observe in me "a certain scrupulous wavering, and a subtilty of
conscience, which, however Christian-like, was little in accordance
with true philosophy." "I shall continue to esteem you," he added,
"though we should not agree upon that point; for I am bound, in all
sincerity, to inform you, that I have no religion, that I abhor all
creeds, and that I assume from a feeling of modesty the name of
Julian, from the circumstance of that good emperor having been so
decided an enemy of the Christians, though, in fact, I go much
further than he ever did. The sceptred Julian believed in God, and
had his own little superstitions. I have none; I believe not in a
God, but refer all virtue to the love of truth, and the hatred of
such as do not please me." There was no reasoning in what he said.
He inveighed bitterly against Christianity, made an idol of worldly
honour and virtue; and in a half serious and jocular vein took on
himself to pronounce the Emperor Julian's eulogium for his apostasy,
and his philanthropic efforts to eradicate all traces of the gospel
from the face of the earth.

Apprehending that he had thus given too severe a shock to my
opinions, he then asked my pardon, attempting to excuse himself upon
the ground of PERFECT SINCERITY. Reiterating his extreme wish to
enter into more friendly relations with me, he then bade me
farewell.

In a postscript he added:- "I have no sort of scruples, except a
fear of not having made myself sufficiently understood. I ought not
to conceal that to me the Christian language which you employ,
appears a mere mask to conceal your real opinions. I wish it may be
so; and in this case, throw off your cloak, as I have set you an
example."