"It did, undoubtedly. But surely that is no evidence of his extreme tendency to be led astray by crotchets?"
"Quite the reverse: the scheme was not sufficiently absurd for him. Besides, I must tell you, that in pure commercial matters it would be very difficult to overreach or deceive my uncle. He has a clear eye for pounds, shillings, and pence—principal and interest—and can look very well after himself when his purse is directly assailed. His real weakness lies in sentiment."
"Not, I trust, towards the feminine gender? That might be awkward for you in a gentleman of his years!"
"Not precisely—though I would not like to trust him in the hands of a designing female. His besetting weakness turns on the point of the regeneration of mankind. Forty or fifty years ago he would have been a follower of Johanna Southcote. He subscribed liberally to Owen's schemes, and was within an ace of turning out with Thom of Canterbury. Incredible as it may appear, he actually was for a time a regular and accepted Mormonite."
"You don't mean to say so?"
"Fact, I assure you, upon my honour! But for a swindle that Joe Smith tried to perpetrate about the discounting of a bill, Peter Pettigrew might at this moment have been a leading saint in the temple of Nauvoo, or whatever else they call the capital of that polygamous and promiscuous persuasion."
"You amaze me. How any man of common sense—"
"That's just the point. Where common sense ends, Uncle Pettigrew begins. Give him a mere thread of practicability, and he will arrive at a sound conclusion. Envelope him in the mist of theory, and he will walk headlong over a precipice."
"Why, Jack," said I, "you seem to have improved in your figures of speech since you joined the army. That last sentence was worth preservation. But I don't clearly understand you yet. What is his present phase, which seems to stand in the way of your prospects?"
"Can't you guess? What is the most absurd feature of the present time?"