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Updated: May 7, 2025
"I can only tell you," said Kate, "that he went away across the Fell in the direction of Bampton. Perhaps he has gone on to Penrith. He was very angry with us all; and as the house is not his own, he has probably resolved that he will not stay another night under the roof. But, who can say? He is not in his senses when he is angered."
When Mansel, in his Bampton lectures of 1858, showed that the finite intellect is inadequate and helpless in trying to grasp the truth where infinity of any kind is involved, the cry was raised that he robbed reason of its glory and authority, tore away the very foundation of religion and of all truth, and opened the way to all kinds of skepticism.
"I have no idea who you are," he said, speaking with a faint north-country accent, "but you evidently know who I am and what has happened to me." "Got the boot?" asked Harley confidentially. Bampton, tossing the end of his cigarette into the grate, nodded grimly. "You haven't told me your name," he said, "but I think I can tell you your business." He ceased smiling.
I wish I could here print his answer, together with two or three other letters I received from him, but the packet was unfortunately stolen from my desk and I have never recovered it. Dr. Pusey advised me to read Liddon's "Bampton Lectures", referred me to various passages, chiefly from the Fourth Gospel, if I remember rightly, and invited me to go down to Oxford and talk over my difficulties.
John Miller's Bampton Lectures, now probably only remembered by a striking sentence, quoted in a note to the Christian Year, had impressed his readers with a deeper sense of the uses of Scripture. Cambridge, besides scholars like Bishop Kaye, and accomplished writers like Mr. Le Bas and Mr. Lyall, could boast of Mr. Hugh James Rose, the most eminent person of his generation as a divine.
If these utterances were true when they fell from the lips of a Bampton lecturer in 1859, with how much greater force do they appeal to us now, when the immense labours of the generation now passing away constitute one vast illustration of the power and fruitfulness of scientific methods of investigation in history, no less than in all other departments of knowledge.
It was proved by the constable who made the arrest that robbery had not been the motive of the assault, and Bampton confessed that he bore no grudge against the assailed man, indeed, that he had never seen him before. He pleaded intoxication, and the police surgeon testified that although not actually intoxicated, his breath had smelled strongly of liquor at the time of his arrest.
The road from Bampton to Dulverton had not been very delicate, yet nothing to complain of much no deeper, indeed, than the hocks of a horse, except in the rotten places.
Knox. Simply tell me in as few words as possible what led you to court arrest in that manner." "Right," replied Bampton, "I will." He half closed his eyes, reflectively. "I was having tea in the Lyons' cafe, to which I always go, last Monday afternoon about four o'clock, when a man sat down facing me and got into conversation." "Describe him!" "He was a man rather above medium height.
"Number one: Who paid you to smash Major Ragstaff's white hat? Number two: How much did he pay you?" To these questions I listened in amazement, and my amazement was evidently shared by Bampton. He had been in the act of lighting his cigarette, but he allowed the match to burn down nearly to his fingers and then dropped it with a muttered exclamation in the fire.
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