But the peculiar talent of the _Belle Lumiere des Pasteurs_ was for cabalistic researches concerning numbers, or what he calls _L'Harmonie du Temps_. Numbers, he held, (and every generation, every family, every individual was marked with one,) were not the causes of what came to pass, but they were marks or impresses which God set upon his works, distinguishing them by the difference of these their cyphers. And he laid it down as a rule that in doubtful points of computation, the one wherein some mystery could be discovered was always to be preferred. QUOY?—(think how triumphantly his mouth opened and his nose was erected and his nostrils were dilated, when he pronounced that interrogation)—QUOY? _la varieté de nos opinions qui provient d'imperfection, aneantira-t-elle les merveilles de Dieu?_ In the course of his Scriptural computations he discovered that when the Sun stood still at the command of Joshua, it was precisely 2555 years after the Creation, that is seven years of years, a solar week, after which it had been preordained that the Sun should thus have its sabbath of rest: _Ceci n'est il pas admirable?_ It was on the tenth year of the tenth year of the years that the Sun went back ten degrees, which was done to show the chronology: _ou est le stupide qui ne soit ravi en admiration d'une si celeste harmonie?_ With equal sagacity and equal triumph he discovered how the generations from Adam to Christ went by twenty-twos; and the generations of Christ by sevens, being 77 in all, and that from the time the promise of the Seed was given till its fulfilment there elapsed a week of years, seven times seventy years, seventy weeks of years, and seven times seventy weeks of years by which beautiful geometry, if he might be permitted to use so inadequate a term, the fullness of time was made up. What wonderful significations also hath Mr. Bellamy in his kindred pursuits discovered and darkly pointed out! Doth he not tell us of seven steps, seven days, seven priests, seven rams, seven bullocks, seven trumpets, seven shepherds, seven stars, seven spirits, seven eyes, seven lamps, seven pipes, seven heads, four wings, four beasts, four kings, four kingdoms, four carpenters; the number three he has left unimproved,—but for two,— which number Nature framed In the most useful faculties of man, To strengthen mutually and relieve each other, Two eyes, two ears, two arms, two legs and feet, That where one failed the other might supply, for this number Mr. Bellamy has two cherubims, two calves, two turtles, two birds alive, two [1], two baskets of figs, two olive trees, two women grinding, two men in the fields, two woes, two witnesses, two candlesticks; and when he descends to the unit, he tells us of one tree, one heart, one stick, one fold, one pearl,—to which we must add one Mr. John Bellamy the Pearl of Commentators. [Footnote 1: The blank is in the MS.]