One fine morning, as we were walking together, it being Sunday, MacLean, looking somewhat doubtfully at me, asked whether I had any objection to go to church. I replied, “None whatever,” and turned towards the church. Before we reached it an idea occurred to my mind, and I said, “MacLean, you asked me, in the midst of the bustle at Dublin, about my views respecting miracles. Have you any objection to take a walk with me by the side of the lake, and I will give you a sermon upon that subject.”—“Not the least,” replied my friend; and we turned immediately towards the banks of that beautiful lake.
I then proceeded to explain that those views of the apparently successive creations opened out to us by geology are in reality the fulfilment of one far more comprehensive law. I pointed out that a miracle, instead of being a violation of a law, is in fact the most eminent fulfilment of a vast law—that it bears the same relation to an apparent law that singular points of a curve bear to the visible form of that curve. My friend inquired whether I had published anything upon these subjects. On my answering in the negative, he strongly urged me to do so. I remarked upon the extreme difficulty of making them intelligible to the public. Reverting again to the singular points of curves, I observed that the illustration, which in a few words I had placed before him, would be quite unintelligible even to men of cultivated minds not familiar with the doctrine of curves.
We had now arrived at a bench, on which we sat. MacLean, wrapt up in the new views thus opened out to his mind, remained silent for a long interval. At last, turning towards me, he made these remarks: “How wonderful it is! Here {395} am I, bound by the duties of my profession to inquire into the attributes of the Creator; bound still more strongly by an intense desire to do so; possessing, like yourself, the same powerful science to aid my inquiries; and yet, within this last short half hour, you have opened to me views of the Creator surpassing all of which I have hitherto had any conception!”
These views had evidently made a very deep impression on his mind. Amidst the beautiful scenery in the South of Ireland he frequently reverted to the subject; and, having accompanied me to Waterford, offered to cross the Channel with me if I could spend one single day at Milford Haven.
Unfortunately, long previous arrangements prevented this delay. I parted from my friend, who, though thus recently acquired, seemed, from the coincidence of our thoughts and feelings, to have been the friend of my youth. I little thought, on parting, that one whom I so much admired, so highly esteemed, would in a few short months be separated for ever from the friends who loved him, and from the society he adorned.
CHAPTER XXX. RELIGION.
“Before thy holy altar, sacred Truth,
I bow in manhood, as I knelt in youth;
There let me bend till this frail form decay,