The Henson Journals

[241]

24th Sunday after Trinity, November 14th, 1926.

Poor dear Marion's birthday. Time does not heal the wound which her tragic departure inflicted. How trivial beyond measure our plans & ambition are in front of the inexplicable sorrow of the world!

Yesterday, when watching the football match, I saw a swallow, and watched it for some time – a lingerer, for what fate in our northern winter is it reserved?

I celebrated the Holy Communion in the Chapel at 8 a.m. We numbered 8 communicants, including our two guests, and James. The wind is high, but the sun shines brightly, & the Chapel is ever at its best in the morning.

Ernest and I left the Castle at 9.20 a.m., and motored to Consett, where I preached to a congregation which crowded the Church. The urban district Council attended, and it was a good assembly. My sermon was closely listened to, and did, I think, make an impression. After the service we lunched with Fedden, and then returned to Auckland.

I wrote to William (P. O. Box. 5105. Johannesburg, S. A.) and to George Nimmins.

I finished reading "Pyrrho, a historical novel" by Bartram Tollinton, which was sent me as a birthday present by Jack Clayton. It is quite a good sketch of 3rd century life in the Roman Empire and merits a place alongside of "Callista" and "Hypatia". For the extremely poor type of man, which is commonly represented in our Ordination candidates, it might well be the case that such historical romances would be the most effective method of teaching them the broad features of ecclesiaastical history.

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