Some such scene, displaying the devil's malice, slandering sneers, and
permitted power, recommends itself to my mind as antecedently to have
been looked for: in order that we might know from what quarter many of
life's evils come; with what aims and ends they are directed; what
limits are opposed to our foe; and Who is on our side. We needed some
such insight into the heavenly places; some such hint of what is
continually going on before the Lord's tribunal; we wanted this plain
and simple setting forth of good and evil in personal encounter, of
innocence awhile given up to malice for its chastening and its triumph.
Lo, all this so probable scene is here laid open to us, and many,
against reason, disbelieve it!

Note, in allusion to our after-theme, the _locus_ of heaven, that there
is some such usual place of periodical gathering. Note, the open
unchiding loveliness dwelling in the Good One's words, as contrasted
with the subtle, slanderous hatred of the Evil. And then the vulgar
proverb, Skin for skin: this pious Job is so intensely selfish, that let
him lose what he may, he heeds it not; he cares for nothing out of his
own skin. And there are many more such notabilities.

Why did I produce these passages at length? For their Doric simplicity;
for their plain and masculine features; for their obvious truthfulness;
for their manifest probability as to fact, and expectability previously
to it. Why on earth should they be doubted in their literal sense? and
were they not more likely to have happened than to have been invented?
We have no such geniuses now as this writer must have been, who by the
pure force of imagination could have created that tableau. Milton had
Job to go to. Simplicity is proof presumptive in favour of the plain
inspiration of such passages: for the plastic mind which could conceive
so just a sketch, would never have rested satisfied, without having