From Mr. Walsh's Letter of 16th June. THE demise of Pope Gregory occasioned some sensation, because unexpected, for he was represented a day or two before the intelligence as in promising health. Some American gentlemen, who arrived in this capital a fortnight ago, from Rome, have mentioned to me that, in their interviews with His Holiness, they found him easy, communicative, and even facetious at the expense of recent scenes in the streets. The following extract from an English letter from Rome bears date only two days before his dissolution, and its testimony to his character is not from a partial source: "The demise of Gregory XVI. was the period originally fixed for a new organization of this country; but it is pleasant to learn that the venerable old pontiff is yet likely to last a year or two; a swelling in the legs has been announced in our last Roman advices; his general health is, however, wonderful for his age. With all his political mistakes (and what could a poor monk have learnt in his cell of this wicked world's ways?) the Roman bishop is a genuine honest character. When he dies, you may fairly reproduce the words of Lord Bacon, concerning his namesake and predecessor: Gregory XIII. fulfilled the age of eightythree years, an absolute good man, sound in mind and in body, temperate, full of good works, and an almsgiver.(Novum Organum. Chapter of Life and Death.)" tion to the Viceroy of Egypt, at his own request, by Jellalapein Bey, to pass some time in Constantinople. He is not expected till Ibrahim Pacha returns from France, to preside over the government of Egypt during the absence of his father. A messenger, it is said, has been dispatched from Alexandria to Paris, to recall Ibrahim for this pur pose. Ali to the Sultan, it is not easy to conjecture. "The meaning of the meditated visit of Mehemet It may arise merely from the caprice of the old man, or from a feeling of religious homage which all Ottomans feel they owe to the successor of the Caliphs. It may have good effects, though it is more likely to have bad ones. A real cordial understanding between the Porte and Egypt may be thereby brought about; or old Mehemet Ali may inspire the Sultan with a taste for his own most despotic and cruel mode of government, which would be very injurious if not destructive to the reform policy he is at present pursuing. The meeting between him and Khosref, the two most veteran Turks alive, and formerly bitter rivals and enemies, would be a fine study for a painterthough to every eye but the parties, Mehemet Ali would be degraded by the association." We are informed by the Epoque of yesterday (cabinet paper) that England has become, like Russia, jealous of French influence at Constantinople as well as at Athens, and is improvidently promoting Russian designs in both capitals. It is France would a long circumstantial complaint. reinstate in the Lebanon the superannuated Emir Beschir, and stickles for the Chaab family at all events. A few days ago, a traveller, devoted to internal improvements, observed to me, referring to Gregory's exit, "Now the Roman states will have railroads." The maxim of the defunct was, stare super vias antiquas, in every concern. He replied A French dignitary of the new school replied to the applicants, "You will have your ways after lately to Prince Metternich-who had said to him, I have quitted the stage." The world expects "The world is quite sick "-" No, Prince, only other innovations, political concessions to popular the absolute governments." or liberal discontents. The Journal des Debats of yesterday signifies that it desires an Italian Pope, that is, one who will look to opinions and exigencies in Italy; who will reform abuses and redeem promises in the political and administrative spheres ; who, in short, will contrive to be independent of Austria. This point will be the more difficult now that the revolutionary billows in the legations and elsewhere have begun to heave. If the disaffected allow a new Pope, of the old leaven, to be fully seated, without extorting stipulations, they will lose their season, their opportunity, during the continuance of peace in Europe. The Debats designates six cardinals whom it believes to have the first chances of the succession; all are above or near seventy years of age, except Mattei, who is fifty-four. Fransoni stands at the head. In some London sheets, Cardinal Acton (English) is mentioned as not without prospects. His elevation would, we may presume, absolutely dismay the Bishop of Exeter. The Thames, you will see, is to be thoroughly fortified against French or American steam fleets: but how to repel an English Pope's bulls? Mehemet, on dit, is about visiting Constantinople, where he will be the most odious, but, at the same time, the most distinguished of all possible guests. It is added that he had set apart a sum of seven millions of francs for the expedition, which may fascinate even Reschid Pacha, the incorruptible. The correspondent at Constantinople of the Morning Chronicle says: "The Sultan has, I am assured, sent an invita NEW BOOKS AND REPRINTS. Harper & Brothers continue to issue in beautiful style their PICTORIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. We do not know of a book of which the size of the type, and the proportions of the page please us better. Their ILLUMINATED AND ILLUSTRATED SHAKSPEARE has reached the 92d No. Their DICTIONARY OF PRACTICAL MEDICINE has reached 0. MRS. SOMERVILLE'S CONNEXION OF THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES, is the 14th Volume of Harper's Miscellany, a collection honorable to the taste and judgment of the publishers. Dr. Anthon's edition of Dr. Smith's SCHOOL DICTIONARY oF GREEK AND ROMAN ANTIQUITIES, will be a useful addition to libraries. CHRONICLES OF THE FIRST PLANTERS OF THE COLONY OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY, from 1623 to 1636. Now first collected from original records and contemporaneous manuscripts, and illustrated with notes. By Alexander Young. Just published in Boston. THE LIFE OF THE RT. HON. GEORGE CANNING, by ROBERT BELL, is the 16th vol. of Harpers' New Miscellany. FRENCH DOMESTIC COOKERY, combining Elegance with Economy: some beautiful passages may be found in this book. It is really less difficult to buy meat, than to get it cooked.-We commend this volume to the suffering public. CAPTAIN O'SULLIVAN, is the 86th No. of their library of select novels. LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 117.-8 AUGUST, 1846. WHEN in a recent number (Quart. Rev., March, 1844) we adverted to the light that might be derived from the literary character of Hume from the collection of his correspondence in the hands of the Edinburgh Royal Society, and to the difficulty which would probably be found in making sufficient extracts without offending public feeling, we were not aware that the work was then actu cealment or palliation of errors and false doctrines, while the public eye must not be insulted by their defence; these were the difficulties and dangers that must have been apparent to any one contemplating the task. On the other hand, we can fancy few things more likely to excite the ambition than the offer of access to a large and hitherto of a young man of letters living in Edinburgh, unused store of materials for the biography of David Hume. His life has many points of interest, from the society in which he mixed as well as writings are in themselves too remarkable, and the peculiarities of his personal character; and his have exercised too great an influence on the opinions of mankind, not to be worthy of the most careful and critical study. though in general unaffected, and occasionally clumsiness; but he has the merit of diligence, and vigorous, is blemished not seldom by verbosity and carries conviction of his honesty and candor, and we must say, he has performed the most delicate of offence than we could have thought possible. part of his task with a more complete avoidance ally in progress, and that an editor had been courageous enough to set himself to the task of On the whole Mr. Burton has, we think, compiling a Life of Hume from these authentic materials. It would have been satisfactory for always agree with him in his views of moral, acquitted himself very creditably. We do not those who want to have the whole truth, if the social, and political questions; his local prejudices editor could have said that all the correspondence must now and then provoke a smile; his diction, was placed at his disposal; but as the matter stands, we must be contented with Mr. Burton's assurance that there is no passage which he felt any inclination to print as being likely to afford interest to the reader, of which the use has been denied him." (Advertisement, p. 11.) We cannot attribute any but good intentions to the Royal Society, or its committee, but we doubt the expediency of such half trust. If they were satisfied of Mr. Burton's sense and delicacy, and that he was quite above converting the relics of the dead into instruments for serving unfair purposes of any sort, there should have been no "denial of the use" of any materials which might tend to illustrate his subject. By acting as they have done, life," affords but meagre food for study and reflecthese gentlemen have not only made themselves tion, when compared with a collection like this of responsible for the perfect propriety of everything his letters and journals, and scrap-books, setting which is here printed, but they have left a suspicion of something remaining behind which appeared to them objectionable, but which might throw light on questions that have been mooted and are still interesting. We will not dwell on this matter. After all, the suppressions may be trifling-of coarse expressions or personalities which, however, might have been safely trusted to the discretion of an editor. But, in reference to a As a collection of Hume's papers this book is tell us much more of his life, that is, of the events extremely valuable. It is true that they do not of his life, than we knew before. Yet a biographical sketch written even by the subject of it himself, and penned with all the simplicity and grace which Hume has thrown into his "own forth the dreams and aspirations of the boy, the opinions and feelings, the loves and hatreds, the views of life, the successes and disappointments of the man, all in the fresh colors and of the size and importance that nearness gives. "David Hume was born at Edinburgh on the 26th of April, 1711." He was the second son of a good gentleman's family, though much too poor He perhaps had in him to the last something of to afford anything like a provision for a second son. the usual pedigree-vanity of the northern gentillatre; but he inherited also the best patrimony of Scotch younger children, careful frugality and a report formerly noticed in this Review, on which Lord Brougham commented in his sketch of Hume, and to which Mr. Burton also alludes in his preface, we cannot but remark that Hume's letters to Dr. Robertson, which were partially used by Dugald Stewart in his life of Robertson, and which proud determination of independence. Whether must at that time have formed part of the corre- that time, which opened few channels for entermainly from the circumstances of the country at spondence in the possession of Baron Hume, are not now in the collection submitted to Mr. Bur-prise and the occupation of youth, or from his ton's examination; nor has this editor found there natural disposition, his talents were not devoted to or elsewhere a single scrap of Robertson's letters any active pursuit or profession. In the multitude of his letters and recollections Hume never mento Hume (vol. ii., p. 48.) tions a school or a teacher of his youth, nor dwells at all upon the time which most men love to look after-life. He gives us to understand only that he back upon as that which gives a color to their was a grave, bookish boy, and that when he had cation which Edinburgh then afforded, he took to run through the paltry course of academical eduphilosophize and build castles after his own We have said that the editor of a life of Hume had a difficult task-difficult in what was to be brought forward, and doubly difficult in what was to be passed over. To reconcile the natural partiality of a biographer for his subject, with the honesty of a true and faithful historian; to avoid all con*Living Age, No. 3. device. At sixteen, he writes to a friend a letter | he had ever really admired a picture or a statue." which his biographer thinks a very remarkable (vol. ii., p. 134.) one: "Just now I am entirely confined to myself and library for diversion. Since we partedea sola voluptas, Solamenque mali— Hume himself tells us he "was seized very early with a passion for literature, which was the ruling passion of his life and a great source of his enjoyments;" but it was not a mere taste for literature in the abstract. He very early set his affections on literary distinction; his craving was "What shall I do to be forever known, And indeed to me they are not a small one: for I take no more of them than I please; for I hate task-reading, and I diversify them at pleasuresometimes a philosopher, sometimes a poet-Like a mightier spirit, he assuredly felt "that which change is not unpleasant nor disserviceable inward prompting that by labor and intense study, neither; for what will more surely engrave upon joined with the strong propensity of nature, he my mind a Tusculan disputation of Cicero's De Ægritudine Lenienda, than an Eclogue or Georgick of Virgil's? The philosopher's wise man and the poet's husbandman agree in peace of mind, in a liberty and independency on fortune, and contempt of riches, power, and glory. Everything is placid and quiet in both nothing perturbed or disordered At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita– might perhaps leave something so written to aftertimes as they should not willingly let it die." He devoted himself very seriously to study, and at an age when other men are just girding themselves to the fight of life, he was meditating lucubrations in philosophy with which he should one day found a school, and astonish the world. With such a settled scheme in prospect, he successively threw aside the study of the law, to which no doubt his relations had destined him, and the mercantile profession, with a view to which he spent a few months of 1734 (ann. ætat. 23) at Bristol. His visit to Bristol marks the era of an undated "These lines will, in my opinion, come nothing letter to a physician, whom the editor conjectures short of the instruction of the finest sentence in to have been the eccentric Dr. Cheyne; and it is Cicero and is more to me, as Virgil's life is more to the draft of this letter preserved by Hume that the subject of my ambition, being what I can we owe the very curious proof that, with all his apprehend to be more within my power. For the natural coolness of temperament and acquired perfectly wise man, that outbraves fortune, is composure of mind, the young skeptic had by no surely greater than the husbandman who slips by means escaped utterly the maladies which overher; and, indeed, this pastoral and Saturnian hap-working the brain usually inflicts on the general piness I have in a great measure come at just now. physical system :— I live like a king, pretty much by myself, neither "You must know then that, from my earliest full of action nor perturbation-molles somnos. infancy, I found always a strong inclination to This state, however, I can foresee is not to be books and letters. As our college education in relied on. My peace of mind is not sufficiently Scotland, extending little further than the lanconfirmed by philosophy to withstand the blows of guages, ends commonly when we are about fourrtune. This greatness and elevation of soul is teen or fifteen years of age, I was after that left to to be found only in study and contemplation—this my own choice in my reading, and found it incline can alone teach us to look down on human acci-me almost equally to books of reasoning and phidents."-vol. i., p. 14. losophy, and to poetry and the polite authors. Now we do not say that this is a piece of mere Every one who is acquainted either with the phiaffectation, though its being found in draft savors losophers or critics, knows that there is nothing somewhat of a school exercise; for what boy yet established in either of these two sciences, and keeps copies of his real confidential letters to his that they contain little more than endless disputes, schoolfellows? We allow it may have been a even in the most fundamental articles. Upon good deal what at the time was passing in the lad's examination of these, I found a certain boldness mind; and those day-dreams of poetry and even of temper growing in me, which was not inclined early attempts at stoicism are not so rare among to submit to any authority in these subjects, but youths of secluded babits and misdirected educa- led me to seek out some new medium, by which tion as Mr. Burton supposes. Undoubtedly they truth might be established. After much study are not for good; and with a less vigorous nature and reflection on this, at last, when I was about of mind or of body, the indigence would have eighteen years of age, there seemed to be opened produced upon Hume its accustomed penalty. up to me a new scene of thought, which transBut he wanted some of the stuff that goes to the ported me beyond measure, and made me, with an composition of a visionary. From his youth up- ardor natural to young men, throw up every other wards he was devoid alike of passion and imagi-pleasure or business to apply entirely to it. The nation, and it needed little effort to give him that | law, which was the business I designed to follow, control of himself which it was his first object to appeared nauseous to me, and I could think of no obtain. His biographer, with all his pains, can-other way of pushing my fortune in the world, but not satisfy himself that he ever felt the least access that of a scholar and philosopher. I was infinitely of love, and all the perturbations of his mind seem happy in this course of life for some months; till to have been never much removed from that equa- at last, about the beginning of September, 1729, bility which he perhaps fancied he had by laudable efforts schooled himself into. He seems to have had no sympathy with rural pursuits and pleasures. His Arcadian longings never passed beyond the study of the Eclogues. "It does not appear from any incident in his life or allusion in his letters that all my ardor seemed in a moment to be extinguished, and I could no longer raise my mind to that pitch, which formerly gave me such excessive pleasure. I felt no uneasiness or want of spirits, when I laid aside my book; and therefore never imagined there was any bodily distemper in the case, but that my coldness proceeded from a laziness of tem- being entirely hypothetical, and depending more per, which must be overcome by redoubling my upon invention than experience; every one conapplication. In this condition I remained for nine sulted his fancy in erecting schemes of virtue and months, very uneasy to myself, as you may well of happiness, without regarding human nature, imagine, but without growing any worse, which upon which every moral conclusion must depend. was a miracle. There was another particular, This, therefore, I resolved to make my principal which contributed, more than anything, to waste study, and the source from which I would derive my spirits and bring on me this distemper, which every truth in criticism as well as morality. I was, that having read many books of morality, believe it is a certain fact, that most of the philossuch as Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch, and being ophers who have gone before us have been oversmit with their beautiful representations of virtue thrown by the greatness of their genius, and that and philosophy, I undertook the improvement of little more is required to make a man succeed in my temper and will, along with my reason and this study, than to throw off all prejudices either understanding. I was continually fortifying my- for his own opinions or for those of others. At self with reflections against death, and poverty, least this is all I have to depend on for the truth and shame, and pain, and all the other calamities of my reasonings, which I have multiplied to such of life. These no doubt are exceeding useful, a degree, that within these three years, I find I when joined with an active life, because the occa- have scribbled many a quire of paper, in which sion being presented along with the reflection, there is nothing contained but my own inventions. works it into the soul, and makes it take a deep This, with the reading most of the celebrated impression; but in solitude they serve to little books in Latin, French, and English, and acquirother purpose than to waste the spirits, the force ing the Italian, you may think a sufficient business of the mind meeting with no resistance, but wast- for one in perfect health, and so it would, had it ing itself in the air, like our arm when it misses its been done to any purpose; but my disease was a aim. This, however, I did not learn but by expe- cruel encumbrance on me. I found that I was not rience, and till I had already ruined my health, able to follow out any train of thought, by one though I was not sensible of it. * continued stretch of view, but by repeated inter time upon other objects. Yet with this inconvenience I have collected the rude materials for many volumes; but in reducing these to words, when one must bring the idea he comprehended in gross, nearer to him, so as to contemplate its minutest parts, and keep it steadily in his eye, so as to copy these parts in order-this I found impracticable for me, nor were my spirits equal to so severe an employment. Here lay my greatest calamity. I had no hopes of delivering my opinions with such elegance and neatness as to draw to me the attention of the world, and I would rather live and die in obscurity than produce them maimed and imperfect. "I now began to take some indulgence to my-ruptions, and by refreshing my eye from time to self; studied moderately, and only when I found my spirits at their highest pitch, leaving off before I was weary, and trifling away the rest of my time in the best manner I could. In this way, I lived with satisfaction enough; and on my return to town next winter found my spirits very much recruited, so that, though they sank under me in the higher flights of genius, yet I was able to make considerable progress in my former designs. I was very regular in my diet and way of life from the beginning, and all that winter made it a constant rule to ride twice, or thrice a week, and walk every day. For these reasons, I expected, when I returned to the country, and could renew my exercise with less interruption, that I would perfectly recover. But in this I was much mistaken; for next summer, about May, 1731, there grew upon me a very ravenous appetite, and as quick a digestion, which I at first took for a good symptom, and was very much surprised to find it bring back a palpitation of heart, which I had felt very little of before. This appetite, however, had an effect very unusual, which was to nourish me extremely; so that in six weeks' time, I passed from the one extreme to the other; and being before tall, lean, and raw-boned, became on a sudden the most sturdy, robust, healthful-like fellow you have seen, with a ruddy complexion and a cheerful countenance. In excuse for my riding, and care of my health, I always said that I was afraid of consumption, which was readily believed by my looks, but now everybody congratulated me upon my thorough recovery. "Such a miserable disappointment I scarce ever remember to have heard of. The small distance betwixt me and perfect health makes me the more uneasy in my present situation. It is a weakness rather than a lowness of spirits which troubles me, and there seems to be as great a difference betwixt my distemper and common vapors, as betwixt vapors and madness. I have noticed in the writings of the French mystics, and in those of our fanatics here, that when they give a history of the situation of their souls, they mention a coldness and desertion of the spirit, which frequently returns; and some of them, at the beginning, have been tormented with it many years. As this kind of devotion depends entirely on the force of passion, and consequently of the animal spirits, I have often thought that their case and mine were pretty parallel, and that their rapturous admirations might discompose the fabric of the nerves and brain, as much as profound reflections, and that warmth or enthusiasm which is inseparable from them. "Thus I have given you a full account of the condition of my body; and without staying to ask pardon, as I ought to do, for so tedious a story, shall explain to you how my mind stood all this "However this may be, I have not come out of time, which on every occasion, especially in this the cloud so well as they commonly tell us they distemper, have a very near connexion together. have done, or rather began to despair of ever Having now time and leisure to cool my inflamed recovering. To keep myself from being melanimagination, I began to consider seriously how I choly on so dismal a prospect, my only security should proceed in my philosophical inquiries. I was in peevish reflections on the vanity of the found that the moral philosophy transmitted to us world and of all human glory; which, however by antiquity labored under the same inconvenience just sentiments they may be esteemed, I have that has been found in their natural philosophy, of found can never be sincere, except in those who are possessed of them. Being sensible that all my | said book,_not exceeding one thousand copies philosophy would never make me contented in my thereof.' The author, in return, receives 50%., present situation, I began to rouse up myself; and and twelve bound copies of the book. The transbeing encouraged by instances of recovery from action is on the whole creditable to the discernworse degrees of this distemper, as well as by the ment and liberality of Mr. Noone. It may be assurances of my physicians, I began to think of questioned, whether, in this age, when knowledge something more effectual than I had hitherto tried. has spread so much wider, and money is so much I found, that as there are two things very bad for less valuable, it would be easy to find a bookseller, this distemper, study and idleness, so there are who, on the ground of its internal merits, would two things very good, business and diversion; and give 501. for an edition of a new metaphysical that my whole time was spent betwixt the bad, work, by an unknown and young author, born and with little or no share of the good. For this rea- brought up in a remote part of the empire. son I resolved to seek out a more active life; and These articles refer to the first and second of the though I could not quit my pretensions in learning three volumes of the Treatise of Human Nabut with my last breath, to lay them aside for some ture; and they were accordingly published in time, in order the more effectually to resume them. January, 1739. They include Book I. Of the Upon examination, I found my choice confined to Understanding,' and 'Book II. Of the Pastwo kinds of life, that of a travelling governor, and sions.'"-Vol. i., p. 65. that of a merchant. The first, besides that it is in some respects an idle life, was, I found, unfit for me; and that because from a sedentary and retired way of living, from a bashful temper, and from a narrow fortune, I had been little accustomed to general companies, and had not confidence and knowledge enough of the world to push my fortune, or to be serviceable in that way. I therefore fixed my choice upon a merchant; and having got recommendation to a considerable trader in Bristol, I am just now hastening thither, with a resolution to forget myself, and everything that is past-to engage myself, as far as is possible, in that course of life-and to toss about the world, from one pole to the other, till I leave this distemper behind me. "As I am come to London in my way to Bristol, I have resolved, if possible to get your advice, though I should take this absurd method of procuring it. All the physicians I have consulted, though very able, could never enter into my distemper; because not being persons of great learning beyond their own profession, they were unacquainted with these motions of the mind. Your fame pointed you out as the properest person to resolve my doubts, and I was determined to have somebody's opinion, which I could rest upon in all the varieties of fears and hopes incident to so lingering a distemper."-p. 31. What the answer to this letter was, we do not learn, nor even whether it was ever sent. Hume soon fled from Bristol and its ledgers. He had recovered his health-and then spent three years in France, acquiring the language, conversing with the Jesuits of La Flêche, studying the miracles of the Abbé Paris, and composing his "Treatise of Human Nature." "After passing three years very agreeably in that country, I came over to London in 1737." Hume was twenty-seven-self-educated, or educated by books alone; brought up in solitude; reasoning much with himself; careless of the prejudices of others; full of courage; confident of his powers; with the whole feelings of his nature concentrated in a passion for literary fame. He felt no compunctious visitings at the thought of abolishing a creed and establishing a paradox, but received his fifty pounds, and hoped to startle the world and to become a man of mark. We do not say he wrote contrary to his opinions; but to throw upon the world a book of crude unweighed philosophy, tampering in such perilous matter, is but little less criminal. Hume lived to see something of this, and to regret his juvenile performance. He was anxious that it should be forgotten, and complained of the injustice of judging him by its contents (p. 98.) At the time, however, he was only disappointed that it produced so little sensation. "It fell," he says, "still-born from the press;" but yet he published an additional volume three years afterwards, and was soon called upon for a second edition. It was an unreasonable philosopher who could hope for more success. 66 Upon this book, which contains the whole essence of Hume's philosophy, announced with the rashness of youth, and all the dogmatism with which he afterwards reproached others, we shall not dwell. We think his biographer is mistaken in calling it "the solitary labor of one mind." I may be so as regards its elaboration and style; but Hume has himself told us of his previous reading, and it would not be difficult to trace his system to its source in those studies. With regard to the principles evolved in the "Treatise," the book is now found only on the shelf of the metaphysician and scholar; and we shall not, we hope, be misunderstood when we venture to regard it as a mere His first transaction with a bookseller is charac-metaphysical exercitation, a speculation probably teristic. Among the MSS. to which Mr. Burton has had access is one bearing the following title: "Articles of agreement, made, concluded, and agreed upon the 26th day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight, and in the twelfth year of the reign of our sovereign lord King George the Second, between David Hume of Lancaster Court of the one part, and John Noone of Cheapside, London, bookseller, of the other part." not intended and certainly not at all calculated to affect human life or conduct. It is in truth a pretty, philosophical puzzle-a clever, dexterous argumentation for what every one feels to be untrue, and the completest proof of which could never alter the conduct upon any cognate or dependant subject. He essays to prove by an examination of the mind that nothing is known, and in a curious circle to demonstrate that nothing has been or can be demonstrated. Such an universal skepticism scarcely can merit serious discussion. However dangerous for shallow dogmatists who took the first propositions, and would not work out the necessary corollary, it is not very apt to mislead sane thinkers, when the facts of revelation and the |