"Every effort must sometimes fall short of success."
"I'll explain what I mean," said Bertram, attending more to himself than his companion. "What idea of man can be so magnificent as that which represents him with his hands closed, and his eyes turned to that heaven with which he holds communion? But imagine the man so placed, and holding no such communion! You will at once have run down the whole gamut of humanity from St. Paul to Pecksniff."
"But that has nothing to do with belief. It is for the man to take care that he be, if possible, nearer to St. Paul than to Pecksniff."
"No, it has nothing to do with belief; but it is a gauge, the only gauge we have, of what belief a man has. How many of those who were sitting by silently while you preached really believed?"
"All, I hope; all, I trust. I firmly trust that they are all believers; all, including yourself."
"I wonder whether there was one; one believer in all that which you called on us to say that we believed? one, for instance, who believes in the communion of saints? one who believes in the resurrection of the body?"
"And why should they not believe in the communion of saints? What's the difficulty?"
"Very little, certainly; as their belief goes—what they and you call belief. Rumtunshid gara shushabad gerostophat. That is the shibboleth of some of the Caucasian tribes. Do you believe in Rumtunshid?"
"If you will talk gibberish when talking on such a matter, I had rather change the subject."
"Now you are unreasonable, and want to have all the gibberish to yourself. That you should have it all to yourself in your own pulpit we accede to you; but out here, on the heath, surely I may have my turn. You do not believe in Rumtunshid? Then why should farmer Buttercup be called on to believe in the communion of the saints? What does he believe about it? Or why should you make little Flora Buttercup tell such a huge fib as to say, that she believes in the resurrection of the body?"