I can't help telling you of your faults; for I am a true Briton, sir, a true Briton, and leave lying to slaves and Frenchmen." "You are in an error," said Trollolop; "Frenchmen don't lie, at least not naturally, for in the human mind, as I before said, the Divine Author has implanted a principle of veracity which--" "My dear sir," interrupted Callythorpe, very affectionately, "you remind me of what people say of you." "Memory may be reduced to sensation, since it is only a weaker sensation," quoth Trollolop; "but proceed." "You know, Trollolop," said Callythorpe, in a singularly endearing intonation of voice, "you know that I never flatter; flattery is unbecoming a true friend,--nay, more, it is unbecoming a native of our happy isles, and people do say of you that you know nothing whatsoever, no, not an iota, of all that nonsensical, worthless philosophy of which you are always talking.

Lord St.George said the other day 'that you were very conceited.'-- 'No, not conceited,' replied Dr .-- --, 'only ignorant;' so if I were you, Trollolop, I would cut metaphysics; you're not offended ?" "By no means," cried Trollolop, foaming at the mouth.
"For my part," said the good-hearted Sir Christopher, whose wrath had now subsided, rubbing his hands,--"for my part, I see no good in any of those things: I never read--never--and I don't see how I'm a bit the worse for it.

A good man, Linden, in my opinion, only wants to do his duty, and that is very easily done." "A good man; and what is good ?" cried the metaphysician, triumphantly.
"Is it implanted within us?
Hobbes, according to Reid, who is our last, and consequently best, philosopher, endeavours to demonstrate that there is no difference between right and wrong." "I have no idea of what you mean," cried Sir Christopher.
"Idea!" exclaimed the pious philosopher.

"Sir, give me leave to tell you that no solid proof has ever been advanced of the existence of ideas: they are a mere fiction and hypothesis.

Nay, sir, 'hence arises that scepticism which disgraces our philosophy of the mind.' Ideas!--Findlater, you are a sceptic and an idealist." "I ?" cried the affrighted baronet; "upon my honour I am no such thing.
Everybody knows that I am a Christian, and--" "Ah!" interrupted Callythorpe, with a solemn look, "everybody knows that you are not one of those horrid persons,--those atrocious deists and atheists and sceptics, from whom the Church and freedom of old England have suffered such danger.