"Leave that. Keep on about his character," said Humphrey. "There's nought so interesting to a man like me as burrowing into human nature and trying the works. Now, in your Uncle Nathan you see one that has the cleverness to make nearly every human being like him and trust him. But how does he get his hold on the heart? Is it by shutting his eyes to what people really are, like I shut my ears to Jack Head's arguments against the Bible; or is it by sheer, stupid, obstinate goodness, that can't see the weakness and folly and wickedness and craft of human beings?" "He puts a large trust in his fellow-creatures," answered Rupert. "He believes everybody is good till he's proved 'em bad." Humphrey nodded. "True enough, and I'll tell you what that means in Nathan. The real secret of sympathy in this world is to be a sinner yourself. There's no end to the toleration and forgiveness and large-mindedness of people, if they know in their own hearts that they be just as bad. A wise man hedges, and never will be shocked at anything--why? Because he says, 'I may be found out too, some day.'" He broke off and his nephew spoke. "I know you're just as kind, really. By the same token I've come begging to-day. A poor Cornwood chap has had a bad accident. Market merry he was and got throwed off his pony. He's in hospital with both legs broke and may not recover, and his wife and four children----" "What about his club?" "He wasn't a member of a club." "What's his name?" "Coombes." "Drunk too? And you ask me to take my money and help that sort of man? But I won't." "Perhaps, in strict justice, he don't deserve it; but----" "Did you ask your Uncle Nathan for him?" "Yes. It shows the difference between you, I suppose." "He gave?" "He gave me ten shillings. There's a nice point to argify about. Which of you was right, Uncle Humphrey--you or Uncle Nat? You can't both be right." "We can both be right and both be wrong," answered the old man. "Uncle Nat was preaching at the chapel a bit ago, afore he had his illness; and me and Milly went to hear him." "He preaches, does he?" "Now and again--to work off his energy, he says. But never no more will he. His voice won't stand it, he says. He chose for his text a question, and he said 'twas a simple and easy thing, afore we took any step in life, to ax ourselves and say, what would the Lord do?" "Simple enough to ask--not so simple to answer." "He seemed to think 'twas as simple to answer as to ask." "His brain isn't built to see the difficulties. Jack Head laughs at all these here Tory Christians. He says that a man can no more be a Tory and a Christian than he can walk on water. He says, flat out, that Christ was wrong here and there--right down wrong. Mind, I don't say so; but Head will argue for it very strong if you'll let him." "Uncle Nat wouldn't hear of that."