think we can love and of whom we may be proud. Why should we make ourselves wretched with uncongenial children, whom we never could bring up well, if they made themselves disagreeable to us? It is mere selfishness to love a thing because it is our own; the true philosophy is to love what is loveable."
I felt it was no use protracting this discussion with one from whose very principles I must dissent. So I gave him my hand, thanked him for his visit, and said:—
"You have indeed comforted me in my affliction and reconciled me to my loss of Lily; not by converting me to your views, but by showing me the incompatibility of the customs of your country and the modes of thought of your people with those I have been brought up in and of which I cannot divest myself. I feel I am only outwardly a Colymbian, and I fear I shall never cease to be an Englishman at heart."
He took his leave with an expression of regret that I was unable to see the superiority of the Colymbian customs in regard to marriage and children; and he hoped that a longer residence would enable me to get rid of what he termed my irrational English prejudices, which he asserted with solemn gravity were far from being in accord with the perfect life of the unknown people, or in unison with the wishes of their ruler.
I could not refrain from saying that I had read all the old books and had been unable to discover in them a word on the subject of marriage or parental affection.
On which he shook his head, and said with solemn emphasis:—"My dear young friend, I fear you have
