See, the soul is
this smoke, that evanishes so quickly; the body this meerschaum that I have
in my fingers, and will smoke again, please God."
"But it is the smoke, not the pipe, that gives you pleasure, and is the
important consideration, Mac."
"Confound analogies, and pert Freshmen!" growled my chum, puffing
vigorously. "Nevertheless, it is a noble and right royal thing, this
body,--a thing to be cared for and cultivated for its own sake, apart from
the fact of its being God's chosen sanctuary for what He lends us to see
Him by. And you are neglecting it, both in theory and practice, Clarian; so
you must give up these infernal Metaphysics. If you _will_ bother about
speculative matters, let Bacon teach you the correctives of error, and
Locke how to govern and rein in the understanding. But you'd better learn
first what men say about men. It may not make you happier, but it will make
you wiser, and wisdom ranks high in heaven: Gabriel, Raphael,
Michael,--'tis the second person in that archangelic trinity. Did you ever
read Shakspeare? No, of course not; and yet I'll wager you have been
hankering after the Bhagavat Ghita, and trying to get a copy of the
illustrious Trismegistan Gimander! Don't blush,--you're not the first young
man who has made an a--ahem--made a mistake. Fie! Learn men, Clarian, and
then you will come to know man,--the surest way, I take it, of knowing the
Multitudinous God. So read you Shakspeare, and AEschylus, save the
'Prometheus,'--_that_ was begotten of Bactrian lore upon the mysteries of
Karnac, and does not touch man nearly, spite of all its grandeur.
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