"Plenty, -- plenty,--plenty.

There!" He had not withdrawn his glass, while the Colonel was pouring, for fear it should spill, and now it was running over.
-- It is very odd how all a man's philosophy and theology are at the mercy of a few drops of a fluid which the chemists say consists of nothing but C4, O2, H6.

The Deacon's theology fell off several points towards latitudinarianism in the course of the next ten minutes.

He had a deep inward sense that everything was as it should be, human nature included.

The little accidents of humanity, known collectively to moralists as sin, looked very venial to his growing sense of universal brotherhood and benevolence.
"It will all come right," the Deacon said to himself,--"I feel a joyful conviction that everything is for the best.