Letters of Peregrine PickleUpton, George P. (George Putnam)
General
Letters of Peregrine Pickle
Upton, George P. (George Putnam)
Chicago (Ill.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Blobbs' face again wore an impatient look, as he replied: "Belief
with me, sir, has been instinctive. It never had any prescribed form,
and never needed defining by any ritual. I have never troubled myself
much about any creed, as I have never seen any record of creeds where
I may soon go. I do not expect, if I had a creed, that it would be
anything but an impediment to me in crossing the river. If I got
safely over with it, I am confident, sir, that St. Peter would make
me leave it outside the gate, as something for which they had no use
inside."
"Then, you have believed in no doctrine, and belonged to no church,
my dear friend?" said Primrose.
"You mistake me, sir," said Blobbs, rather impatiently. "I have
always believed in charity, which is greater than faith or hope,
and in the sublime words which Christ, and Confucius before Christ,
uttered: 'Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you.'
I have always belonged to the great church of humanity, which, I
think, sir, in ages to come, will be the church of mankind----"
"When the millenium comes, and man is perfect?" interposed Primrose.
"No, sir!" replied Blobbs, emphatically. "I look for no millenium
of perfection. Man can never fully develop, if this world shall
stand for millions of ages yet. To assume that, would be to deny the
principle of infinity which is in him. The perfect development can
never be attained except in eternity. We must be freed from this
frail envelope of the body before the soul can rise, untrammelled."
"Upon what, then, if you have no doctrine, or creed, or church, do
you depend for your salvation?" said Primrose.
"Upon the love of our common Father," replied Blobbs. "He has
carried me, sir, in the hollow of His hand since childhood, and has
never done me harm. I am not afraid now, sir, to trust myself to
Him, confident that He knows better than I what is best for me, and
that He will do what is best. I think that He will solve all these
mysteries, so that what is dark to my feeble comprehension will
become quite light. I am willing, sir, to trust myself to Him, and,
sir, if you can throw any light upon the place to which I am going, I
shall be very grateful to receive it. As to the manner of going, I am
quite willing to leave that to Him who knows more than I."
Primrose, after a few generalities, took his leave, satisfied that
at least he had done his duty, but Old Blobbs turned his face to the
wall with a feeble smile and a shake of the head.
I think Blobbs was fully convinced, as well as the rest of us, that
he should not live long, for on that same day he handed me his diary,
which he desired me to keep. He has since that time expressed his
willingness to have me use what I please of it. On looking it over, I
found some thoughts which perhaps may interest you.
In one place he says:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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