This prescription would be found to liberate the mind from all kinds
of cloudy vapours which obscure the mental vision and conceal from men
their real position, and would also set free a great deal of time
which might be profitably spent in quite other directions.

The first of the two exceptions I have alluded to is of those who
possess--whether honestly come by or not we cannot stop to inquire--
strong convictions upon these very questions. These convictions they
must be allowed to iterate and reiterate, and to proclaim that in them
is to be found the secret of all this (otherwise) unintelligible
world.

The second exception is of those who pursue Truth as by a divine
compulsion, and who can be likened only to the nympholepts of old;
those unfortunates who, whilst carelessly strolling amidst sylvan
shades, caught a hasty glimpse of the flowing robes or even of the
gracious countenance of some spiritual inmate of the woods, in whose
pursuit their whole lives were ever afterwards fruitlessly spent.

The nympholepts of Truth are profoundly interesting figures in the
world's history, but their lives are melancholy reading, and seldom
fail to raise a crop of gloomy thoughts. Their finely touched spirits
are not indeed liable to succumb to the ordinary temptations of life,
and they thus escape the evils which usually follow in the wake of
speculation; but what is their labour's reward?

Readers of Dr. Newman will remember, and will thank me for recalling
it to mind, an exquisite passage, too long to be quoted, in which,
speaking as a Catholic to his late Anglican associates, he reminds
them how he once participated in their pleasures and shared their