"When Mr. O'Brian left us, his place was filled up by an elderly man, the most profane person I ever travelled with. I watched the changing countenance of Mr. Robertson, the rapid contraction and distention of his brow, his intent and eager look of indignation. Availing himself of a short pause, he said, with a very stern look, and in an authoritative tone, 'If, Sir, you have no reverence for God, I hope you will pay some respect to a lady, and leave off such profane, disgusting utterances.'
"'I suppose, Sir, you are a believer in the Bible?'
"'I am, Sir.'
"'I am not. I don't believe that God takes any notice of what we say or do.'
"'It is very possible, Sir, you may feel the full force of your belief at some future period of your history.'
"'You speak ambiguously; will you explain your meaning?'
"'Why, Sir, it is possible you may feel, when dying, what the generality of your profane fraternity feel—intense remorse and some awful forebodings—and may, as they have often done, cry aloud for mercy; and then you may be made to feel that God takes no notice of what you say or do.'
"'I don't believe in a futurity; I no more expect to live after death comes, than I expect my dead dog to live again, or that a rotten cabbage-stalk will spring up into vegetable life again.'
"'Well, Sir, if you choose to die like a dog, or rot like a cabbage stump, you will permit me to say that I don't admire your taste.'