ch more like
pity than love in its common sense. If what I guess at is true, of all
the tragedies of existence I ever knew this is the saddest, and yet so
full of meaning! Do not ask me any questions,--I have said more than I
meant to already; but I am involved in strange doubts and
perplexities,--in dangers too, very possibly,--and it is a relief just to
speak ever so guardedly of them to an early and faithful friend.

Yours ever, BERNARD.

P. S. I remember you had a copy of Fortunius Licetus' "De Monstris"
among your old books. Can't you lend it to me for a while? I am
curious, and it will amuse me.

CHAPTER XVII.

OLD SOPHY CALLS ON THE REVEREND DOCTOR.

The two meeting-houses which faced each other like a pair of
fighting-cocks had not flapped their wings or crowed at each other for a
considerable time. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather had been dyspeptic and
low-spirited of late, and was too languid for controversy. The Reverend
Doctor Honeywood had been very busy with his benevolent associations, and
had discoursed chiefly on practical matters, to the neglect of special
doctrinal subjects. His senior deacon ventured to say to him that some
of his people required to be reminded of the great fundamental doctrine
of the worthlessness of all human efforts and motives. Some of them were
altogether too much pleased with the success of the Temperance Society
and the Association for the Relief of the Poor. There was a pestilent
heresy about, concerning the satisfaction to be derived from a good
conscience, as if, anybody ever did anything which was not to be hated,
loathed, despised, and condemned.

The old minister listened gravely, with an inward smile, and told his
deacon that he would attend to his suggestion. After the deacon had
gone, he tumbled over his manuscripts, until at length he came upon his
first-rate old sermon on "Human Nature." He had read a great deal of
hard theology, and had at last reached that curious state which is so
common in good ministers,--that, namely, in which they contrive to switch
off their logical faculties on the narrow sidetrack of their technical
dogmas, while the great freight-train of their substantial human
qualities keeps in the main highway of common-sense, in which kindly
souls are always found by all who approach them by their human side.

The Doctor read his sermon with a pleasant, paternal interest: it was
well argued from his premises. Here and there he