PREFACE 



of thought into my amazed mind: " A bird flying 

 backwards ! The impossible coming to pass ! The 

 end of the world ! " I rushed indoors and up- 

 stairs, and hid under my cot in terror. Such is 

 the state of nerves to which too much religion of 

 the frightening kind can reduce a child of five. 



Removed to home surroundings by the return 

 of my mother from India, the end of the world 

 and my own certain damnation were still my ter- 

 rors in the night; and by day I must have been 

 rather a terror to my seniors with my constant 

 efforts to get some light on the subject. They 

 could not solve my difficulties ; so they put me off 

 by saying that we must believe without ques- 

 tioning. 



When I grew older, the problem of course, 

 an old one presented itself: Why is it wicked 

 to ask questions? We have been given reasoning 

 power by God: and one could understand that it 

 might be wicked to refuse to use God's gift. But 

 how can it be wicked to use this in relation to the 

 most important fact of existence, namely, the 

 future of one's soul? 



So I tried to reason the thing out: but the 

 more I tried the more wrong and cruel everything 

 seemed to be. 



But that was only because the reasoning did 

 not go quite far enough. By slow degrees I 



