ecially, must be brought to life again. Why not? It was not dead;
the soul of it, in this parched-up body, was tragically asleep only.
Atheistic Philosophy was true on its side, and Hume and Voltaire could
on their own ground speak irrefragably for themselves against any
Church: but lift the Church and them into a higher sphere. Of argument,
_they_ died into inanition, the Church revivified itself into pristine
florid vigor,--became once more a living ship of the desert, and
invincibly bore you over stock and stone. But how, but how! By attending
to the "reason" of man, said Coleridge, and duly chaining up the
"understanding" of man: the _Vernunft_ (Reason) and _Verstand_
(Understanding) of the Germans, it all turned upon these, if you could
well understand them,--which you couldn't. For the rest, Mr. Coleridge
had on the anvil various Books, especially was about to write one grand
Book _On the Logos_, which would help to bridge the chasm for us.
So much appeared, however: Churches, though proved false (as you had
imagined), were still true (as you were to imagine): here was an Artist
who could burn you up an old Church, root and branch; and then as the
Alchemists professed to do with organic substances in general, distil
you an "Astral Spirit" from the ashes, which was the very image of the
old burnt article, its air-drawn counterpart,--this you still had, or
might get, and draw uses from, if you could. Wait till the Book on the
Logos were done;--alas, till your own terrene eyes, blind with conceit
and the dust of logic, were purged, subtilized and spiritualized
into the sharpness of vision requisite for discerning such an
"om-m-mject."--The ingenuous young English head, of those days, stood
strangely puzzled by such revelations; uncertain whether it were getting
inspired, or getting infatuated into flat imbecility; and strange
effulgence, of new day or else of deeper meteoric night, colored the
horizon of the future for it.

Let me not be unjust to this memorable man. Surely there was here,
in his pious, ever-laboring, subtle mind, a precious truth, or
prefigurement of truth; and yet a fatal delusion withal. Prefigurement
that, in spite of beaver sciences and temporary spiritual hebetude and
cecity, man and his Universe were eternally divine; and that no past
nobleness, or revelation of the divine, could or would ever be lost to
him. Most true, surely, and worthy of all acceptance. Good also to do
what you can with ol