“Yes; but the new weapons will not be so easily evaded as those of a past age.”

“Will they not?  We shall see.  You must not prophesy; in that, you know, you do not believe.”

“No; but nevertheless we shall see so-called sacred dogma and history exploded, for Mr. Newman—­”

“Thinks so, of course; and he must be right, because he has never been known to be wrong in any of his judgments, or even to vary in them.  But we have had enough, I think, of these subjects this evening, and it is too bad to give you only a controversial welcome.  I want to have some conversation with you about very different things, and more pleasant just now.  We shall have plenty of opportunity to discuss theological points.”

To this Fellowes assented:  they resumed general conversation, and I finished my letters.

——­

July 3.  We were all sitting, as on the previous day, in the library.

“Book-faith!” I heard Harrington say, laughing; “why, as to that I must needs acknowledge that the whole school of Deism, ‘rational’ or ‘spiritual,’ have the least reason in the world to indulge in sneers at book-faith; for, upon my word, their faith has consisted in little else.  Their systems are parchment religions, my friend, all of them;—­books, books, for ever, from Lord Herbert’s time downwards, are all they have yet given to the world.  They have ever been boastful and loud-tongued, but have done nothing; there are no great social efforts, no organizations, no practical projects, whether successful or futile, to which they can point.  The old ‘book-faiths’ which you venture to ridicule have been something at all events; and, in truth, I can find no other ‘faith’ than what is somehow or other attached to a ‘book,’ which has been any thing influential.  The Vedas, the Koran, the Old Testament Scriptures,—­ those of the New,—­over how many millions have these all reigned!  Whether their supremacy be right or wrong, their doctrine true or false, is another question; but your faith, which has been book-faith and lip-service par excellence, has done nothing that I can discover.  One after another of your infidel Reformers passes away, and leaves no trace behind, except a quantity of crumbling ‘book-faith.’  You have always been just on the eve of extinguishing supernatural fables, dogmas, and superstitions,—­and then regenerating the world!  Alas! the meanest superstition that crawls laughs at you; and, false as it may be, is still stronger than you.”

“And your sect,” retorted Fellowes, rather warmly, “if you come to that, is it not the smallest of all?  Is that likely to find favor in the eyes of mankind?”

“Why, no,” said Harrington, with provoking coolness; “but then it makes no pretensions to any thing of the kind.  It were strange if it did; for as the sceptic doubts if any truth can be certainly attained by man on those subjects on which the ‘rational’ or the ‘spiritual’ deist dogmatizes, it of course professes to be incapable of constructing any thing.”