a　difficult　thing　to　find　good　methods　for！We　shall　begin　to　have　a　chance　of　understanding　Paganism；　when　we　first　admit　that　to　its　followers　it　was；　at　one　time；　earnestly　true。　　Let　us　consider　it　very　certain　that　men　did　believe　in　Paganism；　men　with　open　eyes；　sound　senses；　men　made　altogether　like　ourselves；　that　we；　had　we　been　there；　should　have　believed　in　it。　　Ask　now；　What　Paganism　could　have　been？
  Another　theory；　somewhat　more　respectable；　attributes　such　things　to　Allegory。　　It　was　a　play　of　poetic　minds；　say　these　theorists；　a　shadowing　forth；　in　allegorical　fable；　in　personification　and　visual　form；　of　what　such　poetic　minds　had　known　and　felt　of　this　Universe。　　Which　agrees；　add　they；　with　a　primary　law　of　human　nature；　still　everywhere　observably　at　work；　though　in　less　important　things；　That　what　a　man　feels　intensely；　he　struggles　to　speak　out　of　him；　to　see　represented　before　him　in　visual　shape；　and　as　if　with　a　kind　of　life　and　historical　reality　in　it。　　Now　doubtless　there　is　such　a　law；　and　it　is　one　of　the　deepest　in　human　nature；　neither　need　we　doubt　that　it　did　operate　fundamentally　in　this　business。　　The　hypothesis　which　ascribes　Paganism　wholly　or　mostly　to　this　agency；　I　call　a　little　more　respectable；　but　I　cannot　yet　call　it　the　true　hypothesis。　　Think；　would　_we_　believe；　and　take　with　us　as　our　life…guidance；　an　allegory；　a　poetic　sport？　　Not　sport　but　earnest　is　what　we　should　require。　　It　is　a　most　earnest　thing　to　be　alive　in　this　world；　to　die　is　not　sport　for　a　man。　　Man's　life　never　was　a　sport　to　him；　it　was　a　stern　reality；　altogether　a　serious　matter　to　be　alive！
  I　find；　therefore；　that　though　these　Allegory　theorists　are　on　the　way　towards　truth　in　this　matter；　they　have　not　reached　it　either。　　Pagan　Religion　is　indeed　an　Allegory；　a　Symbol　of　what　men　felt　and　knew　about　the　Universe；　and　all　Religions　are　symbols　of　that；　altering　always　as　that　alters：　　but　it　seems　to　me　a　radical　perversion；　and　even　inversion；　of　the　business；　to　put　that　forward　as　the　origin　and　moving　cause；　when　it　was　rather　the　result　and　termination。　　To　get　beautiful　allegories；　a　perfect　poetic　symbol；　was　not　the　want　of　men；　but　to　know　what　they　were　to　believe　about　this　Universe；　what　course　they　were　to　steer　in　it；　what；　in　this　mysterious　Life　of　theirs；　they　had　to　hope　and　to　fear；　to　do　and　to　forbear　doing。　　The　_Pilgrim's　Progress_　is　an　Allegory；　and　a　beautiful；　just　and　serious　one：　　but　consider　whether　Bunyan's　Allegory　could　have　_preceded_　the　Faith　it　symbolizes！　　The　Faith　had　to　be　already　there；　standing　believed　by　everybody；of　which　the　Allegory　could　_then_　become　a　shadow；　and；　with　all　its　seriousness；　we　may　say　a　_sportful_　shadow；　a　mere　play　of　the　Fancy；　in　comparison　with　that　awful　Fact　and　scientific　certainty　which　it　poetically　strives　to　emblem。　　The　Allegory　is　the　product　of　the　certainty；　not　the　producer　of　it；　not　in　Bunyan's　nor　in　any　other　case。　　For　Paganism；　therefore；　we　have　still　to　inquire；　Whence　came　that　scientific　certainty；　the　parent　of　such　a　bewildered　heap　of　allegories；　errors　and　confusions？　　How　was　it；　what　was　it？
  Surely　it　were　a　foolish　attempt　to　pretend　〃explaining；〃　in　this　place；　or　in　any　place；　such　a　phenomenon　as　that　far…distant　distracted　cloudy　imbroglio　of　Paganism；more　like　a　cloud…field　than　a　distant　continent　of　firm　land　and　facts！　　It　is　no　longer　a　reality；　yet　it　was　one。　　We　ought　to　understand　that　this　seeming　cloud…field　was　once　a　reality；　that　not　poetic　allegory；　least　of　all　that　dupery　and　deception　was　the　origin　of　it。　　Men；　I　say；　never　did　believe　idle　songs；　never　risked　their　soul's　life　on　allegories：　　men　in　all　times；　especially　in　early　earnest　times；　have　had　an　instinct　for　detecting　quacks；　for　detesting　quacks。　　Let　us　try　if；　leaving　out　both　the　quack　theory　and　the　allegory　one；　and　listening　with　affectionate　attention　to　that　far…off　confused　rumor　of　the　Pagan　ages；　we　cannot　ascertain　so　much　as　this　at　least；　That　there　was　a　kind　of　fact　at　the　heart　of　them；　that　they　too　were　not　mendacious　and　distracted；　but　in　their　own　poor　way　true　and　sane！
  You　remember　that　fancy　of　Plato's；　of　a　man　who　had　grown　to　maturity　in　some　dark　distance；　and　was　brought　on　a　sudden　into　the　upper　air　to　see　the　sun　rise。　　What　would　his　wonder　be；　his　rapt　astonishment　at　the　sight　we　daily　witness　with　indifference！　　With　the　free　open　sense　of　a　child；　yet　with　the　ripe　faculty　of　a　man；　his　whole　heart　would　be　kindled　by　that　sight；　he　would　discern　it　well　to　be　Godlike；　his　soul　would　fall　down　in　worship　before　it。　　Now；　just　such　a　childlike　greatness　was　in　the　primitive　nations。　　The　first　Pagan　Thinker　among　rude　men；　the　first　man　that　began　to　think；　was　precisely　this　child…man　of　Plato's。　　Simple；　open　as　a　child；　yet　with　the　depth　and　strength　of　a　man。　　Nature　had　as　yet　no　name　to　him；　he　had　not　yet　united　under　a　name　the　infinite　variety　of　sights；　sounds；　shapes　and　motions；　which　we　now　collectively　name　Universe；　Nature；　or　the　like；and　so　with　a　name　dismiss　it　from　us。　　To　the　wild　deep…hearted　man　all　was　yet　new；　not　veiled　under　names　or　formulas；　it　stood　naked；　flashing　in　on　him　there；　beautiful；　awful；　unspeakable。　　Nature　was　to　this　man；　what　to　the　Thinker　and　Prophet　it　forever　is；　preternatural。　　This　green　flowery　rock…built　earth；　the　trees；　the　mountains；　rivers；　many…sounding　seas；that　great　deep　sea　of　azure　that　swims　overhead；　the　winds　sweeping　through　it；　the　black　cloud　fashioning　itself　together；　now　pouring　out　fire；　now　hail　and　rain；　what　_is_　it？　　Ay；　what？　　At　bottom　we　do　not　yet　know；　we　can　never　know　at　all。　　It　is　not　by　our　superior　insight　that　we　escape　the　difficulty；　it　is　by　our　superior　levity；　our　inattention；　our　_want_　of　insight。　　It　is　by　_not_　thinking　that　we　cease　to　wonder　at　it。　　Hardened　round　us；　encasing　wholly　every　notion　we　form；　is　a　wrappage　of　traditions；　hearsays；　mere　_words_。　　We　call　that　fire　of　the　black　thunder…cloud　〃electricity；〃　and　lecture　learnedly　about　it；　and　grind　the　like　of　it　out　of　glass　and　silk：　　but　_what_　is　it？　　What　made　it？　　Whence　comes　it？　Whither　goes　it？　　Science　has　done　much　for　us；　but　it　is　a　poor　science　that　would　hide　from　us　the　great　deep　sacred　infinitude　of　Nescience；　whither　we　can　never　penetrate；　on　which　all　science　swims　as　a　mere　superficial　film。　　This　world；　after　all　our　science　and　sciences；　is　still　a　miracle；　wonderful；　inscrutable；　_magical_　and　more；　to　whosoever　will　_think_　of　it。
  That　great　mystery　of　TIME；　were　there　no　other；　the　illimitable；　silent；　never…resting　thing　called　Time；　rolling；　rushing　on；　swift；　silent；　like　an　all…embracing　ocean…tide；　on　which　we　and　all　the　Universe　swim　like　exhalations；　like　apparitions　which　are；　and　then　are　_not_：　　this　is　forever　very　literally　a　miracle；　a　thing　to　strike　us　dumb；for　we　have　no　word　to　speak　about　it。　　This　Universe；　ah　mewhat　could　the　wild　man　know　of　it；　what　can　we　yet　know？　　That　it　is　a　Force；　and　thousand…fold　Complexity　of　Forces；　a　Force　which　is　_not_　we。　　That　is　all；　it　is　not　we；　it　is　altogether　different　from　us。　　Force；　Force；　everywhere　Force；　we　ourselves　a　mysterious　Force　in　the　centre　of　that。　　〃There　is　not　a　leaf　rotting　on　the　highway　but　has　Force　in　it；　how　else　could　it　rot？〃　　Nay　surely；　to　the　Atheistic　Thinker；　if　such　a　one　were　possible；　it　must　be　a　miracle　too；　this　huge　illimitable　whirlwind　of　Force；　which　envelops　us　here；　never…resting　whirlwind；　high　as　Immensity；　old　as　Eternity。　　What　is　it？　　God's　Creation；　the　religious　people　answer；　it　is　the　Almighty　God's！　Atheistic　science　babbles　poorly　of　it；　with　scientific　nomenclatures；　experiments　and　what　not；　as　if　it　were　a　poor　dead　thing；　to　be　bottled　up　in　Leyden　jars　and　sold　over　counters：　　but　the　natural　sense　of　man；　in　all　times；　if　he　will　honestly　apply　his　sense；　proclaims　it　to　be　a　living　thing；ah；　an　unspeakable；　godlike　thing；　towards　which　the　best　attitude　for　us；　after　never　so　much　science；　is　awe；　devout　prostration　and　humility　of　soul；　worship　if　not　in　words；　then　in　silence。
  But　now　I　remark　farther：　　What　in　such　a　time　as　ours　it　requires　a　Prophet　or　Poet　to　teach　us；　namely；　the　stripping…off　of　those　poor　undevout　wrappages；　nomenclatures　and　scientific　hearsays；this；　the　ancient　earnest　soul；　as　yet　unencumbered　with　these　things；　did　for　itself。　　The　world；　which　is　now　divine　only　to　the　gifted；　was　then　divine　to　whosoever　would　turn　his　eye　upon　it。　　He　stood　bare　before　it　face　to　face。　　〃All　was　Godlike　or　God：〃Jean　Paul　still　finds　it　so；　the　giant　Jean　Paul；　who　has　power　to　escape　out　of　hearsays：　　but　there　then　were　no　hearsays。　　Canopus　shining　down　over　the　desert；　with　its　blue　diamond　brightness　（that　wild　blue　spirit…like　brightness；　far　brighter　than　we　ever　witness　here）；　would　pierce　into　the　heart　of　the　wild　Ishmaelitish　man；　whom　it　was　guiding　through　the　solitary　waste　there。　　To　his　wild　heart；　with　all　feelings　in　it；　with　no　_speech_　for　any　feeling；　it　might　seem　a　little　eye；　that　Canopus；　glancing　out　on　him　from　the　great　deep　Eternity；　revealing　the　inner　Splendor　to　him。　　Cannot　we　understand　how　these　men　_worshipped_　Canopus；　b