paper;" and he gave me some. He retired, and the moment I cast my
eye on the paper, I felt tempted to sit down and write to Julian a
sharp lecture on his intolerable turpitude and presumption, and so
take leave of him. But again, I repented of my own violence, and
uncharitableness, and finally resolved to write another letter in a
better spirit as I had done before.

I did so, and despatched it without delay. The next morning I
received a few lines, simply expressive of the writer's thanks; but
without a single jest, or the least invitation to continue the
correspondence. Such a billet displeased me; nevertheless I
determined to persevere. Six long letters were the result, for each
of which I received a few laconic lines of thanks, with some
declamation against his enemies, followed by a joke on the abuse he
had heaped upon them, asserting that it was extremely natural the
strong should oppress the weak, and regretting that he was not in
the list of the former. He then related some of his love affairs,
and observed that they exercised no little sway over his disturbed
imagination.

In reply to my last on the subject of Christianity, he said he had
prepared a long letter; for which I looked out in vain, though he
wrote to me every day on other topics--chiefly a tissue of obscenity
and folly.

I reminded him of his promise that he would answer all my arguments,
and recommended him to weigh well the reasonings with which I had
supplied him before he attempted to write. He replied to this
somewhat in a rage, assuming the airs of a philosopher, a man of
firmness, a man who stood in no want of brains to distinguish "a