"Ah, you laugh!" he exclaimed,—"you laugh! That is wrong!—that is a mistake!... But you do not believe: you do not know what it is,—the true religion,—the real Christianity!"
Earnestly I made answer:—
"Pardon me! I do believe every word of what you have told me. If I laughed unthinkingly, it was only because I could not help wondering" ...
"At what?" he questioned gravely.
"At the marvelous instinct of that negro."
"Ah, yes!" he returned approvingly. "Yes, the cunning of the animal it was,—the instinct of the brute!... She was the only person in the world who could have saved him."
"And he knew it," I ventured to add.
"No—no—no!" my friend emphatically dissented,—"he never could have known it! He only felt it!... Find me an instinct like that, and I will show you a brain incapable of any knowledge, any thinking, any understanding: not the mind of a man, but the brain of a beast!"