this crowning but barren flower of perfection, should
nevertheless continue to increase and multiply upon earth, have you not
victoriously exclaimed, 'Presumptuous mortal! how canst thou presume
to limit the resources of the Almighty? Would it not be easy for Him to
continue some other mode, unexposed to trouble and sin and passion, as
in the nuptials of the vegetable world, by which the generations will
be renewed? Can we suppose that the angels--the immortal companies
of heaven--are not hourly increasing in number, and extending their
population throughout infinity? and yet in heaven there is no marrying
nor giving in marriage.' All this, clothed by you in words which my
memory only serves me to quote imperfectly,--all this I unhesitatingly
concede."

Mr. Roach rose and brought another bottle of the Chateau Margeaux from
his cellaret, filled Kenelm's glass, reseated himself, and took the
other knee into his lap to caress.

"But," resumed Kenelm, "my doubt is this."

"Ah!" cried Mr. Roach, "let us hear the doubt."

"In the first place, is celibacy essential to the highest state of
spiritual perfection; and, in the second place, if it were, are mortals,
as at present constituted, capable of that culmination?"

"Very well put," said Mr. Roach, and he tossed off his glass with more
cheerful aspect than he had hitherto exhibited.

"You see," said Kenelm, "we are compelled in this, as in other questions
of philosophy, to resort to the inductive process, and draw our theories
from the facts within our cognizance. Now looking round the world, is it
the fact that old maids and old bachelors are so much more spiritually
advanced than married folks? Do they pass their time, like an Indian
dervish, in serene contemplation of divine excellence and beatitude?
Are they not quite as worldly in their own way as persons who have been
married as often as the Wife of Bath, and, generally speaking, more
selfish, more frivolous, and more spiteful? I am sure I don't wish to
speak uncharitably against old maids and old bachelors. I have three
aunts who are old maids, and fine specimens of the genus; but I am sure
they would all three have been more agreeable companions, and quite as
spiritually gifted, if they had been happily married, and were caressing
their children, instead of lapdogs. So, too, I have an old bachelor
cousin, Chillingly Mivers, whom you know. As clever as a man can be.
But, Lord bless you! as to being wrapped in spi