e as to compel celibacy, and that is what you are really
driving at. You are telling me that any one is a black sheep who does
not marry."

"Not a very practical difficulty to you at this moment," said Carlton;
"no one is asking you to go about on Coelebs' mission just now, with
Aristotle in hand and the class-list in view."

"Well, excuse me," said Charles, "if I have said anything very foolish;
you don't suppose I argue on such subjects with others."

CHAPTER V.

They had by this time strolled as far as Carlton's lodgings, where the
books happened to be on which Charles was at that time more immediately
employed; and they took two or three turns under some fine beeches which
stood in front of the house before entering it.

"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't understand, what
are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is simply an unnatural
state."

"Don't let us talk more, my dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I shall go
on making a fool of myself. Let well alone, or bad alone, pray do."

It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him
inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion.
Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very
secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked him.

"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view," said he. "It
was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply;' therefore celibacy
is unnatural."

"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling.

"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton. "We are taught by
Butler that there is an analogy between nature and grace; else you might
parallel paganism to nature, and where paganism is contrary to nature,
say that it is supernatural. The Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural;
why not supernatural?"

"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them, are on my
side here," said Charles--"Jeremy Taylor, I believe."

"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural," said Carlton; "I
want to get at what _you_ think, you know."

"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity, being the perfection
of nature, is both like it and unlike it;--like it, where it is the same
or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is as much and more. I mean by
supernatural the perfection of nature."

"Give me an instance," said Carlton.

"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it has been
said of old time,--b