“By all the gods and goddesses of all the nations,” said Harrington, “I cannot understand it.  How mankind should need such teaching, if your theory be true; how, if they need it, it is possible that you should give it if all external revelation of moral and spiritual truth be impossible; how, if it is impossible, it should be impossible for a God, by a Bible, to give the like; how you can get at the souls of people at all except through the intervention of the senses and the intellect,—­the latter of which you say has nothing to do with the ‘soul,’ and surely the former can have as little; or how, if you can get at them by this intervention, it is impossible that a Bible should,—­is all to me a mystery.  But let that pass.  If your last account be true, one thing is clear; that a splendid career is open to you and your friends.  You can immediately employ this irresistible ‘weapon’ for the verification of your views and the conversion of the human race.  You can renew, or rather realize, the triumphs of early Christianity;—­I say realize, for you and Mr. Newman believe them to be, for the most part, fabulous, and that it was the army of Constantine that conquered the Empire for Christianity; but you can turn such fables into truths.  Surely the least you can do is to be off as a missionary to China or India.  Go to Constantinople, my dear fellow, and take the Great Turk by the beard.  Nor can Mr. Newman do less than repair to Bagdad, upon a second and more hopeful mission.  You will know when you have demolished Mohammedanism, and got fairly into Thibet.  Alexander’s career will be nothing to it.  But alas!  I fear it will be only another variety of that impossible thing,—­a book-revelation!”

“Nay,” said Fellowes, “we must first finish our mission at home, and try our weapons upon you and such as you.  We must subdue such as you first.”

“Then you will never go,” said Harrington.

“Never mind,” I said, “Mr. Fellowes; Harrington is very mischievous to-day.  But, as he said he would not contest the ground of your dictum, that a book-revelation of moral and spiritual truth is impossible, so he has not entered into it.  Will you let me, on a future day, read to you a brief paper upon it?  I have no skill—­or but little—­in that erotetic method of which Harrington is so fond.”  He assented, and here this long conversation ended. ____

July 7.  Harrington and I spent a portion of this morning alone (Fellowes was gone out for a day or two), conversing on various subjects.  I hardly know how it was, but I felt a strong reluctance to enter with formality on that one which yet lay nearest my heart, —­whether from the fear lest I should do more harm than good; lest controversy should, as so often happens, indurate rather than soften the heart:  or perhaps I had some secret distrust of my own temper or his.  Yet, if I felt any thing of the last, I am sure I did him injustice; and (I hope) myself.  Be it as it may, I thought it better