re in accordance with the constitution
of human nature than yours." He might have added, that there is nothing
in the New Testament which forbids to Christians any of the innocent
pleasures of this life: the Christian may lawfully appropriate them.
His system does not constrain him to hermit-like austerity or Puritanic
grimace. He may enjoy them, just as a wise man, who will not sacrifice
any of the interests of next year for a transient gratification of
the passing hour, does not deny himself any legitimate pleasure which
is not inconsistent with the more momentous interest. The pilgrim drinks
and rests at the fountain though he does not dream of setting up his
tent there.

"Nay," said Fellowes, "but think again of the 'gigantic lie' of making
the future world the supreme object, and yet living wholly for this."

"If that be the case," said I, joining in their talk, "there is no
doubt a 'gigantic lie' somewhere; but the question is, Who tells it?
It does not follow that it is Christianity. You may see every day men
nay, losing, some important advantages by loitering away the very
hour which is to secure them,--in reading a novel, enjoying a social
hour, lying in bed, and what not. You do not conclude that the man's
estimate of the future--his philosophy of that--is any the more
questionable for this folly? The ruthless future comes and makes
his heart ache; and so may it be with Christianity for aught any
such considerations imply. Your argument only proves that, if
Christianity be true, man is an inconsistent fool; and, in my
judgment, that was proved long before Christianity was born or
thought of."

"Your theology," cried Harrington, "fairly carried out, would lead
most men to the 'Epicurean sty' which, sceptic as I am, I loathe
the thought of; it deserves the rebuke which Johnson gave the man
who pleaded for a 'natural and savage condition,' as he called it.
'Sir,' said the Doctor, 'it is a brutal doctrine; a bull might as
well say, I have this grass and this cow,--and what can a creature
want more?' No, I am sure that the Christian or any other
religionist--inconsistent though he is--appeals in this point
deeper analogies of our nature than you."

"But the fact is," said Fellowes, "that the Christian depreciates
the innocent pleasures of this life."

And my uncle would say it is his own fault then."

"Nay, but hear me. I conceive that nothing could be more natural,
as several of our writers have remarked,