those secret virtues, which we admire in nature, without being
acquainted with them) shake and move the stones into a certain order
and in a sort of cadence, which might occasion some regularity in
the building. I own this explanation both shocks and clashes with
reason; but yet it is less extravagant than what I have supposed a
philosopher should say. What, indeed, can be more absurd, than to
imagine stones that hew themselves, that go out of the quarry, that
get one on the top of another, without leaving any empty space; that
carry with them mortar to cement one another; that place themselves
in different ranks for the contrivance of apartments; and who admit
on the top of all the timber-roof, with the tiles, in order to cover
the whole work? The very children, that cannot yet speak plain,
would laugh, if they were seriously told such a ridiculous story.


SECT. LXXIII. Comparison of the World with a Regular House. A
Continuation of the Answer to the Objection of the Epicureans.


But why should it appear less ridiculous to hear one say that the
world made itself, as well as that fabulous house? The question is
not to compare the world with a cave without form, which is supposed
to be made by chance: but to compare it with a house in which the
most perfect architecture should be conspicuous. For the structure
and frame of the least living creature is infinitely more artful and
admirable than the finest house that ever was built.

Suppose a traveller entering Saida, the country where the ancient
Thebes, with a hundred gates, stood formerly, and which is now a
desert, should find there columns, pyramids, obelisks, and