemy。”
Myauntcouldn’ttouchanothermouthful。Iwasalreadyalittletroubledinmyconsciencebymydaring，andnowIbegantofeeltheblackenormityofthecourseuponwhichIhadembarked。
“Iwasonlytalkingsense。”Isaid。