We have before us an unknown machine, on which certain observations have been made.

Ignorant people who have only examined a single wheel of it, of which they hardly know more than a tooth or two, form conjectures upon the way in which their cogs fit in with a hundred thousand other wheels.
And then to finish like artisans, they label the work with the name of it's author." The defender justifies this by the argument from a repeater-watch, of which Paley and others have made so much use.

We at once ascribe the structure and movement of a repeater-watch to intelligent creation.
"No--things are not equal," says the atheist.

"You are comparing a finished work, whose origin and manufacture we know, to an infinite piece of complexity, whose beginnings, whose present condition, and whose end are all alike unknown, and about whose author you have nothing better than guesses." But does not its structure announce an author?
"No; you do not see who nor what he is.

Who told you that the order you admire here belies itself nowhere else?
Are you allowed to conclude from a point in space to infinite space?
You pile a vast piece of ground with earth-heaps thrown here or there by chance, but among which the worm and the ant find convenient dwelling-places enough.