say that
a religion is untrue, the believer has a perfect right to ask me for
proofs of my assertion; but he has no right to ask me for a new promise.
Suppose I say this thing is not true, and to believe anything which is
untrue is useless. Then, the believer may justly demand my reasons. But
he has no right to ask me for a new dream in place of the old one. I am
not a prophet, with promises of crowns and glories in my gift.

But yet I will answer this queer question as fully as I can.

I do not say there is no God. I do not say there is no "Heaven," nor
that the soul is not immortal. There is not enough evidence to justify
me in making such assertions.

I only say, on those subjects, that I do not _know_.

I do not know about those things. There may be a God, there may be a
"Heaven," there may be an immortal soul. And a man might accept all I
say about religion without giving up any hope his faith may bid him hold
as to a future life.

As to those "counsels of despair" the question puzzles me. Despair of
what?

Let me put the matter as I see it. I think sometimes, in a dubious
way, that perhaps there may be a life beyond the grave. And that is
interesting. But I think my stronger, and deeper, and more permanent
feeling is that when we die we die finally, and for us there is no more
life at all. That is, I suppose, my real belief--or supposition. But do
I despair? Why should I? The idea of immortality does not elate me very
much. As I said just now, it is interesting. But I am not excited about
it. If there is another innings, we will go in and play our best; and we
hope we shall be very much better and kinder than we have been. But if
it is sleep: well, sleep is rest, and as I feel that I have had a really
good time, on the whole, I should consider it greedy to cry because I
could not have it all over again. That is how I feel about it. Despair?
I am one of the happiest old fogeys in all London. I have found life
agreeable and amusing, and I'm glad I came. But I am not so infatuated
with life that I should care to go back and begin it all again. And
though a new start, in a new world, would be--yes, interesting--I am
not going to howl because old Daddy Death says it is bed-time. I think
somebody, or something, has been very good to allow me to come in and
see the fun, and stay so long, especially as I came in, so to speak "on
my face." But to beg for another invitation would be cheeky. Some of you
want such a l