‘We mus’n’t make our discussions too dry, Doctor,’ he said; ‘what will you take?’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the Doctor, with a wave of his hand,—‘nothing this morning.’
And, depositing his cocked hat in a chair, he settled himself into one of the leathern easy chairs, and, dropping his hands upon his knees, looked fixedly before him, like a man who is studying how to enter upon an inwardly absorbing subject.
‘Well, Doctor,’ said Simeon, seating himself opposite, sipping comfortably at a glass of rum-and-water, ‘our views appear to be making a noise in the world. Everything is preparing for your volumes; and when they appear, the battle of New Divinity, I think, may fairly be considered as won.’
Let us consider, that, though a woman may forget her firstborn, yet a man cannot forget his own system of theology,—because, therein, if he be a true man, is the very elixir and essence of all that is valuable and hopeful to the universe; and considering this, let us appreciate the settled purpose of our friend, whom even this tempting bait did not swerve from the end which he had in view.
‘Mr. Brown,’ he said, ‘all our theology is as a drop in the ocean of God’s majesty, to whose glory we must be ready to make any and every sacrifice.’
‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Brown, not exactly comprehending the turn the Doctor’s thoughts were taking.
‘And the glory of God consisteth in the happiness of all his rational universe, each in his proportion, according to his separate amount of being; so that, when we devote ourselves to God’s glory, it is the same as saying that we devote ourselves to the highest happiness of his created universe.’
‘That’s clear, sir,’ said Simeon, rubbing his hands, and taking out his watch to see the time.
The Doctor hitherto had spoken in a laborious manner, like a man who is slowly lifting a heavy bucket of thought out of an internal well.