you that no solid proof has ever been advanced of the existence of
ideas: they are a mere fiction and hypothesis. Nay, sir, 'hence
arises that scepticism which disgraces our philosophy of the mind.'
Ideas!--Findlater, you are a sceptic and an idealist."

"I?" cried the affrighted baronet; "upon my honour I am no such thing.
Everybody knows that I am a Christian, and--"

"Ah!" interrupted Callythorpe, with a solemn look, "everybody knows
that you are not one of those horrid persons,--those atrocious deists
and atheists and sceptics, from whom the Church and freedom of old
England have suffered such danger. I am a true Briton of the good old
school; and I confess, Mr. Trollolop, that I do not like to hear any
opinions but the right ones."

"Right ones being only those which Mr. Callythorpe professes," said
Clarence.

"Exactly so!" rejoined Mr. Callythorpe.

"The human mind," commenced Mr. Trollolop, stirring the fire; when
Clarence, who began to be somewhat tired of this conversation, rose.
"You will excuse me," said he, "but I am particularly engaged, and it
is time to dress. Harrison will get you tea or whatever else you are
inclined for."

"The human mind," renewed Trollolop, not heeding the interruption; and
Clarence forthwith left the room.