But the colonel heeded not the outstretched arm of Mr. Basher, and the rose for which he bled, I am sorry to say, dropped from Mr. Basher's hand into a dish of tomatoes. What could the colonel do? Nothing, I think, but what he did—rise with a lofty and majestic air, look a black thunder-cloud of wrath at Mr. John Basher, say to Papa Criggles, with his handkerchief to his mouth, "Under the circumstances," and then get out of the house, and into a towering passion as he drove home. Next day he took the first train for Washington.
It was in the conservatory again, at about 2.20 A.M., that Mr. John Basher tried if the timid and trusting Rosina Criggles could refuse him. She couldn't, as I have already told you. He got as far as "Will you have—" and she added, "Me for your own," and there was an end of it.
"So the sacrifice of Mr. Basher did not consist in popping the question?"
"By no means. Who ever said it did?"
A Few Thoughts About Protestants.
Faith, though a gift of God, depends for its actuality upon the acceptance of it by men, and its continuance upon their careful and constant adherence to it. We are at liberty to receive the Christian faith or to reject it in the first instance when it is proposed to us; and we are equally at liberty to misuse it, to change it, to garble it, and to make it so far of no effect as to retain nothing of true Christian religion but the name.
Heresy is possible, all must allow, since it is possible to deny a part of the whole truth; and, knowing to what extremes men will permit their pride and passions to carry them, the fact of heresies frequently occurring does not surprise us. The most lamentable fact about heresy is, that it does not ordinarily die with the first preachers of it; but succeeding generations rise up to an inheritance of falsehood, deprived of the entire truth, fancying themselves joined, to the body of Christ's church, nourishing a dead branch long separated from the tree of life, and prevented, as they too often are, by the pride of intellect and the natural stubbornness of the will, from recognizing their errors and amending the sins of their forefathers by a hearty return to the truth that has been abandoned.
Such is the condition—unhappy condition, as it appears to us—of American Protestant Christians. Deprived of one or another part of the truth by the heresy of the several founders of their various religions, they are called no longer the faithful people, no longer the well-beloved children of holy church, and they share not in those unspeakable mercies of predilection which make religion for a Catholic an unfailing treasure of comfort, and his church a paradise of joy.