with a man once, a clergyman; in the course of our business we had a quarrel, because I urged him to do his duty properly, and he grossly insulted me by accusing me of falsehood. I called a meeting of those interested, at which he would not appear, and shortly afterwards received a ruffianly letter from him, demanding an instant apology, one that his solicitors would approve of, and to be published at my expense in as many newspapers as he chose to name. I did not reply, and heard nothing more of the matter. If I had sent a humble apology, he would have ruined me by advertising it.'
'You can make peace, my dear friend, and all will be well: you are powerful here. Think of what you are doing, promoting bloodshed and murder, to say nothing of malice, hatred and revenge.'
'Talk no more on that subject, Ubertus; speak of something that will change our terrible thoughts of approaching bloodshed, of something that may be efficacious in washing away the indelible impress of a demon's blood. To shed man's blood is nothing, but it requires a villain of the first water to butcher a demon—and is it possible I can be driving such a villain in my carriage? But cheer up! spin me something, while we spin along, about the metaphysical and moral philosophy of your world: I like that subject. Keep up your heart—the man who never has an enemy is begotten of milk and born of water.'
'It is a dry subject, sir, that philosophy: and an unsatisfactory one, too. It is, properly but ungrammatically speaking, two distinct subjects. The former is the science of the soul, mind, and intelligence; the latter is that of our conduct in this world, and our duties to each other. The first is, if we regard it as we ought, an attribute of the Supreme Being, with which we have nothing at all to do over and above our duty of obedience. Men have un-
