Author of his being as he now fancied he had to complain of Him.
To the butterfly (whose disposition was not hard for a man who knew the world to find out) he did nothing more than show him how very little wit there was in a repetition of what had been said a hundred times before; and, for his encouragement to alter his way of thinking (or rather of talking), assured him that he might learn much more real wit on the other side of the question, and repeat it with less danger of having the theft found out.
Every word this gentleman spoke, and his manner of speaking, convinced Cynthia he was not endeavouring to show his own parts, but acting from the true Christian principle of desiring to do good. She was perfectly silent the whole time he was speaking; but, when he had concluded, could not forbear rallying the butterfly on his strong desire of having wit; and told him she knew several subjects he could talk on so much better than religion, that she would advise him to leave that entirely off, and take up with those he was much fitter for, such as gallantry—gaming—dressing—etc. This drew loud laughter from both the atheist and butterfly. The latter replied, "Ay! ay! I warrant you, I never knew an instance where the parsons did not get the women on their side!" with several coarse jests not worth repeating. And now they had nothing to do, but to roar and make a noise; resolving, if they could not confute their adversaries, to persecute them by putting their ears on the rack; in hopes, by that means, for the sake of quietness, to extort a confession from them of whatever they pleased. In this confusion of noise and nonsense Cynthia and the clergyman were obliged to continue, till they arrived at the inn in the evening; when, on pretence of being weary and indisposed,
