asgow, by invitation of the Senate, I
was accused first before the presbytery at Glasgow, and when this attempt
failed, the charge was carried before the great Synod at Edinburgh. In
this case, too, I went on my way, in silence, and in the end, even in
Scotland, the old saying, "Much cry and little wool," was verified. This
proverb is frequently heard in England. I have often inquired into its
origin. Finally I found that there is a second line, "As the deil said
when he shore the sow." Of course such an operation was accompanied with
much noise on the part of the sow, but little wool, nothing but bristles.
I have never, however, had to turn my bristles against the gentlemen who
wished to shear me.

I am of opinion, therefore, that those who wished to espouse the cause of
my Horseherd should have done so publicly and with open visor. As soon as
any one feels that he has found the truth, he knows also that what is real
and true can never be killed or silenced; and secondly, that truth in the
world has its purpose, and this purpose must in the end be a good one. We
do not complain about thunder and lightning, but accustom ourselves to
them, and seek to understand them, so as to live on good terms with them;
and we finally invent lightning conductors, to protect ourselves, as far
as we can, against the inevitable. So it is with every new truth, if it is
only maintained with courage. At first we cry and clamour that it is
false, that it is dangerous. In the end we shake our wise heads and say
these are old matters known long since, of which only old women were
afraid. In the end, after the thunder and lightning, the air is made
clearer, fresher, and more wholesome. When I first read the long letter of
my Horseherd, I said to myself, "He is a man who has done the best he
could in his position." He has let himself be taught, but also
irresistibly influenced, by certain popular books, and has come to think
that the abandonment of views that have been instilled into him from his
youth is so brave and meritorious, that all who disagree with him must be
cowards. This inculcation of truth into childish minds is always a
dangerous matter, and even if I do not use the strong expressions that are
used by my friend,--for I always think, the stronger the expression the
weaker the argument,--I must admit that he is right up to a certain point.
It does not seem fair that in the decision of the most important questions
of life the young mi