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peaceful visitation of Norham Castle, certainly associate ourselves with this most interesting the most interesting of all objects of a similar pile :description on the whole course of the Tweed.

" These tedious leagues of English ground scem to Our first approach to this very striking ruin was lengthen under our tread,' said Sir John Assueton, breakfrom Lees, when we were upon a visit to the late ing a silence that was stealing upon their march, with the Sir John Marjoribanks, grandfather of the present descending shades of evening. *Dost thou not long for baronet, and we shall not easily forget the deep have been forsaken by the last glimmer of twilight?'

one cheering glance of the silver Tweed, ere its stream shall impression it then made upon us. The ancient

“ 'In sooth, I should be well contented to behold it,' name of this castle appears to have been Ubban- replied Hepborne. • The night droops fast, and our ford. It stands on a steep bank, partially wooded, jailed palfreys already lag their ears from weariness. and overhanging the river. It seems to have Even our unbacked war-steeds, albeit they have carried occupied a very large piece of ground, as the lost some deal of their morning's metal, and, judging

no heavier burden than their trappings, have nathless ruins are very extensive, consisting of a strong from their sobered paces, methinks they would gladly exsquare keep, considerably shattered, with a num- change their gay chamfronts for the more vulgar hempen ber of banks and fragments of buildings, enclosed halters of some well-littered stable.' within an outer wall, of a great circuit; the whole

«Depardieux! but I have mine own sympathy with forming the most picturesque subject for the lie at Norham to-night?'

them,” said Assueton. · Said'st thou not that we should artist. It was here that Edward I. resided when

' Methought to cast the time and the distance so,' reengaged in acting as umpire in the dispute con- plied Hepborne; and by those heights that twinkle from cerning the Scottish crown. From its position, yonder dark mass, rising against that yellow streak in the exactly upon the very line of the border, no meting our day's journey to that of the sun. Look be

sky, I should judge that I have not greatly missed in war ever took place between the two countries tween these groups of trees-nay, more to the right, over without subjecting it to frequent sieges, during that swelling bank ; that, if I mistake not, is the keep of which it was repeatedly taken and retaken. Norham Castle, and those are doubtless the torches of

The watch The Greys of Chillingham Castle were often the warders, moving along the battlements.

must be setting ere this. Let us put on.' successively captains of the garrison ; yet as the

" . Thou dost not mean to crave hospitality from the castle was situated in the patrimony of St. captain of the strength, dost thou?' demanded Assueton. Cuthbert, the property was in the see of Durham “Such was my purpose,' replied Hepborne ; and till the Reformation. After that period, it passed the rather that the good old knight, Sir Walter de Selby, through various hands. At the union of the hath a fair fame for being no churlish host." crown it was in the possession of Sir Robert

“ The night was soft and tranquil. The moon was up, Carey, afterwards Earl of Monmouth, for his and her silvery light poured itself on the broad walls of own life and that of two of his sons. After King the keep and the extensive fortifications of Norham Castle, James' accession, Carey sold Norham Castle to rising on the height before them, and was partially rcGeorge Home, Earl of Dunbar, for £6000. Ac- flected from the water of the farther side of the Tweed,

here sweeping widely under the rocky eminence, and cording to Mr. Pinkerton, there is, in the British threw its shadow half-way across it. They climbed up Museum, col. B. 6,216, a curious memoir of the the hollow way leading to the outer ditch, and were imDacres on the state of Norham Castle in 1522, mediately challenged by the watch upon the walls. The not long after the battle of Flodden, The inner pass-word was given by their guide, the massive gate was ward or keep is represented as impregnable. bridge lowered at the signal, and they passed under a

unbarred, the portcullis lifted, and the clanging draw“ The provisions are three great vats of salt eels, dark archway to the door of the outer court of guard. forty-four kine, three hogsheads of salted salmon, There they were surrounded by pikemen and billmen, forty quarters of grain, besides many cows, and and narrowly examined by the light of torches ; but the four hundred sheep, lying under the castle wall officer of the guard appeared, and the squire's mission

being known to him, they were formally saluted, and per1 nightly ; but a number of the arrows wanted mitted to pass on. Crossing a broad area, they came to

feathers, and a good Fletcher (i. e. maker of ar- the inner gate, where they underwent a similar scrutiny. rows) was required.”

They had now reached that part of the fortress where We spent the greater part of a day in wander- stood the barracks, the stables, and various other building about the ruins, visiting every hole and corner in the centre arose the keep, huge in bulk, and adamant

ings necessarily belonging to so important a place; while that we could thrust our head into, trying to make in strength, defended by a broad ditch where not natuout the uses of the various fragments of masonry, rally rendered inaccessible by the precipitous steep, and and how they were employed, restoring the whole approachable from one point only by a narrow bridge. in our mind's-eye to its ancient state, and in fill- Lights appeared from some of its windows, and sounds of

life came faintly from within ; but all was still in the ing the court yard, stables, guard-houses, and the buildings around them, the measured step of the sentinel ramparts, with the rough and hardy warriors who on the wall above them forming the only interruption to might have constituted its garrison. How beauti- the silence that prevailed.” fully has Sir Walter Scott thrown himself back It is amusing enough to perceive how the transinto those times in the charming verses with lator of the French edition, published at Paris in which he opens Marmion !

1828, renders some of the original passages. InAfter referring to the brilliant lines from the stead of making the stranger knights receive a great minstrel, it is with much diffidence, and not military compliment from the guard on their enwithout a certain dread of being accused of pre- trance into the castle, the French translator says, sumption, that we venture to give a few sentences L'officier de garde arriva en ce moment, et comme from the Wolfe of Badenoch, in which we have il connaissait la mission de l'écuyer, il le salua introduced our hero to Norham Castle ; our only poliment, et ordonna qu'on les laissât passer ;" apology is an earnest and romantic desire to thus converting what was intended to be a

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military salute from the guard, in compliment to The whole of this parish belongs to the s. the two knights, into a courteous bow from its of Ladykirk, a magnificent property. 'Th. captain to the squire. We must, however, do the and grounds are extensive, and the situati translator the justice to say that, upon the whole, culiarly agreeable. Perhaps the most red it is remarkably well done, though, perhaps, not able thing here worthy of notice is ide :quite equal to the Italian version.

ing containing the stables. We beliet# : Gentle reader, we have had a long and tortuous, these are hardly to be matched in the size voyage of it together, and we have still a consider- and attached to them there is a grand :. able distance to go by water, down a broader and a house of most princely proportions. Hori deeper stream. But as you have hitherto confided is at the lower end of the parish, and, as its yourself without scruple to our care, and have had name imports, it is situated in a quiet este no reason to complain of having done so, we think a valley sloping towards the Tweed. 13 that we may safely assure you that we shall con- hence to the sea the river is more adapte. vey you to the end of your voyage without danger net and coble than for angling. or accident, and this without having recourse to As we proceed downwards, the scenery C the barque in which the holy St. Cuthbert chose Tweed may be said to be majestic, from tito make so many voyages after his death. Nor- wooded banks which sweep downwards ham was one of his favourite resting places ; and, northern shore. The surface of the water is having afterwards voyaged to Melrose, he is said tinually animated by the salmon coble sba to have steered himself in his stone coffin from athwart the stream, whilst employed in thes thence to Till-mouth :

of dropping the net, making its curse insa “ Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail

the shore, and leaving its line of floating er To vie with these in holy tale ;

indicate where it hangs. And then the gros His body's resting place of old, How oft their patron changed, they told;

stalwart, hardy fishermen, standing on the si How when the Druid burn'd their pile,

in their enormous boots, and ready to siir: The monks Aed forth from Holy Isle ;

line as soon as it is handed to them, and a O’er northern mountains, marsh, and moor, picturesque attitudes, as they lean forvando From sea to sea, from shore to shore,

the rope to haul the net ashore, all comte Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore. They rested them in fair Melrose ;

produce a wonderful degree of interest. TE, But though, alive, he loved it well,

not rendered the less as the bight of the Not there his relics might repose ;

approaches the shore, and the silvery-sidel. For, wondrous tale to tell !

are seen within it, lashing about in their In his stone coffin forth he rides,

effort to escape from the toils. If you throt A ponderous bark for river tides, Yet, light as gossamer it glides,

effect of sunset over all this, where the vividi Downward to Till-mouth cell.

catch and inflame every warelet produced by The parish of Ladykirk, which now comes accidental agitation of the water, you will a under our notice, upon the left bank of the Tweed, plete the picture with the most glowing colour. was created at the Reformation by the junction Broadmeadows is a handsome modern man of Upsetlington and Horndean. James IV. had but Paxton House is the most prominent of built a church which he dedicated to the Virgin here. It is not devoid of architectural dig Mary, whence it received its name. The cause but it is sadly destroyed by its enormous se of his doing so was the circumstance of his nearly It appears to stand on the brink of the ven losing his life when crossing the Tweed by a ford, bank immediately overhanging the Tweed. It at the head of his army, when he suddenly found was the residence of George Hume of Paxtos. himself in a situation of great peril, from the very remarkable man. We had the honour violence of the flood, which had nearly carried spending a week here with him, and found 3 him away. In his emergency he vowed to build society extremely delightful. Besides baring i a chapel to the Virgin, in case she would be so superior head for business, he was fond good as deliver him, and his vow was executed literature, and was one of that intellectual be accordingly. An ancient monastery existed here, that contributed to the production of the “ Mim the site of which is known by a few large stones and “Lounger." He was a man of some ta ste a's and the superior richness of the soil in what is as is proved by the gallery of pictures attached : called the Chapel Park, a little lower down the the house. This residence now belongs to : river than Upsetlington. The late Mr. Robert- Foreman Hume. The name of Foreman naturals son of Ladykirk erected three pillars over three leads us to notice that very distinguished cha very fine springs that rise here, inscribing on racter, Andrew Foreman, who was a native of thi them the names of the Nun's, the Monk's, and St. parish of Hutton. The “Statistical Account Mary's Wells. It is capable of awakening concisely sketches his history. He was Bishop strange associations learn that, in a field oppo- Moray, Archbishop of Bourges in Frauee, an' site to Norham Castle, numerous cannon balls afterwards Archbishop of St. Andrews, flourishe have been found. Let us only think of the hos- about the beginning of the sixteenth century, ani tilo animus with which these were put into the was a native of this parish. He is said to have beci cannon which discharged them, and then how of the family of the Foremans of Hutton in the peaceably they have lain here, harmlessly buried Merse. The uncommon political talents, and tầe in the soil of that country against which they acute understanding which distinguished this pre were projected!

late, gained for him most powerful patronage.

He was a favourite of two successive Scottish great geological parties, the Huttonians and the monarchs, James III. and IV., two successive Wernerians—the facts it disclosed ultimately popes, Julius II. and Leo X., and of Louis XII. of yielding a complete triumph to the former. The France. By those high personages he was loaded way from Fountainhall to Millknow being long with honours and benefices. Though opposed by and devious, we engaged a certain John Craig, powerful competitors, he was elevated to the first a butcher in Ormiston, well acquainted with these See in Scotland. He was likewise employed as hills, to be our guide. He and his pony were the an ambassador from the Court of Scotland to that very prototypes of Dandie Dinmont and his of France. Historians have given opposite por- Dumple. Our very scientific friend, Mr. Scott of traits of his character, of the real features of Ormiston, went with us to assist in our investigawhich it is difficult to form an opinion. Of the tions, and Lord Hopetoun's gardener, Mr. Smith, family of this distinguished individual, the only now at Hopetoun House, was also of the party, trace that is left is a small field, which, as if in being desirous to gather from us the botanical mockery of mortal ambition, still retains the name names of a number of plants which were strange of “Foreman's Land.” Mr. Philip Redpath, to him. Starting at midnight, and arriving at the author of the “Border History," was minister Millknow in the morning, we occupied the whole day of the parish here ; and we must not omit to notice on the banks and in the bed of the river, we and Mr. another great man, though great in a different Scott being engaged in taking and comparing and sense—we mean Mr. Bookless, who was the naming the mineralogical specimens, whilst every parish schoolmaster, and whose stature was seven now and then Mr. Smith was coming to us with feet four inches. One of our companions in early a new plant, to obtain from us its scientific name. life had been placed under his tuition, and he As we were mounting our horses in the evening spoke of him as an amiable man of convivial to return home, and the gardener was assisthabits. He died whilst this gentleman was at ing honest John Craig to settle, and arrange a school with him, and so large was the coffin that couple of large game bags, full of minerals, upon contained his remains, that a portion of the wall his back, to which he submitted in silent patience, of the house was obliged to be broken up, so as for it must, in truth, have been but a dull day to to allow of its quitting the chamber, and it was him, seeing that he had wandered along the river lowered down by pulleys from the upper story to side without having the opportunity of opening the ground. There is something extremely whimsi- his mouth to any one of us, " Take care,” said Mr. cal in the notion of the name of Bookless belong. Smith, " that you do not lose any of these ing to a schoolmaster; but, from all we have heard, minerals. Keep them as steady on your back as he really was an educated man; and there can be you can, so that they may not chafe one against no question that, if he was a literary work, he the other, and see that you do not lose or break must have been considered by your book collec- any of those plants in this botanical box.” “Ou, tors as a splendidly tall copy.

never ye fear,” replied John, “ I'll tak' gude care A very handsome suspension bridge, executed o' them a'; but de’il hae me an’I ever heard sae by Captain Samuel Brown of the Royal Navy, mony kittle names gi’en to weeds and stanes as I here connects England with Scotland, and at have heard this blessed day.” some distance below, the Tweed receives the Whit- Mr. Chambers gives us some interesting inforadder as its tributary from the left bank. mation with regard to the antiquities of this part

The Whitadder, though perhaps not one of of the country. He informs us that there was the largest of the tributaries of the Tweed, is here a string of no less than six castles, all placed extremely important in many points of view. A at certain distances from each other, i, e. John's glauce at the map of Berwickshire will show that Cleugh, Gamelshiel, Painshiel, Redpath, Hareit and its subtributary, the Blackadder, and their head, and Cranshaws. These seem to have been various smaller streams of supply, water the intended as a cordon of defence to resist incurwhole country. Were we to go very particularly sions from the south into the Lothians ; and, into the description of the objects and places indeed, we shall find that all the warlike remains within a short distance of their waters, we should that we shall afterwards meet with in these hills, have to describe the whole of that rich agricul- hold positions which lead to the supposition that tural shire. We shall, however, endeavour to be they were placed there, though at very different peas particular as circumstances will admit of, and riods, yet all with the same object. Mr. Chambers we shall adopt the same order of description that is perfectly right in his supposition, that the whole we have used in giving our account of all the other of this district of hills was covered with wood in rivers, and according to this plan we shall begin the early ages, and filled with the wild animals of with the Whitadder at its source. Mr. Stoddart chase of all descriptions. He gives us a very intells us that the Whitadder takes its rise at teresting legend in regard to the lady of GamelJohnscleugh, in the county of Haddington, at an shiel Castle, the ruins of which stand near the farm elevation of eleven hundred and fifty feet above of Millknow, and this we shall take the liberty of the level of the sea. After running three miles, extracting in his own words. “ She was one evenit is joined by the Fasteney water at Millknow. ing taking a walk at a little distance below the In the days of our scientific furor we remember house, when a wolf sprung from the wood, and, in making an excursion hither to visit and examine the language of the simple peasants who tell the the bed of this Fasteney water, which was to a far-descended story, worried her. The husband certain extent a champ de bataille to the two buried her mangled corpse in the corner of the court-yard ; and ever after, till death sent him to received from a great battle having been fought rejoin her in another world, sat at his chamber here, as is proved by the numerous swords window, looking through his tears over her grave and other warlike instruments that have been _his soul as dark as the forest shades around him, dug up upon the spot. This is supposed to bave and his voice as mournful as their autumn music. been that battle which was fought between the This castle was one of a chain which guarded the Earl of Dunbar and Hepburn of Hailes, in 1tr pass between Dunse and Haddington ; a natural Some of the Lammermuir hills in the neighbearopening across the hills, formed by the course of hood of this part of the Whitadder are of costhe Whitadder, near the head of which stream it siderable elevation. Meikle Cese, or Sayr's Lan, was situated. Two tall, spiky, pillar-like remains is 1500 feet high ; and there is also a hill ealk. of the tower are yet to be seen by the travellers the Great Dirrington Law, 11+5 feet high. At passing along this unfrequented road, far up the Byrecleugh, on the Dye water, there is a carious dreary hope; and a flat stone, covering the grave accumulation of stones, called the “ Mutiny of the unfortunate lady, yet exists, to attest the Stones.” It measures 240 feet long, of irregular verity of a story so finely illustrative of the abo- breadth and height, but where broadest and riginal condition of this country.”

highest, seventy-five feet broad and eighten The Fasteney is a fine sparkling mountain feet high. The stones appear to have been stream, Soon after the union of the Fasteney brought from a crag half a mile distant. It is water with the Whitadder, it receives the small difficult to conjecture for what purpose they river Dye. In the adjacent parish of Cranshaws stones were thrown together. The river Whirstands the fine old Scottish mansion of Cran- adder becomes of some consequence when it af shaws Castle, now belonging to Lady Aberdour, proaches Abbey St. Bathans, its breadth being of which the “Statistical Account” speaks as fol- upwards of eighty feet, and it winds its way lows :—" It is an oblong square of forty feet by through beautiful haughs. It is melancholy te twenty-four. The walls are forty-five feet high. think that the interesting ruin of the priory a The battlement on the top is modern, otherwise Cistercian nuns which ornamented its left bars the date of the building might have been pretty has entirely disappeared, from the ignorance d' nearly ascertained, as the water conduits are in the people, who have carried off the materials te the form of cannon. Before the union of the two various purposes. There is a very excellent da kingdoms, it had been used by the inhabitants on scription of these ruins, including that of the this side of the parish as a place of refuge from the church, in the Statistical Account of the Parissi English borderers, as the old Castle of Scarlow of Abbey St. Bathans. (of which very little now remains) had probably Some of the scenery in this retired part of the been by the inhabitants of the other division.” Whitadder, although simple in its features, e This castle has been richly gifted by having the pears to be particularly beautiful. Along esci superstition attached to it of its being under the side of the river a fertile haugh stretches for op protection of a brownie, one of those rude but wards of a quarter of a mile, beyond which the benevolent spirits who laboured for the comfort hills that wall in the valley rise on all sides vid of the family to which it attached itself, which considerable steepness. The ground on the north Milton describes so well in these lines :

side of the vale rises abruptly from the haugă, “ Tells how the drudging goblin sweat

and presents a bank finely covered with natura To carn his cream bowl, duly set;

wood. The slope which forms the south side et When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,

the vale is cultivated to a considerable height, and His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn

portions of it are planted with larch and Sentet That ten day-lab’rers could not end ;

fir, intermingled with the elin, the oak, and the ask; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length,

but still rising higher as it recedes, at last presects Basks at the fire his hairy strength;

nothing but its natural covering of heath. At eari And crop-full out of doors he flings,

end of the valley, where it receives and transmis Ere the first cock his matin rings."

the Whitadder, there opens a beautiful dell from Our friend, Mr. Robert Chambers, tells us north-westward, with its appropriate brook. The ! that the brownie of Cranshaws was as industri- farm-house and steading of Abbey St. Bathans

, ous as could well be desired, insomuch that, at with its adjoining smithy, a neat cottage, a cortleast, the cornsman's office became a perfect sine- mill, the decent parish church, the mause

The brownie both inned the corn and which, topping a little eminence, is embosome threshed it, and that for several successive sea- among trees and the school-house, present a

It at length happened, one harvest, that group of simple but pleasing features. The isafter he had brought the whole victual into the terest awakened by these objects is, at the same barn, some one remarked that he had not mowed time, heightened by the natural scenery amidst it very well, that

not piled it up neatly at the which they occur. Let us conceive all this gloring end of the barn ; whereupon the spirit took such under the effect of a bright sunshine, the heater offence that he threw the whole of it next night which has driven the cattle from the meador inte over the Raven Craig, a precipice about two the pools of the river, whilst the perfect stillness miles off

, and the people of the farm had almost of the lassitude of nature reigns. over everything, the trouble of a second harvest in gathering it up. and when even the angler finds his occupation too

The highest land in this neighbourhood is great an exertion, and we shall have a picture which called Manslaughter-Law, a name which it has it might have delighted Cuyp to have painted.







(Continued from page 765.) Such is Phil.'s way of explaining LOTUSUSTI* 1. All writing inspired by God (i. e., being in(theopneustia), or divine prompting, so as to re- spired by God, supposing it inspired, which coneile the doctrine affirming a virtual inspira- makes theopneustos part of the subject) is also tion, an inspiration as to the truths revealed, with profitable for teaching, &c. a peremptory denial of any inspiration at all, as 2. All writing is inspired by God, and profit. to the mere verbal vehicle of those revelations. He able, &c. (which makes theopneustos part of the is evidently as sincere in regard to the inspiration predicate.) which he upholds as in regard to that which lie de- Now, in this last way of construing the text, nies. Phil. is honest, and Phil. is able. Now comes which is the way adopted by our authorised vermy turn.

I rise to support my leader, and shall sion, one objection strikes everybody at a glance, attempt to wrench this notion of a verbal inspira- viz., that St. Paul could not possibly mean to say tion from the hands of its champions by a reductio of all writing, indiscriminately, that it was diad absurdum, viz., by showing the monstrous con- vinely inspired, this being so revoltingly opposed sequences to which it leads—which form of logic to the truth. It follows, therefore, that, on this Phil, also has employed briefly in the last para- way of interpolating the is, we must understand graph of last month's paper; but mine is different the Apostle to use the word graphé, writing, in a and more elaborate. Yet, first of all, let me restricted sense, not for writing generally, but frankly confess to the reader, that some people for sacred writing, or (as our English phrase allege a point-blank assertion by Scripture itself runs) Holy Writ;” upon which will arise three of its own verbal inspiration ; which assertion, if separate demurs—first, one already stated by it really had any existence, would summarily put Phil., viz., that, when graphé is used in this sense, down all cavils of human dialectics. That makes it is accompanied by the article; the phrase is it necessary to review this assertion. This famous either s yeaon, “ the writing,” or else (as in St. passage of Scripture, this locus classicus, or prero- Luke) éo ngapan, “the writings,” just as in English gative text, pleaded for the verbatim et literatim it is said, " the Scripture," or “the Scriptures.” inspiration of the Bible, is the following ; and I Secondly, that, according to the Greek usage, this will so exhibit its very words as that the reader, would not be the natural place for introducing the even if no Grecian, may understand the point in is. Thirdlywhich disarms the whole objection litigation. The passage is this : leru gecon 2003. from this text, howsoever construed—that, after "USTOS **s wpadogos, &c., taken from St. Paul (2 Tim. all, it leaves the dispute with the bibliolaters

Let us construe it literally, expressing wholly untouched. We also, the anti-bibliolaters, the Greek by Latin characters : Pasa graphé, say that all Scripture is inspired, though we may all written lore (or, every writing)—theopneustos, not therefore suppose the Apostle to be here inGod-breathed, or, God-prompted-kai, and (or, sisting on that doctrine. But no matter whether also)-ophelimos, serviceable-pros, towards, did he is or not, in relation to this dispute. Both askalian, doctrinal truth. Now this sentence, parties are contending for the inspiration—so far when thus rendered into English according to they are agreed ; the question between them the rigour of the Grecian letter, wants something arises upon quite another point, viz., as to the to complete its sense-it wants an is. There is a mode of that inspiration, whether incarnating its subject, as the logicians say, and there is a predi- golden light in the corruptibilities of perishing cate (or, something affirmed of that subject), but

syllables, or in the sanctities of indefeasible, there is no copula to connect them—we miss the word-transcending ideas. Now, upon that quesis.

This omission is common in Greek, but can- tion, the apostolic words, torture them how you not be allowed in English. The is must be sup- please, say nothing at all. plied ; but where must it be supplied ? That's

There is, then, no such dogma (or, to speak the very question, for there is a choice between Germanicè, no such macht-spruch) in behalf of two places; and, according to the choice, will the verbal inspiration as has been ascribed to St. word theopneustos become part of the subject, or Paul, and I pass to my own argument against it. part of the predicate ; which will make a world | This argument turns upon the self-confounding of difference. Let us try it both ways :

tendency of the common form ascribed to from

ysurtid, or divine inspiration. When translated * Oborniuotiz.”—I must point out to Phil. an oversight from its true and lofty sense of an inspirationof his as to this word at p. 45; he there deseribes the doc; brooding, with outstretched wings, over the mighty inspiration. But this he cannot mean, fur obviously this abyss of secret truth-to the vulgar sense of an word theopneuslia comprebends equally the verbal in inspiration, burrowing, like a rabbit or a worm, spiration which he is denouncing, and the inspiration of in grammatical quillets and syllables, mark how power or spiritual virtue which he is substituting. Neither it comes down to nothing at all; mark how a jacting theopneustia, but as rejecting that particular mode stream, pretending to derive itself from a heavenly of theo pneustia which appeals to the eye by, mouldering fountain, is finally lost and confounded in a mosymbols, in favour of that other mode wbich appeals to the heart by incorruptible radiations of iuuer truth, rass of human perplexities.

iii. 16.)

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