The minister had never read a word of Shelley, but had a very
decided opinion of him. He gave a loud rude whistle.
"So! that's where you go for your theology! I was puzzled to
understand you, but now all is plain! Young man, you are on the
brink of perdition. That book will poison your very vitals!"
"Indeed, sir, it will never go deep enough for that! But it came
near touching them as I sat eating my bread and cheese."
"He's an infidel!" said the minister fiercely.
"A kind of one," returned Donal, "but not of the worst sort. It's
the people who call themselves believers that drive the like of poor
Shelley to the mouth of the pit."
"He hated the truth," said the minister.
"He was always seeking after it," said Donal, "though to be sure he
didn't get to the end of the search. Just listen to this, sir, and
say whether it be very far from Christian."
Donal opened his little volume, and sought his passage. The
minister but for curiosity and the dread of seeming absurd would
have stopped his ears and refused to listen. He was a man of not
merely dry or stale, but of deadly doctrines. He would have a man
love Christ for protecting him from God, not for leading him to God
in whom alone is bliss, out of whom all is darkness and misery. He
had not a glimmer of the truth that eternal life is to know God. He
imagined justice and love dwelling in eternal opposition in the
bosom of eternal unity.
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