“It is an argument, the tendency of which goes directly to level all the existing distinctions between right and wrong, and to weaken the influence of those sacred truths which have been professed by mankind for so many generations,” continued Fortyfolios.
“Bah!” exclaimed Tourniquet.
“You may profess what opinions you please,” he added; “but the opinions on which multitudes of people rest their expectations of future happiness ought not to be disturbed by the contemplation of such vain and idle speculations as those in which you indulge.”
“Nonsense, don’t you see,” said the other.
“I tell you, Dr. Tourniquet, it is rank atheism,” exclaimed the professor, rather warmly.
“I tell you, Professor Fortyfolios, you’re a goose,” replied his antagonist.
“As usual, gentlemen, your argument ends in a dispute,” observed Oriel Porphyry. “But you must excuse me for the present. I am really tired out, and have been yawning in a manner that would have silenced any disputants less eager than yourselves. I shall go to my berth, which example I should advise you to follow; and let us hope that the terrible monsoon will allow us some repose.”
The philosophers took the advice that was offered; and in less than half an hour all three were fast asleep in their hammocks.