attempts to convert me. I intend to let him have full opportunity."

"I hardly know," said I. "Harrington, whether I wish him success or
not. But one thing, surely, all must admire in him: I mean his
candor. What less than this can prompt him, after abandoning with
such extraordinary facility so many creeds and fragments of creeds,
after travelling round the whole circle of theology, to confess with
such charming simplicity the whole history of his mental revolutions,
and expose himself to the charge of unimaginable caprice,--of
theological coquetry? I protest to you that, a priori, I should have
thought it impossible that any man could have made so many and such
violent turns in so short a time without a dislocation of all the
joints of his soul.--without incurring the danger of a 'universal
anchylosis.'"

"One would imagine," said Harrington, with a laugh, "that, in your
estimate, his mind resembles that ingenious toy by which the union
of the various colored rays of light is illustrated: the red, the
yellow, the blue, the green, and so forth, are distinctly painted on
the compartments of a card: but no sooner are they put into a state
of rapid revolution than the whole appears white. Such, it seems,
is the appearance of George Fellowes in that rapid gyration to
which he been subjected: the part-colored rays of his various creeds
are lost sight of and the pure white of his 'candor' is alone
visible!"

"For myself," said I, "I feel in some measure incompetent to
pronounce on his present system. When I saw him for a short time a
few months ago, he told that, though his versatility of faith had
certainly been great, he must remind me (as Mr. Newman had said) that