He cared nothing for the healing art; his speciality was the dead subject. The only true use in living, he seemed to think, was to provide the anatomist with good subjects for his table. The man had not lived in vain who had served Robert Day with his frame. He was an atheist, a dogmatic atheist, interested not merely in denying the God of the Bible, but in proving the impossibility of the existence of any Supreme Being at all. Hence the melancholy of the man. His daughter shared his views, for she worshipped her father, and he had taken care she should learn nothing of religion from her infancy. They took pains to imbue Elsworth with their opinions; not that they vulgarly scoffed at his faith, but as propagandists of “the religion of Man” they declared it their duty to wage war against that of God. The learning of the old man and his daughter tempted our student to many a discussion with them; he thought if his faith would not stand a little argument it was not worth much. An orange tree grows and bears fruit in the open air in the South, but soon sickens and dies in an English garden. It was rash of Elsworth to subject his faith to such a test. He was doing what has proved fatal to many a youthful mind. CHAPTER VI. JACK MURPHY’S PARTY. Wine and youth are fire upon fire.—_Fielding._ Idleness, the cushion upon which the devil chiefly reposes.—_Burton._ Firmly screwed upon the door Doth the lion-knocker frown. To-night its reign of noise is o’er; Courage, boys, we’ll have it down! Long its strength defied Every dodge we tried; But its nuts no more shall bear it, From the hinge to-night we’ll tear it. —_Cruikshank’s Almanack._