into serious errors,” whenever the distinctly “religious element” was not concerned; this was the only truly “divine” thing about it; but he saw no particular objection to receiving the miracles; at least some of them,—­the best authenticated and most reasonable; perhaps they were of value as part of the complex evidence needful to establish doctrines which, if not absolutely transcendental to the human faculties,—­as the doctrine of a future life, for example,—­yet, apart from revelation, are but matter of conjecture.

The other was also not unwilling to admit the miraculous and inspired character of the revelation, but contended, further, that the “religious element” was to be submitted to human judgment as well as the rest; and that, if apparently absurd, contradictory, or pernicious, as judged by that infallible and ultimate standard, it was to be rejected.

It was amusing to think that, in this little company of three devout believers in the “internal oracle,” no two thought alike!  After the two youths had frankly stated their opinions, Harrington quietly said, “I should much like to ask each of you a few questions.  There are certain difficulties connected with each hypothesis just stated, on which I should be glad to receive some light.  I frankly confess beforehand, however, that I fear that that curiously constructed book, which gives us all so much trouble,—­which will not allow me to say positively either that it is true or false,—­will still less permit you to reject a part or parts at your pleasure.  It is, I must admit, a most independent book in that respect, and treats your spiritual illumination most cavalierly.  It says to you, “Receive me altogether, or reject me altogether, just as you please”; and when men have rejected it altogether, it leaves them certain literary and historical, and moral problems, in all fairness demanding solution, which I doubt whether it is in our power to solve, or to give any decent account of.”

“What do you mean,” said the younger of the two youths, “by affirming that we are compelled to receive the whole book, or to reject it all?”

“Let us see,” said Harrington, “whether there is any consistent stopping-place between.  It appears to me, that, whether by the most singular series of ‘coincidences,’ or by immense subtlety of design, this book, evidently composed by different hands, has yet its materials so interwoven, and its parts so reciprocally dependent, that it is impossible to separate them,—­to set some aside, and say, ‘We will accept these, and reject those’:  just as, in certain textures, no sooner do we begin to take out a particular thread, than we find it is inextricably entangled with others, and those again with others; so that there immediately takes place a prodigious ‘gathering’ at that point, and if we persevere, a rent; but the obstinate part at which we tug will not come away alone.  Whether it is so or not, we shall soon see, by examining