religionist--inconsistent though he is--appeals in this point
deeper analogies of our nature than you."

"But the fact is," said Fellowes, "that the Christian depreciates
the innocent pleasures of this life."

And my uncle would say it is his own fault then."

"Nay, but hear me. I conceive that nothing could be more natural,
as several of our writers have remarked, than the injunctions of
the Apostles to the primitive Christians to despise the world, and
so forth, under the impression of that great mistake they had
fallen into, that the world was about to tumble to pieces, and----"

"I am not sure," said Harrington, who seemed resolved to evince a
scepticism provoking enough, "that they did make the mistake, on
your principles. For I know not, nor you either, whether the
expressions on which you found the supposition be not amongst
the voluminous additions with which you are pleased to suppose
their simple and genuine 'utterances' have been corrupted. But,
leaving you to discuss that point, if you like, with my uncle here,
I must deny that the mistake, supposing it one, makes any thing
in relation to our present discussion. You say that the Apostles
did well and naturally to inculcate a light grasp on the world,
on the supposition that it was about to pass away; and therefore,
I suppose, you (under a similar impression) would do the same; if
so, ought you not still to do it? for can it make any conceivable
difference to the wisdom or the folly of such exhortations, whether
the world passes away from us, or we pass away from the world?--
whether it 'tumbles to pieces,' as you express it, or (which is too