surely it may be possible for God to be as useful in teaching positive truth.  I almost tremble, I assure you, lest, by his most conspicuous success in imparting to you such important truth, and reclaiming you from such a fundamental error, which lay at the very threshold of your ‘spiritual’ progress, he may, so far from convincing mankind of the truth of his principle, lead them rather to believe that a ‘book-revelation’ may have been very possible, and of singular advantage.  But, to speak the truth, I am by no means sure that Mr. Newman has not done something more than what we have attributed to him, and whether his book-revelation be not a true divine revelation to you also.”

Fellowes looked rather curious, and I thought a little angry.

“My good friend,” said Harrington, “I am sure you will not refuse me every satisfaction you can, in my present state of doubt and perplexity; that you will render me (as indeed you have promised) all the assistance in your power, by kindly telling me what you know of your own religious development and history.  I cannot sufficiently admire your candor and frankness hitherto.”

“You may depend upon it,” said Fellowes, “I will not hesitate to answer any questions you choose to put.  I am not ashamed of the system I have adopted,—­or rather selected, for I do not agree with any one writer—­although I confess I wish I were a better advocate of it.”

“O, rest assured that ‘spiritualism’ can lose nothing by your advocacy.  As to your independence of mind, you act, I am sure, upon the maxim in verba nullius jurare.  Your system seems to me quite a spices of eclecticism.  There is no fear of my confounding you with the good old lady who, after having heard the sermon of some favorite divine, was asked if she understood him.  ‘Understand him!’ said she; ’do you think I would presume?—­blessed man!  Nor with the Scotchwoman who required, as a condition of her admiration, that a sermon should contain some things at least which transcended her comprehension.  ‘Eh. it is a’ vara weel,’ said she, on hearing one which did not fulfil this reasonable condition; ’but do ye call that fine preaching?—­there was na ae word that I could na explain mysel.’”

Fellowes smiled good-naturedly, and then said, “I was going to observe, in relation to the present subject, that it is ’moral and spiritual’ truth which Mr. Newman says it is impossible should be the subject of a book-revelation.”

Harrington, apparently without listening to him, suddenly said, “By the by, you agree with Mr. Newman, I am sure, that God is to be approached by the individual soul without any of the nonsense of mediation, which has found so general—­all but universal—­sanction in the religious systems of the world?”

“Certainly,” said Fellowes, “nor is there probably any ‘spiritualist’ (in whatever we may be divided) who would deny that.”

“Supposing it true, does it not seem to you the must delightful and stupendous of all spiritual truths?”