Are those your drawings,
dear?'
'Yes, very bad, I'm afraid; but there are a few, _better_, I think in the
portfolio in the cabinet in the hall.'
'They are by _no_ means bad, my dear; and you play, of course?'
'Yes--that is, a little--pretty well, I hope.'
'I dare say. I must hear you by-and-by. And how does your papa amuse you?
You look bewildered, dear. Well, I dare say, amusement is not a frequent
word in this house. But you must not turn into a nun, or worse, into a
puritan. What is he? A Fifth-Monarchy-man, or something--I forget; tell me
the name, my dear.'
'Papa is a Swedenborgian, I believe.'
'Yes, yes--I forgot the horrid name--a Swedenborgian, that is it. I don't
know exactly what they think, but everyone knows they are a sort of pagans,
my dear. He's not making one of _you_, dear--is he?'
'I go to church every Sunday.'
'Well, that's a mercy; Swedenborgian is such an ugly name, and besides,
they are all likely to be damned, my dear, and that's a serious
consideration. I really wish poor Austin had hit on something else; I'd
much rather have no religion, and enjoy life while I'm in it, than choose
one to worry me here and bedevil me hereafter.
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