It is only incidentally, however, that the Professor at the Breakfast-Table handles matters which are the subjects of religious controversy. The reader who is sensitive about having his fixed beliefs dealt with as if they were open to question had better skip the pages which look as if they would disturb his complacency. “Faith” is the most precious of possessions, and it dislikes being meddled with. It means, of course, self-trust,--that is, a belief in the value of our own opinion of a doctrine, of a church, of a religion, of a Being, a belief quite independent of any evidence that we can bring to convince a jury of our fellow beings. Its roots are thus inextricably entangled with those of self-love and bleed as mandrakes were said to, when pulled up as weeds. Some persons may even at this late day take offence at a few opinions expressed in the following pages, but most of these passages will be read without loss of temper by those who disagree with them, and by-and-by they may be found too timid and conservative for intelligent readers, if they are still read by any. BEVERLY FARM, MASS., June 18, 1891. O. W. H. THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. What he said, what he heard, and what he saw. I I intended to have signalized my first appearance by a certain large statement, which I flatter myself is the nearest approach to a universal formula, of life yet promulgated at this breakfast-table. It would have had a grand effect. For this purpose I fixed my eyes on a certain divinity-student, with the intention of exchanging a few phrases, and then forcing my court-card, namely, The great end of being.--I will thank you for the sugar,--I said.--Man is a dependent creature. It is a small favor to ask,--said the divinity-student,--and passed the sugar to me. --Life is a great bundle of little things,--I said. The divinity-student smiled, as if that were the concluding epigram of the sugar question. You smile,--I said.--Perhaps life seems to you a little bundle of great things? The divinity-student started a laugh, but suddenly reined it back with a pull, as one throws a horse on his haunches.--Life is a great bundle of great things,--he said. (NOW, THEN!) The great end of being, after all, is.... Hold on!--said my neighbor, a young fellow whose name seems to be John, and nothing else,--for that is what they all call him,--hold on! the Sculpin is go'n' to say somethin'.