"Well, sir," continued Atheist, "being, in a sense, neighbours,
Christian in his youth would often confide in my friend; though,
assuredly, Sceptic never sought his confidences. And it seemeth he
began to be perturbed and troubled over the discovery that it is
impossible--at least in this plain world--to eat your cake, yet have
it. And by some ill chance he happened at this time on a mouldy old
folio in my friend's house that had been the property of his maternal
grandmother--the subtlest old tome you ever set eyes on, though
somewhat too dark and extravagant and heady for a sober man of the
world like me. 'Twas called the Bible, sir--a collection of legends
and fables of all times, tongues, and countries threaded together,
mighty ingeniously I grant, and in as plausible a style as any I
know, if a little lax and flowery in parts.
"Well, Christian borroweth the book of my friend--never to return it.
And being feeble and credulous, partly by reason of his simple wits,
and partly by reason of the sad condition a froward youth had reduced
him to, he accepts the whole book--from Apple to Vials--for truth.
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