"Offends me? my dear friend, and half-parishoner (for I notice a bad
habit you have got into, of late, of attending church only in the
morning--pray reform it), you use a very harsh term. There is nothing
in the book that offends me; although," he added, cautiously, "I
do not mean to say that I sanction entirely either your religious,
philosophical, or political speculations. I am no flatterer, and claim
the privilege of a friend to speak my mind."

"My dear Increase," said I, pressing his hand, "I love you all the
more for your sincerity; but why do you call them my speculations? I
have expressed no opinions. They are the opinions of the characters,
and not mine. I wish you and all the world distinctly to understand
that."

"And yet the world will hold you to account for them. If a man fires
a gun into a crowd, is he not responsible for any mischief that may be
the consequence?"

"I do not expect to make so loud a report," said I, smiling; "but I
protest against your doctrine. Why, according to that, an author is
accountable for all the opinions of his dramatis personæ, however
absurd and contradictory they may be."

"I do not go so far as that. I hold that the author is only
responsible for the effect produced: if that effect be favorable to
virtue, he deserves praise; if the contrary, censure."

"I admit the justice of the view you take, with that limitation; and I
trust it is with a sense of such accountability I have written," said
I. "May I, then, flatter myself with the hope that you will grant me