"And what is the commonest charity but the essence of Christianity?" asked Minnie.
"Fiddlestick!" replied Seymour, irreverently. "Religion is based upon the difference, in an ecclesiastical sense, 'twixt tweedledum and tweedledee."
"Not the true religion of Christ," asserted Minnie, "not my religion."
"Then what is your definition of religion?" asked Charlie, who had been silent hitherto on the subject. "It deserves a voice, you know, since it has 'justified its existence by its success' in the words of father's favourite maxim."
"The religion of Christ does not justify itself by success," corrected Minnie, "since it is in itself the fountain of justice as well as of mercy, it requires no justification, but its adoption justifies all who receive it."
"Well, but tell us what it is, according to your interpretation?"
"According to my interpretation, which is also that of the New Testament," answered Minnie, "Pure religion and undefiled, is to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep one's self unspotted from the world."
"Well, that's simple enough at any rate. Is that your whole confession of Faith?"
"Yes, those are what I consider the duties of religion, but no one who has really felt its power, could ever think of them merely as duties."
"You have shown us beyond dispute that you are capable of acting up to the first proposition. Even I, who know little about it, can see that is the easier of the two, how about the second?"