Neville's account of being brushed off by a great man, and what he refuses to conclude from it. He was introduced to Walter Damrosch - at a club that met the first Monday of the month, the Harvard Club in the tellings of it, once given as the Bohemian Club - as one of the world's great metaphysicians. Damrosch asked him what his school was: Germanic? French? Russian? English? He answered that it was none of these, that it was his own visions and came by revelation, and had nothing to do with any orthodox concept of the metaphysical world. The old gentleman took one look at him, thought himself in the presence of madness, and walked away; and Neville's comment is that had he named any school at all, Damrosch would have loved it. He sets Paul beside himself for the same claim - I did not receive it from a man, neither was I taught it, but it came through revelation - and points out that Damrosch would have turned from Paul too. The principle it illustrates recurs without the anecdote: he would tell the story to anyone in the world, and if he stood before the pope, the archbishop of Canterbury and the head rabbi of the world they might smile and turn their backs, and that is perfectly all right - he would not think them wrong, because they have not had the experience. He would tell them, but he would not argue: these are pearls, and he would not cast them, nor persuade anyone against their will.