“It’s such a providential thing, as you call it, to find such a mother in the bargain!  Now I might have discovered a slattern, or a scold, or a woman of bad character; or one that never went to church; or even one that swore and drank; for, begging your pardon, Miss Lucy, just such creatur’s are to be met with; whereas, instead of any of these disagreeable recommendations, I’ve fallen in with an A. No. 1. mother; ay, and such an old lady as the king of England, himself, need not be ashamed to own.[A] I felt a strong desire, Mr. Hardinge, to get down on my knees, and to ask the dear, good old soul, just to say, ’God bless you, my dear son, Moses, Van Duzer, or Oloff, whatever your name may be.’"[2]

[Footnote 2:  In that day, all allusions to royalty were confined to the Majesty of Great Britain; it being no uncommon thing, at the commencement of this century, to hear “The King” toasted at many of the best tables of the country.]

“And if you had, Mr. Marble, you would not have been any the worse for it.  Such feelings do you honour, and no man need be ashamed of desiring to receive a parent’s blessing.”

“I suppose now, my dear sir,” added Marble, innocently, “that is what is called having a religious turn?  I’ve often foreseen, that religion would fetch me up, in the long run; and now that I am altogether relieved from bitterness of heart on the subject of belonging to none, and no one’s belonging to me, my sentiments have undergone a great alteration, and I feel a wish to be at peace with the whole human family—­no, not with the whole; I except that rascally old Van Tassel.”

“You must except no one—­we are told to ’love those that hate us, to bless those that curse us, and to pray for those that despitefully use us.’”

Marble stared at Mr. Hardinge; for, to own the truth, it would have been difficult, in a Christian land, to meet with one of his years who had less religious instruction than himself.  It is quite probable that these familiar mandates had never been heard by him before; but I could see that he was a little struck with the profound morality that pervaded them; a morality to which no human heart appears to be so insensible as not in secret to acknowledge its sublimity.  Still he doubted.

“Where are we told to do this, my dear sir?” demanded Marble, after looking intently at the rector for a moment.

“Where? why, where we get all our divine precept and inspired morality, the bible.  You must come to wish this Mr. Van Tassel good, instead of evil; try to love, instead of hating him.”

“Is that religion?” demanded the mate, in his most dogmatical and determined manner.

“It is Christianity—­its spirit, its very essence; without which the heart cannot be right, let the tongue proclaim what delusion it may.”