For the truth is, you must
have a hundred troubles every day which I never felt in my life; and
it must be a very hard thing to keep body and soul together, and
to get a little pleasure on this side the grave without making
blackguards of yourselves. Therefore I don't pretend to set myself up
as a better or a wiser man than you at all: but I do know a thing or
two which I fancy may be useful to you. You can but try it. So come
up, if you like, any of you, and talk matters over with me as between
gentleman and gentleman. I shall keep your secret, of course; and if
you find I can't cure your complaint, why, you can but go away and try
elsewhere.'"
"And so the doctor's model sermon ends in proposing private
confession!"
"Of course. The thing itself which will do them good, without the red
rag of an official name, which sends them cackling off like frightened
turkeys.--Such private confession as is going on between you and me
now. Here am I confessing to you all my unorthodoxy."
"And I my ignorance," said Frank; "for I really believe you know more
about the matter than I do."
"Not at all. I may be all wrong. But the fault of your cloth seems to
me to be that they apply their medicines without deigning, most of
them, to take the least diagnosis of the case. How could I cure a man
without first examining what was the matter with him?"
"So say the old casuists, of whom I have read enough--some would say
too much; but they do not satisfy me.
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