Harrington, who was sitting by, smiled:  “You speak of your ‘insight’ and ‘direct vision’ much as a Highlander might talk of his ‘second sight.’  As to your present difficulty, do you remember the advice of Ranald of the Mist to Allan M’Aulay, when the ‘vision’ obstinately averted its face from him?  ‘Have you reversed your own plaid,’ said Ranald, ’according to the rule of the experienced seers in such cases?’ You do not wear a plaid, George, but suppose you try the experiment of turning your coat inside out.”

“Really, Harrington,” said Fellowes, with becoming solemnity, “‘insight’ is far too serious a subject to joke upon.”  “Why, my dear fellow,” said the other, “you do not think I am going to treat your ‘insight’ with more respect than we treat the Bible.”

“Odi profanum,” said Fellowes, almost angrily.

“No man hateth his own flesh,” said Harrington, with provoking quiet; “and that, I am sure, is from no profane writer.  As to the ‘odi profanum,’ why, I shall simply say, that

’You can quote it,
With as much truth as he who wrote it.’”

So saying, he left the room.  I was not sorry that he was gone, as I thought perhaps Fellowes might be more communicative.  I asked him why he felt Mr. Newman’s arguments on this subject unsatisfactory; why he could not acquiesce in them.

“In the first place, then,” said he, “I was struck with the fact, that, while admitting that he had no ‘spiritual insight’ on the subject of a future life, he yet admits that others may have enjoyed what is impossible to him; that there may be souls favored with this ‘vision,’ though clouds obscure his own.  It is true he has admitted (and indeed who can deny it?) that the spiritual faculty is not equally developed in all men;—­though, as it is not, I feel some difficulty in rejecting the arguments hence arising for the possibility and utility of an external revelation;—­yet at the best, if the faculty may be so uncertain in reference to so important a question, when consulted by so diligent and deep a student of its oracles as Mr. Newman, if even his soul may be dubious on such a point,—­why, upon my soul, I sometimes hardly know what to think.  Again, Mr. Newman says, that some may have, as by special privilege from God, what is denied to him.  Now really this looks a little too much like favoring the vulgar view of inspiration, nay, a sort of Calvinistic ‘election’ in this matter; it seems to me to cast doubts both on the competency and the uniformity of the sublime ’spiritual faculty,’ even when most sedulously consulted.”

“It does look a little like it,” said I; “and what next?”

“In the next place, I am free to confess, that, if I may be allowed to argue against such an authority—­”

“O, remember, I pray, that you are of the school of free thought:  do not Bibliolatrize.”