The student acknowledged that there was certainly much vague admiration and pretension amongst young Englishmen in this matter; but thought that profounder views were to be gathered from these sources than was generally acknowledged.

“Very well,” replied Harrington; “I do not deny it, perhaps it is so; and whenever you choose to justify that opinion by expressing in intelligible English the special views of the special author you think thus worthy of attention, whether he be from Germany or Timbuctoo, I humbly venture to say that I will (so far from laughing) examine them with as much patience as yourself.  But if you wish to cure me of laughing, I beseech you to refrain from all vague appeals to wholesale authority.

“The most ludicrous circumstance, however,” he continued, “connected with this German mania is, that in many cases our admiring countrymen are too late in changing their metaphysical fashions; so that they sometimes take up with rapture a man whom the Germans are just beginning to cast aside.  Our servile imitators live on the crumbs that fall from the German table, or run off with the well-picked bone to their kennel, as if it were a treasure, and growl and show their teeth to any one that approaches them, in very superfluous terror of being deprived of it.  It would be well if they were to imitate the importers of Parisian fashions, and let us know what is the philosophy or theology a la mode, that we may not run a chance of appearing perfect frights in the estimate even of the Germans themselves.”

Coffee was here brought in:  and Harrington said, “Thank you, gentlemen, for your candor, though your unanimity does not seem very admirable.  In one sentiment, indeed, you are pretty well agreed,—­that the Bible is to be discarded; though you are infinitely at variance, as to the grounds on which you think so; Catholic friends deeming it too precious to be intrusted to every body’s hands, and the rest of you, as a gift not worth receiving.  But as to the systems you would substitute in its place, they are so portentously various that they are hardly likely to cure me of my scepticism; nor even my worthy relative here”—­pointing to me—­“of his old-fashioned orthodoxy.  He will say, ’Much as we theologians differ as to the interpretation of Scripture, our differences are neither so great nor so formidable as those of these gentlemen.  I had better remain where I am.’”

Several of the guests stared at me as they would at the remains of a megatherium.

“Is it possible,” said one at last, “that you, Sir, can retain a belief in the divine inspiration of the Bible,—­excluding incidental errors of transcription and so on?”

“It is not only possible,” said I, “but certain.”

“Do you mean,” said the other, “that you can give satisfactory answers to the objections which can be brought against various parts of it?”

“By no means,” said I; “while I think that many may be wholly solved, and more, partially, I admit there are some which are altogether insoluble.’