"How can that be a root of barbarism, which the utmost degree of intelligence and cultivation has no power to do away, nor even to lessen, however it may afford motive to control? Men may often put a brave face upon it, and show none of their thoughts to the world; but I think, no one, capable of reflection, has not at times felt the influence of that dread."
"Men have often sought death, of purpose and choice," said Mr.
Stackpole, drily, and rubbing his chin.
"Not from the absence of this feeling, but from the greater momentary pressure of some other."
"Of course," said Mr. Stackpole, rubbing his chin still, "there is a natural love of life the world could not get on if there was not."
"If the love of life is natural, the fear of death must be so, by the same reason."
"Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is natural it is part of the constitution of our nature."
"Yes," said Mr. Stackpole, settling himself again in his chair, with his hands in his pockets "it is not unnatural, I suppose but then that is the first view of the subject it is the business of reason to correct many impressions and prejudices that are, as we say, natural."
"And there was where my clergyman of to-day failed utterly," said Mrs. Evelyn "he aimed at strengthening that feeling, and driving it down as hard as he could into everybody's mind not a single lisp of anything to do it away, or lessen the gloom with which we are, naturally, as you say, disposed to invest the subject."
"I dare say he has held it up as a bugbear till it has become one to himself," said Mr. Stackpole.
"Is it nothing more than the mere natural dread of dissolution?" said Mr. Carleton.