a widely different purpose) what the Romish Church has ever declared,—­that the Scriptures, recording spiritual truth, cannot be comprehensible to the natural understanding,—­that, while the Sacred Writings contain a natural letter, it can be translated into spiritual verity only by a few exceptional men.  If this scheme of philosophy was an idealism, it nevertheless manifested itself through the plainest realities.  The solution of the problem seemed to come not from one point, but from all points.  Certainly there was a tendency towards the supersensible; but this direction was taken through stern grappling with the actual.  At one time I struggled against the august spirit that was borne in upon me; at another, I was utterly subdued by the lofty enthusiasm of the writer,—­something within me capable of absolute cognition seemed responding to his appeals.  But the pith and vitality of this marvel could be recognized only by long experience.  And here the student was required to stake his soul upon a perilous cast.  For, if not pursued and fathomed to full satisfaction, this view of things would be disturbing, paralyzing.  With any half-acceptance a man might scarcely live.  It must fashion the mind as an artist fashions the passive metals into a musical instrument, and then every event in time might touch it to exquisite harmony.  But the more ravishing the beauty which seemed offered through perfect realization of this knowledge, the more blighting would be its effects, if entertained in the spirit of a selfish dilettanteism.  For in certain passages were breathed faint suggestions, that moral codes held sacred by the people could not bind the initiated,—­nay, that what seemed most evil might be so explained as to become wholly legitimate to the elect.

It was far into the night.  I had gone over about a third of the manuscript.  Sharp questions assailed my ears.  Was I bound to jeopard all the common good of life for the chance of—­just failing to know existence from a higher plane?  Could I ascend so far above the frailties of average men as to receive in purity and innocence the license which acceptance of this strange scheme would surely give?  Dim-sighted as I was, it was necessary to rise and dispel this splendid phantasm.  I shuddered in sudden alarm at the danger which threatened me.  By a spasmodic movement, in which I failed to recognize any presence of my will, the manuscript was closed and handed to Clifton.  Welcome existence under coarsest and harshest terms, rather than tamper with such fearful possibilities!

For hours the minister had gazed into my face, partaking the excitement to which he had subjected me.  He had lighted and trimmed the candles, as was necessary, but had never broken silence.  And now there came from him the deep sigh of relief from an absorbing interest; he sighed as a little child when the fairytale is ended and the tense strain of attention may be relaxed.

“What was this man?” I demanded, hurriedly.