from design; firstly, that a Deity exists;
and, secondly, that He possesses attributes more or less allied to those
of human intelligence. But, at this embryonic stage of theology, Hume's
progress is arrested; and, after a survey of the development of dogma,
his "general corollary" is, that--

"The whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery. Doubt,
uncertainty, suspense of judgment, appear the only result of our
most accurate scrutiny concerning this subject. But such is the
frailty of human reason, and such the irresistible contagion of
opinion, that even this deliberate doubt could scarcely be upheld;
did we not enlarge our view, and opposing one species of
superstition to another, set them a quarrelling; while we
ourselves, during their fury and contention, happily make our
escape into the calm, though obscure, regions of philosophy."--(IV.
p. 513.)

Thus it may be fairly presumed that Hume expresses his own sentiments in
the words of the speech with which Philo concludes the _Dialogues_.

"If the whole of natural theology, as some people seem to maintain,
resolves itself into one simple, though somewhat ambiguous, at
least undefined proposition, _That the cause or causes of order in
the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human
intelligence_: If this proposition be not capable of extension,
variation, or more particular explication: If it affords no
inference that affects human life or can be the source of any
action or forbearance: And if the analogy, imperfect as it is, can
be carried no further than to the human intelligence, and cannot be
transferred, with any appearance of probability, to the other
qualities of the mind; if this really be the case, what can the
most inquisitive, contemplative, and religious man do more than
give a plain, philosophical assent to the proposition, as often as
it occurs, and believe that the arguments on which it is
established exceed the objections which lie against it? Some
astonishment indeed will naturally arise from the greatness of the
object; some melancholy from its obscurity; some contempt of human
reason, that it can give no solution more satisfactory with regard
to so extraordinary and magnificent a question. But believe me,
Cleanthes, the most natural sentiment which a well-disposed mind
will