that the Christian and every other religion says (absurdly, if you will, but certainly with a deeper knowledge of human nature than you), that, as every little present has its little future for which we live, so the whole present of this life has its great future, which must, all the way through, be made the supreme object of forethought and solicitude; just as we should despise any man who, for a moment’s gratification to-day, perilled the happiness of the whole of to-morrow.  If Christians are inconsistent in this respect, that is their affair; but I am sure their theory is more in accordance with the constitution of human nature than yours.”  He might have added, that there is nothing in the New Testament which forbids to Christians any of the innocent pleasures of this life:  the Christian may lawfully appropriate them.  His system does not constrain him to hermit-like austerity or Puritanic grimace.  He may enjoy them, just as a wise man, who will not sacrifice any of the interests of next year for a transient gratification of the passing hour, does not deny himself any legitimate pleasure which is not inconsistent with the more momentous interest.  The pilgrim drinks and rests at the fountain though he does not dream of setting up his tent there.

“Nay,” said Fellowes, “but think again of the ‘gigantic lie’ of making the future world the supreme object, and yet living wholly for this.”

“If that be the case,” said I, joining in their talk, “there is no doubt a ‘gigantic lie’ somewhere; but the question is, Who tells it?  It does not follow that it is Christianity.  You may see every day men nay, losing, some important advantages by loitering away the very hour which is to secure them,—­in reading a novel, enjoying a social hour, lying in bed, and what not.  You do not conclude that the man’s estimate of the future—­his philosophy of that—­is any the more questionable for this folly?  The ruthless future comes and makes his heart ache; and so may it be with Christianity for aught any such considerations imply.  Your argument only proves that, if Christianity be true, man is an inconsistent fool; and, in my judgment, that was proved long before Christianity was born or thought of.”

“Your theology,” cried Harrington, “fairly carried out, would lead most men to the ‘Epicurean sty’ which, sceptic as I am, I loathe the thought of; it deserves the rebuke which Johnson gave the man who pleaded for a ‘natural and savage condition,’ as he called it.  ‘Sir,’ said the Doctor, ’it is a brutal doctrine; a bull might as well say, I have this grass and this cow,—­and what can a creature want more?’ No, I am sure that the Christian or any other 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.”