Motalleb hereupon fell into a long dissertation, involving various nice distinctions between wilful and involuntary errors of opinion, owing, in a great measure, sometimes to the influence of early education, habits and example; sometimes to the seduction of the passions, and at others to the weakness or perverseness of the understanding. When he thought he had made the subject quite clear to the comprehension of his pupil, the latter, after reflecting a few moments, asked him how he could distinguish those opinions which were adopted through the influence of education, passion, habit and example, from those derived from the convictions of pure impartial reason. “That is impossible,” said Motalleb; “Allah alone can see into the human heart, and detect the secret springs by which it is directed.” “It seems to me, then,” said the youth, doubtingly, “that to Allah alone should be left the punishment of errors of opinion, since none other can know whether they are wilful or involuntary. But,” continued he, after another pause of deep reflection, “surely there must be some standard of truth, equally invariable and universal, to which mankind may appeal, instead of sacrificing each other, as this poor man is about to be, for a difference of opinion.” “Thou art right, my son, there is such a standard. Thou shalt study the Koran, for that is the fountain of truth, the only exposition of the wisdom of Allah himself.” Motalleb placed the Koran in the hands of his pupil, who studied it with equal ardor and intelligence, the dervise having, by his repeated exhortations, inspired him with a fervent admiration of truth, as well as a longing desire to obtain its possession. But there were many portions of the book which neither corresponded with the evidence of his senses nor the dictates of his reason. When he read that the Prophet had, according to his own assertions, ascended to the seventh heaven in company with the angel Gabriel, on the back of a white camel, and advanced alone so near the throne of the Almighty as to be touched on the shoulder by his hand; and that he had, in less than the tenth part of a single night, thus performed a journey of at least a thousand years—these and other miraculous tales confounded his understanding, and contradicted not only the lessons of past experience, but the evidences of his senses. He tried to believe, but found it impossible; and when his preceptor, after allowing him sufficient time to study the great work of the Prophet, asked him whether he had not at length drank at the pure fountain of truth, he frankly expressed his doubts as to the miraculous journey. The dervise stroked his long beard, and frowned indignantly. “What!” cried he, “dost thou disbelieve the revelations of the Prophet himself?” “I am compelled to do so,” replied Musa, “since they neither accord with the evidence of my senses nor are confirmed by the assent of my reason.”