spute were very interesting, threw aside my work,
whatever it was, and reported them pretty copiously. Hence the
completeness and accuracy of this admirable journal. I cannot of
course always, or even often, vouch for the ipsissima verba; and some
few explanatory sentences I have been obliged to add. But the substance
of the dialogues is faithfully given. I need not say, that they refer
only to subjects of a theological and polemical nature.

I hardly know how the conversation took the turn it did on the present
occasion; but I think it was from Mr. Fellowes's noticing Harrington's
pale looks, and conjecturing all sorts of reasons for his occasional
lapses into melancholy.

His friend hoped this and hoped that, as usual.

Harrington at last, seeing his curiosity awakened, and that he would
go on conjecturing all sorts of things, said, "To terminate your
suspense, be it known to that I am a bankrupt!"

"A bankrupt!" said the other, with evident alarm; "you surely have
not been so unwise as to risk recently acquired property, or to
speculate in----"

"You have hit it," said Harrington; "I have speculated far more
deeply than you suppose."

The countenance of his friend lengthened visibly.

"Be not alarmed." resumed Harrington, with a smile; "I mean that
I have speculated a good deal in--philosophy, and when I
said I was a bankrupt, I meant only that I was a bankrupt--in faith;
having become in fact, since I saw you last, thoroughly sceptical."

The countenance of Fellowes contracted to its proper dimensions. He
looked even cheerful to find that his friend had merely lost his
faith, and not his fortune.

"Is that all?" said he, "I am heartily glad to hear it. Sceptic! No,
no; you must not be a sceptic either, except for a time," continued
he, musing very sagely. "It is no bad thing for a while: for it at
least leaves the house 'empty, swept and garnished.'"

"Rather an unhappy application of your remnant of Biblical knowledge,"
said Harrington; "I hope you do not intend to go on with the text."

"No, no, my dear friend; I warrant you we shall find you worthier
guests than any such fragments of supposed revelation. If you are in
'search of a religion,' how happy should I be to aid you!"

"I shall be infinitely obliged to you," said Harrington, gravely;
"for at present I do not know that I possess a farthing's worth of
solid gold in the world. Ah! that it were but in your power to lend
me some: but I fear" (he