“Renounce the spirit of it! say rather, that in fact I have only now discovered it.  Though no Christian in the ordinary sense, I am, I hope, something better; and a truer Christian in the spirit than thousands of those in the letter.”

“Letter and spirit! my friend,” said Harrington, “you puzzle me exceedingly; you tell me one moment that you do not believe in historical Christianity at all, either its miracles or dogmas,—­these are fables; but in the next, why, no old Puritan could garnish such discourse with a more edifying use of the language of Scripture.  I suppose you will next tell me that you understand the ‘spirit’ of Christianity better even than Paul.”

“So I do,” said our visitor complacently, “‘Paulo majora canamus’; for after all he was but half delivered from his Jewish prejudices; and when he quitted nonsense of the Old Testament,—­though in fact he never did thoroughly,—­he evidently believed the fables of the New just as much as the pure truths which lie at the basis of ‘spiritual’ Christianity.  We separate the dross of Christianity from its fine gold.  ’The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life,’—­’the fruit of the spirit is joy, peace,’ not—–­”

“Upon my word,” said Harrington, laughing, “I shall begin to fancy presently that Douce Davie Deans has turned infidel, and shall expect to hear of ‘right-hand failings off and left-hand defections.’  But tell me, if you would have me think you rational, is not your meaning this:—­that the New Testament contains, amidst an infinity of rubbish, the statement of certain ‘spiritual’ truths which, and which alone, you recognize.”

“Certainly.”

“But you do not acknowledge that these are derived from the New Testament.”

“Heaven forbid; they are indigenous to the heart of man, and are anterior to all Testaments, old or new.”

“Very well; then speak of them as your heart dictates, and do not, unless you would have the world think you a hypocrite, willing to cajole it with the idea that you are a believer in the New Testament, while you in fact reject it, or one of the most barren uninventive of all human beings, or fanatically fond of mystical language,—­do not, I say, affect this very unctuous way of talking.  And, for another reason, do not.  I beseech you, adopt the phraseology of men who, according to your view, must surely have been either the most miserable fanatics or the most abominable impostors; for if they believed all that system of miracle and doctrine they professed, and this were not true, they were certainly the first; and if they did not believe it.  They were as certainly the second.”

“Pardon me; I believe them to have been eminently holy men,—­full of spiritual wisdom and of a truly sublime faith, though conjoined with much ignorance and credulity, which it is unworthy of us to tolerate.”