“Rectory, Brecon.
“DEAR SIR,
“I am seventy; at seventeen I had read more novels and other
literature than nine out of ten lads of my age. For years past
I can’t read novels. My daughters sometimes induce me to start
one, but after a couple of chapters I throw it on one side
feeling strongly inclined to exclaim with Conan Doyle’s
school-boy, ‘Rot.’
“After reading the _Life of Father Dolling_, one of my married
daughters brought me _When it was Dark_, which I promised to
read, and enjoyed it very much. My wife _devoured_ it.
“This won’t interest you very much, but the following fact may.
A few days after finishing your book our rural
post-messenger--an old army man--we live quite in the
country--came to me, quite confidentially, and said he had a
book he was quite sure I should enjoy; he produced it--it was
_When it was Dark!_ Poor fellow! he seemed so disappointed when
he found I had read it. A fortnight ago an Irish lady and her
daughter stayed with us. They were _good church women_. They
left me a book for perusal. It is _A Lost Cause_. I have read
it and enjoyed it. It reminds me of Father Dolling and Kensit
and Son.
“I hope you will give us many more. We want Catholic truth
placed before people in an attractive dress. We want to break
down the great wall of Protestant ignorance and prejudice. Your
books are doing this.
“Don’t heed letters in the Daily Press. I saw a letter in the
_Daily Mail_. These letters are only a proof that your books
are _telling_. Go straight forward and may every success and
blessing attend your efforts. This is the earnest wish of
“Yours truly.”