“Well, Mark,” he said, as soon as he had got him on to the lawn, “I cannot understand it! how a young man of your strength of character, of your firmness—nay, obstinacy; stubbornness—should permit yourself to fall a prey to these adventurers.” “I really do not see how I am their prey, Uncle Billy, or why they should be adventurers.” “Oh, Mark, you are—I mean, dear Mark, you want experience of the world; and no amount of moral or intellectual excellence will stand you in stead for that. Nay, indeed, goodness will only make you the easier victim, and talent the more useful tool to these speculators.” “Uncle, you wrong them! By the honour of my soul, you do! You have never seen or heard but one side of the question, and therefore you are bitterly prejudiced.” “Prejudiced! _Me_ prejudiced! when everybody knows that I am the most impartial person in the world! But ‘moderation has its martyrs also.’” “You certainly are prejudiced in this matter; yet how shall I set you right? And why should I be surprised? Once, there was never such a scoffer as I was.” “Yes, and _that’s_ just what raises the hair of my head with wonder! Your good-humoured satire and gay indulgence used to please me so much more than your uncle’s haughty, scornful, persecuting resentment of these people’s affronts. You used to laugh, and say to your uncles, ‘Your anger is inadequate to the offence; it is ungenerous. These objects of your displeasure are very harmless enthusiasts.’ _And now!_ Ah, Mark, I call to mind the poet’s line— ‘First endure, then pity, then embrace.’ You began by enduring, and you end by embracing their doctrines. Ah, Mark! Mark! Mark! how came it so?” “Uncle, did you never hear of a gay man or woman of the world—well enough in their way—not sinners above all sinners, but with a certain light, satirical way of treating serious subjects, and a certain good-humoured contempt for those that entertained them—did you never hear an instance of such a man or woman going into a religious meeting to scoff, _but returning home to pray_? Well, very much akin to that was my experience. I went to the convention in New York, just to fulfil a promise made to my friend Lauderdale, and next to have a laugh at them! At the first meeting—well; I am not going to give you a report of it—sufficient is it to tell you that the subject was presented to my mind in a new and startling aspect. I laughed, or rather _tried_ to laugh, it off.” “I wish to goodness you had taken it more earnestly than to begin with laughing, to end with imitating.”