think--gainsay my authorities if you have the courage--Longinus and the
Bishop of Antioch. I see that you are disturbed. No wonder. Longinus,
though a philosopher, is a man of the world, who sees through its ways as
clearly as he does through the mysticism of Plato, and that asks for good
eyes; and for the bishop--there is not so finished a gentleman in all the
East. His appointments are not less exquisite than those of the highest
noble either of Antioch or Palmyra. If an umpire in any question of
manners were to be chosen, it would be he.'

'As for the Greek,' I rejoined, 'I am predisposed to admit his superior
claims. I will surrender to him with alacrity my doubts both in manners
and philosophy. For I hold there is a philosophy in manners, nay, even in
clothes, and that the highest bred intellect will on that very account
best perceive the nice distinctions and relations, in the exact
perception and observance of which the highest manners consist. Such an
one may offend against the last device in costume--and the last
refinement in the recondite art of a bow--but he will eternally excel in
all that we mean by breeding. Your bishop I know nothing of, but your
account of him strikes me not very agreeably. These Christian bishops,
methinks, are taking upon themselves too much. And besides, if what I
gathered of the theory of their religion from a passenger on board the
Mediterranean trader, be correct, they depart greatly from the severity
of their principles, when they so addict themselves to the practices of
courts and of the rich. I received from this Christian a beautiful idea
of his faith, and only lamented that our companionship was broken off
before I had had time fully to comprehend all he had to say. The
character of this man, and his very countenance, seemed as arguments to
support the strict opinions which he advanced. This bishop, I think, can
scarcely do his faith the same service.'