And now was sent Godfrey to her aid, a teacher himself far behind
his pupil, inasmuch as he was more occupied with what he was,
than what he had to become: the weakest may be sent to give the
strongest saving help; even the foolish may mediate between the
wise and the wiser; and Godfrey presented Mary to men greater
than himself, whom in a short time she would understand even
better than he. Book after book he lent her--now and then gave
her one of the best--introducing her, with no special intention,
to much in the way of religion that was good in the way of
literature as well. Only where he delighted mainly in the
literature, she delighted more in the religion. Some of my
readers will be able to imagine what it must have been to a
capable, clear-thinking, warm-hearted, loving soul like Mary,
hitherto in absolute ignorance of any better religious poetry
than the chapel hymn-book afforded her, to make acquaintance with
George Herbert, with Henry Vaughan, with Giles Fletcher, with
Richard Crashaw, with old Mason, not to mention Milton, and
afterward our own Father Newman and Father Faber.
But it was by no means chiefly upon such that Godfrey led the
talk on the Sunday afternoons. A lover of all truly imaginative
literature, his knowledge of it was large, nor confined to that
of his own country, although that alone was at present available
for either of his pupils.
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