% '1 
 
LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINAR' 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 Presented by 
 
 BV 4460 .R42 1835 
 
 Real dialogues on the 
 evidences of Christianity 
 
•^••{ ^.0^^-^/^'^ 
 

REAL DIALOGUE^ 
 
 JAN 31 195 
 
 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 DEATH BED SCENES.' 
 
 BY A CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 
 
 PHEPARED FOR ABBOTT'S FLKE-SIDE SERIES. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY LEAVITT, LORD, & CO. 
 
 182 Broadway. 
 
 BOSTON:— CROCKER & BREWSTER, 
 4 7 Washington Street. 
 
 Is sTT 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by Lkavitt, 
 LOHD, & Co., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY F. F. EIPLEY. 
 
PREFACE BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR. 
 
 The following Dialogues upon the Evidences of Chris- 
 tianity, originally appeared in a much larger work, enti- 
 tled " Death-Bed Scenes," which has had a considerable 
 circulation in England. They are brought forward now 
 in this form, because they present, in a very lucid and 
 striking light, the argument for Christianity, and at the 
 same time exhibit very clearly, the origin, the nature, and 
 the tendencies of infidelity, in its various forms. Such a 
 work, adapted thus to popular use, seems peculiarly suited 
 to the exigencies of our country at the present time. It is 
 well adapted, not only to convince the doubting, but to 
 aid those already convinced in their conversations with 
 others. It furnishes materials which the Pastor, the 
 Sabbath School Teacher, and the Parent can employ to 
 great advantage, in the instruction of those committed to 
 their charge. 
 
 The author of the Dialogues asserts, that the scenes 
 to which he introduces the reader he actually witnessed, 
 and that the conversation recorded, actually took place. 
 He says, the elevation of style, " may at times create the 
 reasonable suspicion, that the whole recorded transaction 
 is illusory. Indeed, this suspicion will, at any rate, some- 
 times arise, because the tone will be now and then above 
 
iV PREFACE. 
 
 the tone of usual conversation ; and because ideas and 
 expressions will be ascribed to particular persons of which 
 those persons will be thought incapable. 
 
 " In point of fact, I am often in situations in which I 
 am led to preach, rather than to speak ; I am compelled, 
 that is, to speak continuously ; and then the magnitude 
 of the subject would naturally raise any man's language, 
 under the same circumstances, to a loftier standard. 
 With respect to others, I always preserve their ideas, and 
 sometimes their very words, when there is any thing 
 remarkable in them. But I have not been studious about 
 it, and especially in the conversations related to happen 
 between myself and people of low rank, I have discarded 
 almost all their vulgarisms ; and also I have put their 
 ideas into better shape and form, than they would have 
 done for themselves. For I did not consider this to be a 
 matter of any essential concern. Their meaning, and not 
 their actual expressions, is all that is absolutely necessary 
 to be known." 
 
 We think that no one can read the following pages, 
 without being interested and instructed. And at the pre- 
 sent time, when such vigorous efforts are made to under- 
 mine the Christian faith, it seems peculiarly desirable 
 that the evidences of revealed religion should be presented 
 in every form which can attract the reader. We have 
 found it necessary, in preparing these narratives for the 
 American press, to omit many passages, which could only 
 be interesting to English readers. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. The Real Objection to Christianity.. .9 
 The strangers. Character of a parishioner. The pew. 
 A few days at church. My first visit. ReUgious con- 
 versation. The chocolate party. Proper proof of Chris- 
 tianity. Laws of nature. Miracles. Reasoning in a circle. 
 Important distinction ; doctrines and precepts. Simple 
 view of the case. No other way of authenticating a mes- 
 sage from Heaven, but by miracles or by prophecy. 
 
 New difficulty. The insignificance of this earth. An- 
 swer. The Divine object in the creation of the world. 
 Close of the visit. 
 
 Patient solicitude. Apology. The proposed ride. Ques- 
 tions and answers. No desire for the truth. Approaching 
 the real difficulty. Dread of the truth of Christianity. A 
 wicked life and no repentance. Vain hope of annihilation. 
 
 CHAPTER n. The Main Argument 65 
 
 The ascent of the hill. Scenery. Discussion planned. 
 Sacrifices. Their origin. Repentance. An atonement 
 agreeable to the common sense of mankind. Jesus Christ 
 1* 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 not merely a martyr. Texts. Figurative language. No 
 human ransom possible. End of the ride. 
 
 Another visit. A new acquaintance. The introduction. 
 Flippancy. The prophecies examined. High authority in 
 their favor. Sir Isaac Newton. Intelligibleness of the 
 prophets. State of the discussion. Porphyry and his 
 theory. Various ancient testimonies. 
 
 The collation. The kind of evidence demanded by the 
 infidel. Apparitions from the dead would not convince. 
 Full examination of this subject. The laugh turned. A 
 retreat. 
 
 Paralysis. Scene in the sick chamber. Design of af- 
 fliction. Licentiousness ; its guilt and sorrow. Remorse. 
 Penitence. A mediator needed. The Scripture scheme of 
 a mediator between God and man. Administration of the 
 sacrament. Penitence and confession. 
 
 Another visit. Peace and comfort. The last hour. 
 
 CHAPTER in. The Spirit of Infidelity 183 
 
 The application. The sick man's character. Scene in 
 the cottage. Pecuniary relief. The sick man's ground of 
 hope. The true standard. All men sinners. Repentance 
 no atonement for sin. 
 
 Second visit. Melancholy scene. Objections to Chris- 
 tianity. Its recentness. Its partial extent. These objec- 
 tions examined. Miracles. Presumptions in their favor. 
 Nature of the Christian miracles. 
 
 Third visit. The doctrine of the mediator. Need of a 
 savior and mediator between God and man. A little com- 
 fort in the last hour. 
 
CONTENTS. Vn 
 
 CHAPTER IV. The End of Infidelity 232 
 
 The rainy day. A visitor. Discussion about the tithes. 
 Adjustment. First payment. The receipt. The infidel's 
 wishes about death. The beautiful apple tree. The sap. 
 Pistils and stamens. Proofs of contrivance. 
 
 A new meeting. Objection to the doctrine of a creator. 
 The nettles. Examination of them. Their use. Account 
 of the creation. Third interview. Resurrection of the 
 body. The field of grain. 
 
 A walk through the parish. The news. The infidel's 
 vices. His end. The funeral. Lesson to be learned. 
 
REAL DIALOGUES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 Having observed a gentleman and lady at 
 church two or three Sundays in succession, both 
 morning and afternoon, sitting sometimes in one 
 pew and sometimes in another, as the pew-openers 
 were able to accommodate them, I inquired who 
 they were, and found that they were the friends 
 and visitors, of their brother, a gentleman who 
 had a handsome villa in my parish. This informa- 
 tion, and the appearance of the strangers them- 
 selves, together with the regularity of their attend- 
 ance at church, suggested a hope to me, that 
 through their means I might become acquainted 
 with my wealthy parishioner, who had hitherto 
 shunned all my advances, and kept aloof from any 
 sort of acquaintance with me, from the conscious- 
 ness of his own profligacy, and the total absence of 
 all desire to chanofe his mode of life and character. 
 
10 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 Whilst I was deliberating upon this subject, 
 the strangers, whose names were Mr. and Mrs. 
 Harrison, came together to the Rectory; and, 
 after the first salutations were over, Mr. Harrison 
 having stated his wish to have some private con- 
 versation with me, I retired with him into the 
 Shrubbery ; and here he opened to me at large the 
 lamentable case of his brother-in-law. He was a 
 man of considerable fortune, who had held an 
 office under the government. Unmarried him- 
 self, he had lived chiefly w4th unmarried men, and 
 without any restraint as to manners and conver- 
 sation. He condemned the Christian religion, be- 
 cause it condemned him, and because he knew no- 
 thing of it but the objections against it. To himself 
 and his companions it was the theme of many a 
 scoff, and since he had been in my parish he had 
 never joined in any of its sacred rites. He could 
 not, indeed, w^ell have done so without a terrible 
 disturbance of his opinions and practices. But 
 he had no wish even to set an example of going 
 to church ; and thus, there being nothing to bring 
 him there, and much to keep him away, it seemed 
 likely, without some special interference of Pro- 
 vidence, that he might have gone on uninterrupt- 
 edly in the broad way to destruction. 
 
 However, a grievous sickness surprised him in 
 the midst of his career, when he appeared to 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 11 
 
 have health, and strength, and length of days be- 
 fore him. In an instant he lost the use of all his 
 lower limbs. He was stretched, as he supposed, 
 on the bed of death. There was no creature 
 about him that had any affection for him. He 
 reflected, and he was humbled. He longed for 
 the tender care and consolations of his sister ; he 
 adapted his family to her reception, and she came 
 to him, together with her husband, with all the 
 speed in their power. After their arrival he 
 seemed to mend, and could move about on crutches. 
 Nor had he turned a deaf ear to their gentle 
 insinuations about religion ; but, on the contrary, 
 in consequence of what they had said to him of 
 my preaching, he had expressed a desire of coming- 
 to church, if a pew could be found for him, suitable 
 to his present circumstances. And this, therefore, 
 was the inquiry which Mr. Harrison had now 
 visited me to make. 
 
 Fortunately I was able to do them this service. 
 There was a pew near one of the doors, on the 
 ground-floor, the usual occupiers of which were 
 absent. I made arrangements for having it as- 
 signed to them, and on the following Sunday 
 morning, to my great satisfaction, I saw the sick 
 man in it. His carriage had brought him to the 
 church-gates, and from thence, with the help of a 
 servant and his crutches, he had hobbled to his 
 
12 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 seat. This he did two or three times, but the fa- 
 tigue of it was so very severe, that, after such a 
 trial, he was compelled to relinquish any further 
 attempt. What had been the effect upon his 
 mind, I could not precisely ascertain. It seemed, 
 from his sister's account, that he had been struck 
 with the appearance of a full church, and of so 
 much earnestness and devotion in the congrega- 
 tion, and he had thought, perhaps, within himself, 
 that there might be more truth in the matter than 
 he was yet aware of; for why should so many 
 people be mistaken, and he only and his compan- 
 ions in the right? The clergyman, indeed, had 
 been educated for the purpose, and might be said 
 to depend for his maintenance upon the upholding 
 of the Christian religion ; but this suspicion attach- 
 ed scarcely to any body else. However, mere 
 custom, and habit, and early prepossession, would 
 account for a great deal ; they were so brought 
 up, and now they continued in it without reasoning 
 about it at all. In short, as Mrs. Harrison thought, 
 her brother was at this time a confirmed sceptic, 
 and she was extremely anxious that I should see 
 him and talk to him. 
 
 I was quite ready ; so I called, under the pre- 
 tence of returning Mr. Harrison's visits, and also 
 of asking the patient himself how he was, after his 
 painful exertions to attend church. I was taken 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 13 
 
 at once into the room where he happened to be, 
 and where Mr. and Mrs. Harrison were sitting 
 with him. At first he appeared a little flurried, 
 and my appearance seemed to be both unexpected 
 and disagreeable to him ; but by degrees we fell 
 into conversation, and every token of unpleasant 
 feeling entirely vanished. 
 
 Gradually, the conversation was turned to re- 
 ligious subjects, and Mr. Compton, for that was 
 his name, commenced an attack upon some of the 
 distinguishing doctrines of the gospel. But he 
 found his ignorance exposed, and his attempts at 
 ridicule foiled. At last he shrugged up his should- 
 ers and exclaimed, 
 
 " Ah ! Sir, the difficulties thicken upon us so 
 fast, that I shall soon be lost in the multitude and 
 the intricacy of them. I cannot presume. Dr. 
 Warton, to occupy so much of your valuable time." 
 
 This was a civil mode of wishing me good 
 morning. But I was very unwilling that the con- 
 ference should end exactly so, and determined to 
 attempt at least to make an opening for a future 
 conversation ; so I said, " Oh ! pray. Sir, do not 
 spare me, by any means. My time is only valua- 
 ble whilst it is thus and similarly employed. Be- 
 sides, it may be well for yourself, in the present 
 precarious state of your health, to have these re- 
 ligious difficulties cleared away, if it can be done ; 
 2 
 
14 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 and I do not know to whom the duty so properly 
 belongs as to we." 
 
 He was silent, and seemed unable to determine 
 what course to take. Upon which Mrs. Harrison, 
 interposed, and said, " Dear brother, as Dr. War- 
 ton is so kind, we will continue the discussion to- 
 morrow, when I hope you will be a little stronger. 
 I speak for myself too, for I have profited already, 
 and I am sure I shall profit more by what I fore- 
 see is to come. It is impossible for any of us to 
 be the worse for it." 
 
 This judicious speech settled his wavering 
 thoughts ; so he said hastily, but pleasantly, 
 " Then we will give you chocolate to-morrow. Dr. 
 Warton, at one o'clock." Upon this I bowed, 
 and departed. 
 
 The next day I went according to the appoint- 
 ment. He was on the sofa as before ; but I learnt 
 from his sister, that he had passed a bad night, 
 and that it was with some difficulty they had got 
 him up, and prepared him for my reception. 
 However, as he was alarmed about himself, I ex- 
 pected to find him so much the more serious, and 
 open to conviction. In fact, it was no light matter 
 that we were about to contend for, but life or death ; 
 whether the remnant and the close of his mortal 
 existence should be cheered or not by the bright 
 prospects of the Christian religion. 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 15 
 
 When we were comfortably seated, and some 
 common things had been said, observing him very 
 much depressed, I endeavored at once to turn his 
 thoughts towards reh'gion, by remarking, what a 
 vast advantage we had over the very wisest of an- 
 cient times, in regard to the means of supporting 
 pain and evil with patience and resignation. In 
 their beautiful works which have come down to 
 us, they talk perpetually of a fate which none can 
 control, and of the folly of complaining where 
 there is no remedy. With no better reasons than 
 these, the Stoic could arm himself with triple steel, 
 impenetrable by any assault ; and buffet the waves 
 of adversity, without sinking under them. How 
 much rather, then, must the Christian be firmly 
 upheld, who sees, in every thing that befalls him, 
 the hand of a wise and merciful Providence out- 
 stretched over him; and which disciplines him 
 for a better and more durable existence hereafter. 
 
 " Certainly," the sick man said, "this is more 
 comfortable and animating. The other is cold 
 and gloomy enough. What a pity that the Chris- 
 tian account of things cannot be more satisfactorily 
 made out, so as to leave no shadow of doubt in 
 the mind!" 
 
 " Then," I said, " if the thing were mado out 
 to an incontrovertible certainty, there would be no 
 room for faith at all, which is ordained, however. 
 
16 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 to be the constant exercise and trial of the Chris- 
 tian. But, with respect to the proof which you 
 call unsatisfactory, wherein does it fail ? If it be 
 not actual demonstration, what matter of fact ever 
 had greater evidence?" 
 
 " A l)Ook which relates extraordinary things 
 cannot be admitted without extraordinary proof," 
 he said. 
 
 " Certainly," I rejoined, " the book records 
 miracles, and miracles perhaps require more, or 
 greater, evidence than other facts ; yet it can only 
 be evidence of the same kind as is necessary to 
 establish those other facts. Of course, we must 
 have in all cases of facts the testimony of witnesses. 
 But the criterion to try the credit of witnesses 
 is this. It is directly as their knowledge of the 
 facts which they relate and the impossibility of 
 their being deceived themselves ; and inversely 
 as their interest, or wish to deceive us ; so that if 
 they are perfectly acquainted with the facts, and 
 can have no probable wish or interest to deceive, 
 their credit is complete. This was the case with 
 the writers of the New Testament ; they could 
 not by any means be deceived themselves, or ig- 
 norant of the fact of miracles being performed, 
 especially as they themselves performed them 
 every day; and men, who sacrificed their lives, 
 rather than forbear to affirm what thev affirmed, 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 17 
 
 could have no conceivable worldly interest at 
 least in view, which might create a wish in them 
 to deceive the rest of mankind. Thus the matter 
 stands simply. Then comes the collateral evi- 
 dence of the truth of the miracles, which seems to 
 have a strength about it incapable of being shaken ; 
 I mean the rapid propagation of Christianity in 
 the world, which cannot be accounted for, under 
 all the circumstances, without miracles." 
 
 *' Yes," he said, " but the evidence against 
 miracles is stronger than any evidence can pos- 
 sibly be in their favor. God has established 
 certain laws to regulate the course of nature ; and 
 that he should change or suspend his own laws 
 is so improbable as to exceed credulity. In short, 
 no evidence can prove such a thing. Let your 
 evidence come as near as you please to demon- 
 stration itself, yet I consider it to be a certainty, on 
 the other side, that God never has, and never 
 will, alter those laws. Indeed such a proceeding 
 would disturb all our knowledge of nature, and 
 overturn the conclusions of all our experience." 
 " If miracles were performed daily, or very often," 
 I replied, " the effect might be as you describe ; 
 but it would be too much to say, that a certain 
 number of miracles having been performed in 
 certain parts of the world, about 1800 years ago, 
 therefore the knowledge and experience of the 
 2* 
 
18 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 whole world, and of all subsequent ages, must be 
 overturned by it. The very utmost that could be 
 imagined is this ; that persons seeing a vast num- 
 ber of miracles continually, might begin to doubt 
 what wjis nature and what was not. But, in 
 truth, only the very weakest persons could be de- 
 ceived for a moment. If we were now to see a 
 man cure twenty or a hundred people in one day, 
 of the most dreadful diseases, by merely touching 
 them, would that at all disturb our ideas with re- 
 spect to the processes of medicine?" 
 
 Here I paused ; but Mr. Compton not speak- 
 ing, I continued thus : " Besides, it is to be taken 
 into the account, that the person performing the 
 miracles has an errand to deliver from God ; and 
 also that he performs the miracles expressly to 
 prove his divine commission. Miracles are not to be 
 supposed to be performed at random, and we know 
 not why ; but immediately upon seeing a miracle, 
 and our attention together with our astonishment 
 being aroused by it, we shall naturally look to the 
 doer, to hear what he will also say to us; and if 
 what he says be worthy of God, we shall believe it 
 to come from God, and that the miracle is the work 
 of divine power." 
 
 •' Do you allow then," he inquired eagerly, 
 "that real miracles may be performed by any 
 Other than a divine power ?" 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 19 
 
 " That is a question which I cannot settle," I 
 said. " But to argue safely we must allow it. A 
 miracle is something out of the common course 
 of things, and beyond the power of man ; and 
 what beings there may be between man and God, 
 capable of performing miracles, it is impossible 
 for us to conjecture. We know, however, from 
 Scripture, of a whole class of beings superior in 
 power to man and hostile to man, who probably 
 can perform miracles. Scripture itself seems to 
 insinuate that they can ; and moreover, that we 
 may be deceived by their miracles, whether false 
 or true. For this reason, therefore, when we see 
 what we suppose to be a miracle, we must not be 
 carried away by our astonishment, but attend to 
 what the doer says. If the doer should tell us to 
 worship the devil, we detect the miracle immedi- 
 ately, whether a real or a pretended one, to have 
 the devil for its author ; but if the doctrine taught 
 be for our improvement and happiness, we hail 
 the messenger of God." 
 
 Here Mr. Compton interrupted me, by saying 
 with a triumphant air, " I have often heard. Sir, 
 that the doctrines of the gospel are proved by the 
 miracles, and now you tell me that the miracles 
 are proved by the doctrines. Is not this what 
 they call arguing in a circle, which never brings 
 us to any just conclusion ? The doctrines depend 
 
20 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 Upon the miracles, and the miracles upon the doc- 
 trines, what end is there of this ? And what sup- 
 ports them both? Or is not this the same as the 
 world and the tortoise? The tortoise supports 
 the world, but what supports the tortoise? No- 
 thing." Thus he turned the argument about into 
 different shapes, as if he never would be tired of 
 it; and, no doubt, if he had been surrounded by 
 his gay infidel companions, (but the house of sick- 
 ness was not the place for them,) I should have 
 been laughed to scorn. I cast a glance upon Mr, 
 and Mrs. Harrison; they had put down their 
 chocolate, and were evidently uneasy ; they pro- 
 bably disliked their brother's tone, but I fancied, 
 besides, they were not masters of the question, and 
 thence their uneasiness. 
 
 I began my reply with saying, " Many per- 
 sons, have been deceived by that view, and it 
 does at first sight seem a perplexing difficulty, 
 but it is soon unravelled. Divide doctrines into 
 their two species, and the thing is done. Let me 
 ask you, does not the gospel contain moral rules, 
 agreeable to our reason, and discoverable by it, 
 as well as theological -points, some of which are 
 beyond our reason, and all of them purely matters 
 of revelation ?" 
 
 He hesitated ; so I said, " Take an example : 
 • Do unto others as you would wish that they 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 21 
 
 should do unto you^ Is not this maxim to be 
 found in the gospel?" 
 
 He assented. 
 
 •' Did we stand in need of a revelation to make 
 this known to us ?" 
 
 " No," he replied. 
 
 " Is it not agreeable to our reason ?" 
 
 He allowed it. 
 
 " Is it not also discoverable by our reason, and 
 the light of nature?" 
 
 " To be sure it is," he answered ; " and it had 
 been discovered long before the gospel mention- 
 ed it?" 
 
 " Very well then," I said, " we will call if you 
 please, all doctrines of this kind moral precepts ; 
 or, for the sake of brevity, precepts simply " 
 
 " As you will," he replied. 
 
 " Now," I said, " take an example of another 
 sort of doctrine. ' I and my Father are one.' 
 This is in the gospel, is it not ?" 
 
 He granted it. 
 
 " Could we have known it without revelation ?" 
 
 " No, certainly," he answered. 
 
 " Is it agreeable to our reason, or beyond it?" 
 
 " Beyond it," he replied, "most unquestion- 
 ably." 
 
 " Now then," I said, " for all the doctrines of 
 this kind, which are very numerous, let us reserve 
 
22 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 the term doctrines, and appropriate it to them 
 alone. Have you any objection ?" 
 
 " None whatever," he answered. 
 
 *' So then," I said, " we have now agreed to 
 denominate all the great propositions of Scripture 
 by the two titles of precepts and doctrines, and 
 the difference between them is manifested." 
 
 *' It is quite so," he replied. 
 
 " Observe then," I said. " When it is asserted, 
 that the doctrines are proved by the miracles, they 
 mean by doctrines what we have this instant 
 agreed to call doctrines ; namely, the pure theolo- 
 gical dogmata, which are beyond our reason, and 
 discoverable only by revelation ; and it is perfect- 
 ly plain, that, unless the teacher of these doctrines 
 performed miracles, they could not be known to 
 be of divine origin. On the other hand, when it 
 is asserted that the miracles are proved by the 
 doctrines, by doctrines are meant precepts ; name- 
 ly, those excellent moral rules for the government 
 of human life which our reason is capable of dis- 
 covering, which human reason had partly discov- 
 ered, and which the most exalted reason the most 
 approves. Why these precepts are necessary to 
 prove the miracles to be divine, arises from the 
 supposition that miracles, true or false, but such as 
 to deceive, may be performed by wicked beings. 
 For if any thing contradictory to these precepts be 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 23 
 
 taught by the doer of the miracles, the miracles 
 are detected at once. As our Savior said, 'the 
 tree is known by its fruits ;' and again, • if Satan 
 be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom 
 stand V Tell me then what the precepts are, and 
 I will tell you what the doer of the miracle is. 
 Upon the whole, therefore, you see, there is no 
 vicious circle, as you imagined. This, in fact, is 
 the order in which the transaction may be suppos- 
 ed to proceed. An extraordinary person appears 
 in the world, in the most learned and enlightened 
 age of it ; uneducated himself, he preaches a sys- 
 tem of ethics, so pure, so sublime, so calculated to 
 promote the welfare and happiness of individuals, 
 of families, and of nations, that all the accumulated 
 reason of all mankind in all ages had not attained 
 to any thing equal ; the same person performs 
 mighty miracles. What must we think of him ?" 
 "Why, Sir," exclaimed Mr. Harrison with 
 warmth, " that God is with him of a truth." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," I said : " for such a system 
 overturns the devil's kingdom, and therefore the 
 devil cotlld not work the miracles to establish that 
 system. But mark the sequel. This extraordi- 
 nary personage, having excited your admiration, 
 and won your love, by the beauty and perfection 
 of his heavenly precepts ; and by his works, hav- 
 ing extorted from you the willing confession that 
 
24 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 his authority is divine, you are now ripe for his 
 doctrines ; you are now prepared to admit what 
 you could only admit on divine authority : such a 
 teacher cannot lie; whatever he says is truth 
 itself, and issues from the fountain of truth : though 
 your reason, so delighted and satisfied before, may 
 now be perplexed and dazzled, and unable to cope 
 with the mighty difficulties of the things revealed; 
 yet you must submit your reluctant faculties, you 
 must bow in humble silence, or you must break 
 out into prayer, and say, Lord, I believe, help thou 
 mine unbelief" 
 
 Here I paused, and none of them interrupted 
 the silence. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison had their 
 eyes fixed on Mr. Compton, and seemed to ex- 
 pect that he should declare his sentiments ; but he 
 uttered not a word. He appeared to be Avrapt in 
 thoughts which were not easy to him. It might 
 be, that he was disturbed by the breaking up of 
 his position, and by the consequent approxima- 
 tion towards the necessity of becoming a Chris- 
 tian. But he was not a penitent, nor weaned yet 
 from the vices of the world ; so that to adopt 
 Christianity was an intolerable idea. He feared 
 it, and, therefore, he did not yet desire it. 
 
 At length, having had time to reflect, I thought 
 it better to attempt to fill up the parts of the argu- 
 ment, than to press him for an opinion upon it in 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 25 
 
 his present state : I resumed my discourse, there- 
 fore, nearly as follows : 
 
 " We have passed on so rapidly, that we have 
 left several important things behinds us. The 
 excellency of the things taught decides the char- 
 acter of the miracles, as we have already shown ; 
 but then there is a reaction of the miracles upon 
 the things taught, and we now perceive them to 
 be directly sanctioned by the great God of heaven, 
 and we acknowledge, of course, that they must be 
 implicitly obeyed. Under any circumstances, the 
 gospel-precepts would be pronounced to be worthy 
 of God ; but, taking them in the abstract, we could 
 not know whether they came immediately from 
 him. Being things discoverable by human rea- 
 son, we could not tell whether they might not 
 have been so discovered, whatever might be their 
 superior excellence, and the humbleness of their 
 authors; and, therefore, we could not assign to 
 them more than the highest human authority; 
 but, the preachers of them performing miracles, 
 at once the authority becomes divine. For a test 
 of the miracles, it is enough that ihey are excellent, 
 but to give them complete authority over us, it is 
 necessary to show that their origin is divine ; and 
 this is done by the miracles. 
 
 " Then again, with respect to the doctrines, at 
 least a great portion of them, there is a reaction 
 3 
 
26 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 there also. Take this as an example of what I 
 mean : — ' God so loved the world, that he gave 
 his only begotten Son, to the end that all who be- 
 lieve in him should not perish, but have everlast- 
 ing life.' This is one of the doctrines which Ave 
 could never have known but by revelation, and 
 even when revealed to us, we understand very little 
 more than the simple proposition. But this is by 
 no means a dry, speculative, unoperative proposi- 
 tion ; and what is most striking about it, is the 
 benevolence of it, which surpasses all human 
 understanding. We can only receive it, indeed, 
 and believe it altogether, on the authority of the 
 miracles ; but the clear, benevolent object of it 
 may be taken as a primary test of the miracles 
 themselves. What a picture have we here of 
 God's immense goodness and mercy towards a 
 fallen part of his creation, that he spared his owji 
 Son from his bosom to redeem and save it ! How 
 gracious, unspeakably gracious, to make faith and 
 trust in that Savior the condition of rescuing us 
 from eternal death, and restoring us to that ever- 
 lasting life, which we had forfeited and lost. We 
 are absorbed in wonder and gratitude, and are 
 disposed to exclaim at once, this is divine ; this 
 proves the miracles to be of God. 
 
 " Now, then, put the whole together. A man 
 in outward appearance preaches most excellent 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 27 
 
 precepts and most benevolent doctrines ; and he 
 performs miracles, which, in consequence, we 
 pronounce divine. But, the preacher's divine 
 commission being now established, we revert to 
 the same precepts and doctrines, and pronounce 
 them divine also. This is the short summation 
 of the argument ; pray tell me, now sir, whether, 
 in yoMY judgment of it, there lies any objection to it. 
 Is the reasoning liable to the charge of being in a 
 circle, or paralogistic ? I throw myself upon your 
 candor and ingenuousness for your honest opinion." 
 
 " Why, then, Dr. Warton," he said, " as you 
 press me so closely, I must confess, that you have 
 put this matter in a light w^hich is new to me, 
 and, perhaps, the true one, if miracles were really 
 performed. But all this is outstripping the main 
 question. You assume those miracles through- 
 out ; whereas 1 denied in the very beginning that 
 any evidence could prove a miracle. Without 
 doubt, if miracles had been really performed, then 
 they might have been applied to the purposes 
 which you mention, of showing that certain pre- 
 cepts had God's authority, and that certain doctrines 
 were true doctrines, and to be believed as such." 
 
 " It is true," I said, " we have not attacked that 
 question directly ; but we have acted as pioneers, 
 and have cleared away the approaches to it. A 
 miracle, which is a departure from the established 
 
28 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 course of God's government, can only be justified, 
 even according to my notions, by a most worthy 
 and an extraordinary occasion ; such as an errand 
 from God to mankind would be. I ask you, could 
 any errand be known to be from God without a 
 miracle accompanying it ?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " the errand itself might 
 show it." 
 
 " Then," I said, " if any errand could show it, 
 the Christian religion, a fortiori, would show it ; 
 for never was so noble and excellent an errand as 
 that. But we have settled already, that the Chris- 
 tian precepts, excellent and noble as they may be, 
 could not show it, because it is of their essence to 
 be discoverable by human reason ; and certainly 
 the doctrines could not show it ; because, although 
 excellent and noble too, like the precepts, and well 
 worthy of coming from God, and being such as 
 can only come by revelation, yet still, the result 
 of experience decides the matter incontestably, 
 that it is difficult to persuade multitudes of man- 
 kind to receive them as divine, even with the help 
 of miracles; so much are many of them above 
 and beyond our reason. In fact, I believe it is to 
 get rid of these doctrines, that persons would 
 get rid of the miracles ; which is a tacit confession 
 that only miracles could prove them." 
 
 " Now how is any message to be shown to be 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 29 
 
 from God 1 When God wished to send a mes- 
 sage to the Jews by Moses, that illustrious messen- 
 ger very properly demanded a miraculous power 
 for his credential; for he argued well, that with- 
 out such a credential, the Jews would only disre- 
 gard, or ridicule his pretensions, however gracious 
 and honorable for them the message itself might 
 be. Again, when God sent a message to Gideon, 
 to order him to do something, for which he 
 thought himself unqualified by his want of rank 
 and ability, he would not be satisfied, that the 
 message really came from God, until he saw a mir- 
 acle. And this agrees with the common sense of 
 mankind. I ask you, therefore, once more, to 
 point out, if you can, any other method of discri- 
 minating God's ambassador than by a miracle." 
 
 Mr. Compton appearing to be reluctant to com- 
 mit himself, Mr. Harrison answered for him, that 
 there was no other way imaginable ; and that it 
 was all in vain to talk, or think of any expedient, 
 with the view of getting rid of miracles. " The 
 case," he said, " is too manifest to admit of debate, 
 or doubt." 
 
 Mr. Compton here suggested what was ex- 
 tremely absurd for a man of his principles ; name- 
 ly, that the messenger might be described before- 
 hand, and, consequently, known when he came, 
 by his correspondence to the description. 
 
30 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 " This previous description would be a pro- 
 phecy, would it not?" I asked. 
 
 " It certainly would," he replied. 
 
 " Then you allow," I asked again, " do you. 
 Sir, such things as prophecies?" 
 
 " No indeed," he exclaimed, aware of the net in 
 which he had incautiously entangled himself, " I 
 allow nothing. I must have every thing proved 
 legitimately. I have only stated a supposition 
 now for the sake of discussing it." 
 
 This discouraged me ; but I proceeded to in- 
 quire, whether he considered a prophecy to be ac- 
 cording to the course of nature, or within the 
 sphere of human ability. 
 
 " No," he answered, " I do not. For though 
 some men have a wonderful talent of foreseeing 
 events at a distance, yet it can never be reckoned, 
 generally, a human talent." 
 
 " Then a prophecy," I said, " is a species of 
 miracle, is it not ?" 
 
 " Why, to be sure," he replied, "you may call 
 it so, if you please." 
 
 " Oh !" I rejoined, " it matters not what you or 
 I may be pleased to call it. A prophecy is a real 
 miracle, in the true sense of the term ; it is out of 
 the course of nature, and the power of man. And 
 more especially to prefigure a person, who is to 
 appear at a remote period, so exactly, as that he 
 
REAL OBJECTION OF CHRISTIANITY. 31 
 
 may be known at once when he does appear, 
 seems to be one of the greatest of miracles. We, 
 therefore, still want a criterion." 
 
 " Well," said he, " you have allowed. Dr. War- 
 ton, that errands and miracles go both together ; 
 and that either of them without the other is not 
 credible, or not supposable. Take away the er- 
 rand, therefore, and the miracle falls to the ground 
 of itself, being left without any support. And, I 
 am sure, it appears to me one of the most unlikely 
 things in the world, that God should trouble him- 
 self, or condescend so far, as to send any messages 
 to us. We are not of consequence enough in the 
 creation. This earth is but a molehill, and loe 
 ants upon it, in comparison with the infinite extent 
 of God's whole dominion." 
 
 Thus, then, after a long conflict, a new battle 
 was to be fought, which might last equally long, 
 and terminate with equal apparent unsuccess. But 
 it behoved me not to shrink ; so, after a short 
 pause : — " Your account of man, at all events," I 
 said, " is very different from the scriptural account. 
 Judge, when you have heard the latter, which is 
 the noblest, and the most accurate, and the most de- 
 sirable to embrace. When the great Creator had 
 finished the rest of his works, wanting another 
 creature to rule them all, and, as their Priest, to 
 adore him in their name, he said, ' Let us make 
 
32 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 man in our own image after our likeness.' In 
 the creation of other things, all is done with the 
 tone of command, or with a mere volition. ' Let 
 there be light ; let there be a firmament ; let the 
 earth bring forth so and so.' But when man is to 
 be made — a creature who is to be endued with 
 reason and intelligence — the very image of the 
 Maker, — he used an expression which indicates 
 deliberation and counsel; of whom, as well as of 
 himself, man was to be both the workmanship and 
 the resemblance. By the mode, too, in which 
 the body is related to have been formed, there is 
 a striking mark of the pre-eminence of man. To 
 mould the human body, the divine workman, it 
 should seem, takes the clay himself He applies, 
 we are told, his own hands to the senseless mat- 
 ter ; and there grows up under them a form of ex- 
 quisite, surpassing beauty ; a wonderful specimen 
 of what omniscience can plan, and omnipotence 
 execute. But the production of the soul is still 
 more astonishing ; he derives it not from the most 
 subtil material substances — he breathes it from 
 on high ; the soul is a particle of his own spirit- 
 ual essence — a spark of his own ethereal flame, 
 unextinguishable for ever. It is the soul, there- 
 fore, which reflects chiefly the bright image of 
 the Maker — immaterial, immortal — possessing 
 within herself the faculty of self-agency; gifted 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 33 
 
 with the noble powers of thinking, of reasoning, 
 of willing ; the subject of moral responsibility — 
 capable of righteousness and holiness in this tran- 
 sient world, and of aspiring beyond it to a state of 
 everlasting permanency and perfection in her na- 
 tive heavens. All the matter in all the millions 
 of suns and tens of millions of worlds which re- 
 volve about them — whatever beauty, whatever 
 magnificence God has conferred upon it, is not 
 equal to one single particle of mind. Such is the 
 soul, — and thus were soul and body created ; and 
 all the subsequent accounts of Scripture show, that 
 God has never withdrawn his care from any of 
 the works of his own hands ; that he superintends 
 them by a vigilant, incessant providence; that 
 every soul of man, more especially, is infinitely 
 precious in his sight ; and that his will is, that 
 not one of them should perish. Hence, therefore, 
 message after message to mankind — messages of 
 love, of instruction, of warnings, of threatenings, 
 of promises, of pardon, of reconciliation, of grace 
 here, of glory hereafter. Thus speaks the Bible ; 
 and does not every heart beat responsive to this 
 gladsome history? Where is the man who, so 
 far from being refreshed and renovated, in his pil- 
 grimage through life, by drinking deeply of the 
 streams of this divine knowledge, would rather 
 plunge blindfold into the dark, disconsolate system 
 
34 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 of conflicting atoms — of a God, too inert and in- 
 dolent, too fond of ease and repose, too mucli wrapt 
 up in the silent, abstracted contemplation of him- 
 self and his own essence and pleasures, to create 
 worlds, or to govern them? How different the 
 God of the Bible, by whom every hair of our 
 heads is numbered, and without whose knowledge 
 and will, not a sparrow falleth to the ground? 
 But, it must disturb him, you think — ^this omnipre- 
 sent, omniscient, omnipotent Being — it must dis- 
 turb him, and distract him, and overwhelm him, to 
 bear so vast a load — to regulate so prodigious a 
 multiplicity of things. Have you considered how 
 much those infinite perfections infer ? They con- 
 fute the narrow notion of a God faint and weary 
 with the burden of affairs. You are finite, and 
 your works are in the proportion of finite to finite ; 
 but in the works of God the proportion is of infi- 
 nite to infinite. Yes, you may still say, but it is 
 all below his dignity. Not so thought the sub- 
 limest genius amongst men, who sung of God 
 after another sort. ' He giveth food to the young 
 ravens which cry; he openeth his hand, and fill- 
 eth all things living with plenteousness.' There 
 is an argument, however, which is short, and ir- 
 resistible. If it was not below his dignity to 
 create, it is not below it to preserve and govern 
 his creation." 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 35 
 
 Thus I went on, and could have gone on for 
 ever, borne along by the prolific magnificence of 
 the topic; but still more, by a feeling of indigna- 
 tion, that men, who are taught, and encouraged, 
 and imvardly urged to look so high, should vol- 
 untarily debase themselves and their condition so 
 low, as if they would be prone and grovelling, 
 like the brute. After I had paused, my mind still 
 swelled with the idea ; and a minute or two elaps- 
 ed, before I was aware that nobody was preparing 
 to answer me. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison told me in 
 private, afterwards, that they were silent, lest they 
 might Aveaken xvhat I had said. Mr. Compton I 
 could not fathom. He was capable, indeed, of ad- 
 miring lofty notions, because of his liberal educa- 
 tion ; and I fancied, once or twice, that I saw a 
 beam of light irradiating his care-worn counte- 
 nance, and I almost expected him to exclaim, I 
 yield; but sin yet weighed him down; and, as 
 he might fear, that, if the gospel were true, its 
 punishments and not its rewards awaited him, he, 
 perhaps in his secret thoughts, preferred annihi- 
 lation. 
 
 However, at length, to bring him to somethino- 
 more decisive, L said, - Your objection as to the 
 trouble and condescension of the Deity in favor 
 of man, and your ideas of the insignificance of 
 man himself, are, I trust, materially weakened, if 
 
36 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 not entirely removed. It is true my answer has 
 been derived chiefly from Scripture, but at all 
 events it must be allowed, with respect to man, 
 that on this globe there is no other creature in any 
 way to be compared with him, or so worthy of 
 the care of Providence. It must be allowed, 
 moreover, that this globe itself is an important 
 constituent portion of one great solar system, 
 which embraces many millions of miles in the re- 
 gions of space ; and that, if there were thousands 
 or millions of such systems, or much larger ones, 
 yet it is quite incredible that any one of them 
 should be neglected by its Supreme Maker : when 
 in the construction, and movements, and all the 
 circumstances of them there is displayed, without 
 doubt, as in ours, an astonishing skill of mecha- 
 nics and geometry ; striking marks, innumerable, 
 of contrivance and design, and of final causes ; 
 and a beauty, magnificence, order, and harmony 
 of the parts, and of the whole, which bespeak 
 the divine workman. If one such system were 
 blotted at once out of the Universe, we might 
 fancy that it would not be missed, and that no gap 
 would be visible in the creation. But if one might 
 be blotted out in this manner, and God not regard 
 the loss, as being insignificant when compared 
 with the remainder, then another and another 
 maybe blotted out with the same result ; and I do 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 37 
 
 not see where this will end, but in proving too 
 much : namely, that God cares for none of these 
 many systems, and not merely that he does not 
 care for one or two out of the many. But, I pre- 
 sume, you will not go this length ; and therefore 
 we must of necessity conclude that our own solar 
 system is under his immediate, superintending pro- 
 vidence, and, consequently, every world also which 
 is a part of that system — and, above all, what is 
 most valuable in each world. And here, as we 
 have said, in this planet of ours, man is the most 
 valuable creature, for whose habitation and use, in 
 in fact, the planet itself was apparently made. Or 
 do you think that God has placed more valuable 
 creatures than men in the other planets, towards 
 whom he exercises a due and constant regard; 
 and that this earth, although inhabited and pos- 
 sessed by so excellent a creature as man must be 
 confessed to be, is still but a sort of moon to those 
 other planets, or a mere counterpoise, to regulate 
 their velocities, and to keep them in their appoint- 
 ed stations, and at their proper distances from the 
 sun, and from each other ?" 
 
 The absurdity of this supposition drew forth 
 from my antagonist the only observation which 
 he had hazarded for a long time. Amongst his 
 own set, where there was no restraint, no neces- 
 sity for deliberation, no fear of being convicted of 
 4 
 
38 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 ignorance, he was quick, I believe, in rapartee, 
 and by a smart sally of wit he would turn the 
 laugh upon an opponent ; but such a talent was 
 useless here. He had tried it indeed, and it had 
 failed. The respect which even the profligate feel 
 for the sacredness of the clergyman's character; 
 the charitable and wholly disinterested purpose for 
 which I came to him ; the gravity and solemnity 
 of my manner at particular moments ; the superior 
 information which I possessed upon the subjects 
 of our discussion ; all these together produced a 
 sort of awe and fear in him, lest he should either 
 oflfend me or expose himself He was therefore 
 becoming very cautious, and in consequence he 
 was often entirely mute. Here, however, he inter- 
 posed, and allowed, that it would be a sad clumsy 
 contrivance to make one world for the sake of 
 lightening and balancing other worlds. To do so 
 would be somewhat similar to what they tell us of 
 the spleen in the human body, that it was only put 
 there to pack up the space tight and clever. 
 •' But after all," he said, " I do not see why we 
 may not consider the divine architect just the same 
 as any human architect. The watchmaker, for in- 
 stance, constructs a watch with wonderful skill and 
 pains, and delivers it out of his hands when finish- 
 ed, and troubles himself no more about it. What 
 is a world to God but as a watch to a watchmaker?" 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 39 
 
 "What object," I inquired, "has the watch* 
 maker in view when he makes a watch ?" 
 
 " To maintain himself, I have no doubt," was 
 his answer. 
 
 " Most likely," I said, " and therefore of course 
 he does not care what becomes of it, Avhen he has 
 exchanged it for the things which he wants; for 
 clothing, food, and lodging. Has God any wants 
 of this kind, or of any other kind ?" 
 
 " None whatever," he replied ; " it would be 
 absurd to think so." 
 
 " It would indeed," I said. " But still he 
 must have some object in making worlds, must 
 he not? Does he make them, do you suppose, 
 as children blow soap bubbles, to try their own 
 dexterity; to gaze at them mounting into the air; 
 to admire, for an instant, the pretty colors which 
 they reflect, and then to laugh and exult when 
 they burst and disappear?" 
 
 " I allow," he answered, " that he must have 
 some object, and a worthier object than this ; but 
 what it may be I cannot conjecture." 
 
 " I will tell you then," I said. " It is his de- 
 sire of exercising his great attributes for the pur- 
 pose of communicating pleasure and happiness. 
 If he were the only being, as he is the greatest, 
 he would still be infinitely happy in himself. 
 But this solitary grandeur and self-sufliciency 
 
40 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 limit, or even supersede, the very energies which 
 may well be supposed to constitute his happiness. 
 Simply to be — wonderful as is the mode of his ex- 
 istence ; necessary, that is, and underived, from all 
 eternity — simply to be, even after this unspeakable 
 mode, can never be all. Infinite goodness ?nust and 
 will diffuse itself around through infinite space ; 
 infinite wisdom will never cease to plan, nor infinite 
 power to create, recipients of infinite love. Thus 
 worlds arise, by the eternal fiat, replenished with 
 creatures capable of their suitable enjoyments, and 
 some amongst the rest capable also of a moral 
 government ; and it is evident that in the govern- 
 ment of these chiefly will the great glory of so 
 incomparable a being be, first and last, most illus- 
 triously displayed. Every flower that sips the 
 dew of heaven seems to lift up its head to heaven 
 in token of gratitude and praise ; every living 
 creature that creeps upon the earth, or wings the 
 air, or swims through the w^orld of waters, by 
 their sportive joy attest the sense of their Creator's 
 bounty. But this is mere poetry, you will say ; 
 it is the rational creature only who is able to give 
 an actual utterance to the sentiments of the whole 
 creation ; he alone, in this vast temple of the uni- 
 verse, can actually worship the God of it ; he 
 alone, indeed, has faculties, by which he may as- 
 cend to the knowledge of him, appreciate his 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 41 
 
 manifold works of mercy, and above all, by obedi- 
 ence to his will, of his own free choice, and by no 
 compulsory law of his nature, glorify him with 
 his proper glory. But now, observe, we are re- 
 turned to the point from which we set out. The 
 whole of the divine will we can only ascertain by a 
 revelation ; and as God's chief glory arises from 
 our conformity to that will, a revelation is a priori 
 a most probable event, and consequently miracles 
 are probable also, by which alone the revelation 
 can be proved. But this may be put in a stronger 
 light. Suppose the rational creature, by the abuse 
 of his noble but dangerous privilege of free will, 
 to have transgressed the boundaries originally 
 assigned to him, and thus to have fallen under the 
 just displeasure of his Maker — how is he to re- 
 cover his lost estate? How is he to know, indeed, 
 whether it be recoverable or not? O what a 
 worthy cause have we here for a revelation of 
 love and mercy, and therefore for miracles to 
 attest its truth, to raise the drooping spirit of the 
 wretched, fallen being, and to assure him of his 
 reconciliation to his God !" 
 
 As the time had now arrived when it was 
 necessary for me to leave my sick friend, I rose 
 from my seat and said, " I shall be happy, Mr. 
 Compton, to see you again. A great deal has 
 passed between us, in this hasty discussion, which 
 
42 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 deserves, and may require, maturer reflection. 
 Think it over, I earnestly entreat you, in the calm 
 solitude of your own breast. Trace out the several 
 steps of the argument through which we have 
 travelled, and examine the ground on which we 
 have trodden. If you discover a false step, or 
 what may appear to you to be so, point it out to 
 me when we next meet, and we will re-examine 
 it together." Then, having said this, before they 
 were well aware, and with a view to escape the 
 trouble and delay of ceremony, I took up my 
 hat and cane, and was out of the room in a mo- 
 ment. I was really in a hurry ; but I feel some- 
 times after conversations of this kind, as when I 
 descend from the pulpit, that the small talk of 
 common life is a sad falling off, and an intolera- 
 ble frivolity. 
 
 My going away, however, so hastily, procured 
 me a visit the next day from Mr. and Mrs. Har- 
 rison, who complimented me upon my eloquence, 
 as they were pleased to call it, and upon the irre- 
 sistible force oi argument with which I had main- 
 tained the claims of revelation ; and they told me, 
 that they did not know how to thank me suffi- 
 ciently for the great exertions which I had made 
 to convince him, and for the cool temper and un- 
 wearied patience with which I had followed up 
 the shifting current of the discussion, and had met 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 43 
 
 him perpetually on his own new-chosen ground. 
 But, what was of more consequence, they inform- 
 ed me, that they were commissioned by Mr. Comp- 
 ton himself to apologize to me for any apparent 
 want of civility in his conduct towards me, and to 
 charge it upon the deplorable state of his health, 
 which often tormented his body wdth pain, and 
 disturbed his mind with care. To this they added, 
 that, if the following day was fine, he intended to 
 try a longer airing than usual, and invited me to 
 accompany him, with the express view of renew- 
 ing the conversation. 
 
 " But what hope?" I inquired eagerly. "This 
 invitation seems a favorable omen ; it bespeaks a 
 willingness to hear, at least, which God perchance 
 may bless. Has any progress meanwhile been 
 made?" 
 
 " Believe me. Sir," said Mrs. Harrison, " this 
 itself is no little progress ; but much more, I trust, 
 has been done. I was left alone with my brother 
 when you went from us yesterday, Mr. Harrison 
 having folio V7ed you, though without overtaking 
 you, to the door. After a moment's pause, 'This 
 Dr. Warton,' he exclaimed suddenly, ' is an expert 
 man at his weapons, and pins me down so tightly 
 that I cannot get loose. I shall be frightened 
 when he begins those plausible questions again, 
 which I no sooner answered, than I found myself 
 
44 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 caught, and condemned out of my own mouth. 
 But he was equally terrible to me when he spread 
 his sails, and took a wider rangfe ; for thoug-h I 
 had only to listen, and might have listened with 
 delight if I had been an unconcerned auditor, yet 
 feeling myself to be a principal character in the 
 drama, and one very deeply interested, and repre- 
 sented, too, throughout, in a degraded light, and 
 borne down by a torrent, these cushions, I assure 
 you, were never so uneasy to me before. He had 
 greatly the advantage over me, my dear Charlotte, 
 had he not?' 'Yes, indeed, brother,' I answered, 
 
 * he had certainly ; but it was no discredit to your 
 talents, for in my opinion the cause which you 
 endeavor to maintain cannot be maintained by 
 any talents. It is too unworthy both of God and 
 of man.' ' Well, Charlotte, leave me till dinner- 
 time to myself I will for once at least attend to 
 his advice, and retrace the course of the argu- 
 ment, that I may see whether I granted any thing 
 which I ought to have denied, and the concession 
 of which paved way for his apparent victory.' 
 
 • Do, my dear brother,' I replied, ' and be sure to 
 take care that you are impartial, and search for 
 truth — for truth alone, and not for the triumph of 
 any set of opinions.' The remainder of my story 
 is short. He summoned me to his bed-chamber 
 this morning, and, after saying that he had been 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 45 
 
 thinking deeply and incessantly upon all the topics 
 that arose in the discussion between himself and 
 you, he dictated the message which I have just 
 delivered." 
 
 " Very well," I said, " I shall be at his service, 
 and may God prosper the event." In this prayer 
 they joined fervently, and so quitted the rectory. 
 
 The next morning- was propitious to the plan 
 of the extended drive, though not warm enough to 
 admit of the carriage been thrown open. If this, 
 indeed, had been done, we might have enjoyed the 
 prospects better, but I do not see exactly how we 
 could have conversed with due freedom, (especial- 
 ly as, when heated, I spoke sometimes in an ele- 
 vated key,) without making the coachman and 
 footman a party in the discussion. Mrs. Harri- 
 son alone was with us ; for, Mr. Compton being 
 so placed as to occupy one side of the carriage 
 himself, there was room for two only on the other 
 side, and it was his particular wish to have his 
 sister with him. He considered his health upon 
 the whole a little improved, and with that idea his 
 spirits had risen in proportion ; but I understood 
 it to be the opinion of the medical men that his 
 recovery was not to be expected ; that he might 
 linger for two or three months, or that his death 
 might be soon and sudden. He had not the most 
 distant notion himself that there was a limit fixed 
 
46 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 for him, so very short at the longest ; when his 
 disorder was violent, he was immediately depress- 
 ed and thought he should die, but a better night, 
 and a little freedom from pain, removed the trouble- 
 some impression, and revived the hopes of life. 
 
 Upon being clear of the houses and the pave- 
 ment, when the usual things, about his health, the 
 weather, and the intended ride, had been said, Mr. 
 Compton remarked, that " the conclusion, at which 
 we appeared, in our late discussion, to have arrived, 
 depended upon a premise rather assumed than 
 established. Miracles pre -supposed an errand 
 from God to man ; but the object of a divine errand 
 must be to declare the divine will. Now, if the 
 divine will be discoverable by man himself, by a 
 due use of his own reason, there will be no neces- 
 sity of a special errand." " No," I said ; " but you 
 must recollect, that precepts only, and not doctrines, 
 are within the scope of human discovery. Grant- 
 ing, therefore, that all the most excellent precepts, 
 as we have them in the gospel, were actually 
 discovered, and sufficiently made known to man- 
 kind, and universally acknowledged for the rule 
 of life, all which is necessary besides the disco- 
 very, yet bow are we to know the doctrines, which 
 are not so discoverable, and which moreover it 
 may be highly expedient or even necessary for us 
 to know ? In fact, these doctrines, we may well 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 47 
 
 imagine, are the very occasion of God's errand. 
 Do you think that God would send a message to 
 us, and disturb the course of nature to bear witness 
 to it, merely to tell us what we know, or might 
 have known already?" 
 
 Here I paused for an answer, but Mr. Compton 
 declined to give any, and said, " I am much 
 obliged to you, Dr. Warton, for talking with me ; 
 but I must request of you not to pursue that sys- 
 tem of questions upon questions. My health is 
 not equal to the fatigue and anxiety of it ; and I 
 find myself sometimes entrapped by it unawares 
 into concessions, of which I afterwards repent. I 
 like best to hear you speak continuously, and to 
 be enabled to view the whole argument at once." 
 
 " Well," I replied, " I will cheerfully pursue 
 that course, if you wish it, but I must once trouble 
 you so far as to ask you, whether truth be not the 
 great object of our investigation, and such truth as 
 is of unspeakable moment?" 
 
 " It is certainly," he answered. 
 
 " And does not every argument," I asked again, 
 " consist of three propositions at least, when fully 
 drawn out ; namely, the two premises and the con- 
 clusion?" He allowed it. 
 
 " If, then," I said, " I put the first premise to you 
 in the form of a question, and you consent to it with 
 your own mouth, and the second premise also be 
 
48 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 put and granted in a similar manner, can you 
 have a more compendious or a more decisive and 
 indisputable mode of arriving at self conviction 
 with respect to the conclusion, which is, perhaps, 
 the very truth after which we are searching, and 
 which we agree in considering of extreme im- 
 portance?" 
 
 " It may be the shortest mode," he replied, " and 
 when a man has allowed the premises, he cannot 
 easily, or with a good face, dispute the legitimate 
 conclusion ; but it would be more agreeable to me 
 to know the whole journey which it is proposed 
 to me to travel, before I take a single step. In 
 short, I would not willingly take a single step, 
 without knowing where it would place me, and 
 what would be the second and the third step, and, 
 above all, the last. As I said before, any other 
 mode is too fatiguing and too anxious for me." 
 
 " Which is easiest," I inquired, " to consider 
 one insulated, unconnected proposition, or a chain 
 of propositions consisting of many links'?" He 
 hesitated ; but he was compelled to confess, that 
 the single proposition was the easiest to consider. 
 
 " Again," I inquired, "as to the man who is in 
 search of truth, is he alarmed about any of the 
 steps which may conduct him towards it, being 
 so excellent a thing, and the very thing which he 
 wants to find?" 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 49 
 
 He was touched to the quick, and instead of 
 answering, he exclaimed, " Oh, Dr. Warton, you 
 are doing at this moment what I particularly de- 
 precated." 
 
 " Yes, yes," I said, smiling ; " these prelimina- 
 ries must needs be settled in this very manner, and 
 then we may afterwards consider, whether the same 
 or any other mode shall be adopted, in the great de- 
 bate which is to follow. Suppose, therefore, for a 
 moment, a person having a monstrous unaccounta- 
 ble antipathy to the mathematical truth, respecting 
 the two lines, that continually approach and never 
 meet ; what would be his conduct ? When any 
 simpler proposition, in the road to the more diffi- 
 cult one, which he holds in abhorrence, was pro- 
 posed to him, would he not fatigue and rack his 
 brain with thinking how that simpler proposition 
 might bear upon the other, and torment himself 
 with anxiety, lest, by allowing it, he might imper- 
 ceptibly be committed to the allowing of the abom- 
 inable one ? Whereas, if he were simply a learner 
 of mathematical truths, without any prejudice 
 against any particular proposition, he would follow, 
 not only fearlessly, but also joyfully, wherever he 
 might be led, from truth to truth, and refreshed 
 and recruited by every new discovery. Is not 
 this so ?" 
 
 It was impossible for him to deny it. 
 6 
 
50 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 *' Much more, then," I said, " will it be so in 
 morals and religion, which affect every man's pre- 
 sent conduct and future prospects. If the inquirer 
 is prejudiced against the conclusion, and thinks he 
 has any interest in evading it, he will, of course, 
 fatigue himself with anxiety about every proposi- 
 tion which may bring him a step nearer to it ; but 
 if not, he will never consider previously where 
 any proposition, if accepted, may eventually lead 
 him, nor will he be anxious about it ; all that sort 
 of fatigue and anxiety he will entirely escape ; he 
 will consider only whether the proposition be true, 
 and he will act accordingly." 
 
 Here I paused. Mr. Compton was conscience- 
 stricken and speechless. He was too proud to 
 confess or to deny his feelings ; but if he had de- 
 nied them, his countenance would have convicted 
 him of a falsehood ; to bring him to confess them 
 seemed to me to be of the most essential conse- 
 quence. So, turning to Mrs. Harrison, I said, 
 " Join with me, my good Madam, in pressing Mr. 
 Compton to lay open his whole bosom to us. We 
 are precisely the persons to whom it would be 
 most natural, most proper, and most safe to do it. 
 You are his sister, whom, after a long estrange- 
 ment, he has recalled to his affection ; and he is 
 assured of your tender care and solicitude for him. 
 He cannot fear to entrust any thing to you. I am 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 51 
 
 his spiritual guardian, appointed by the laws of 
 his country and the discipline of our holy church, 
 to entreat, to advise, to admonish him, for his pre- 
 sent and eternal welfare. But I cannot perform 
 this office with due effect, with so many impedi- 
 ments in my way, which, perhaps, I might remove 
 at once, if I knew his heart." 
 
 Mrs. Harrison was deeply affected, and could 
 only weep. But her tears, perhaps, availed her 
 more than any words could have done. Her broth- 
 er was evidently moved, and took her by the hand, 
 and tried to soothe her ; but still no advance was 
 yet made towards the purpose which I had in 
 view. I resumed, therefore, and said, looking at 
 Mr. Compton, 
 
 " If the Christian religion be true, we must be- 
 lieve it all events ; and should there be any thing 
 unrepented of in our past life, which makes us 
 dread it and cavil against it, that will not alter the 
 fact or the consequence of its truth ; nor would it 
 profit us to die unconvinced ; the fact and the con- 
 sequence will remain the same. If, on the other 
 hand, the Christian religion be false, which, how- 
 ever, in the face of so much evidence, can only be 
 supposed for the sake of argument ; yet what shall 
 we have lost by embracing and obeying it ? We 
 shall have lived according to the best law of our 
 nature, and we shall die with the most agreeable 
 
52 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 hopes ; nor will the disappointment of those hopes 
 occasion us a moment's pain — for we shall wake 
 no more to be conscious of it." 
 
 Upon this, Mr. Compton, with great emotion, 
 said to Mrs. Harrison, " Does Dr. Warton know, 
 my dear sister, what sort of a life I have led?" 
 
 " No doubt of it," she answered. " Being con- 
 stantly resident in this parish, and mixing, as he 
 does, with all ranks, he knows every thing of 
 every body. You have nothing to conceal from 
 him ; why should you hesitate, therefore, to talk 
 freely to him V 
 
 " If you are thoroughly acquainted with my 
 circumstances. Dr. Warton," he said, turning to- 
 wards me, but not venturing to meet my counte- 
 nance front to front, " you will understand pretty 
 well upon what principle I am acting. A person 
 who has lived as I have, has no comfort but in the 
 supposed falsehood of Christianity." 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Compton," I replied, " there 
 is no comfort for you but in the supposition of its 
 truth." 
 
 " How so. Sir?" he inquired hastily, and lifted 
 his eyes from the floor, and encountered mine ; 
 and then reiterated his question, " how so, I be* 
 seech you?" 
 
 " You confess yourself a sinner," I answered. 
 " The gospel, if true, is the religion of sinners ; 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 53 
 
 and it is its peculiar business, and professed object, 
 to save all sinners who believe, embrace, and trust 
 in it. This is precisely what you want; and it 
 should, therefore, be the ground of unutterable 
 comfort to you to suppose Christianity true. But, 
 if the Gospel be false, yet, as you cannot certainly 
 know it to be so, there is no comfort for sinners, 
 from the mere supposition of its falsehood ; unless 
 it be a comfort to them to think that perchance 
 they may die, like the beasts which perish, and so 
 be annihilated for ever !" 
 
 " Well," he said, interrupting me before I had 
 finished, " and is not that better than to think of 
 being tormented for ever?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly it is," I replied; "but still the 
 rational soul, if there be any spark of nobleness 
 about it, abhors annihilation, and would almost 
 prefer to abide the risk of eternal punishment, in 
 order to avoid the dreadful thought of being no 
 more to all eternity. Is annihilation indeed your 
 own choice; and is your love and desire of it the 
 baneful cause of this relentless warfare which you 
 wage against Christianity?" 
 
 Mr. Compton fetched a deep sigh, and answer- 
 ed, I am, perhaps, as capable as another of aspiring 
 to immortality; and the idea of annihilation, in 
 the abstract, spreads a gloomy horror over my 
 imagination, the same as it does to all men of an 
 
54 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 ingenuous spirit. But I prefer it, as the least evil 
 of two. A blissful immortality I suppose myself 
 incapable of obtaining; and, therefore, upon the 
 supposition of Christianity being true, my lot can 
 only be an immortality of wo. Is it any wonder, 
 then, that I should fear to be convinced of the 
 truth of a scheme, which threatens me with so 
 many horrors ? No, no ; I do not court or love 
 annihilation ; I shudder at the thoughts of " 
 
 Here for a moment his utterance was suspend- 
 ed ; but soon, by a sort of convulsive energy, he 
 finished the sentence, and ejaculated the tremen- 
 dous monosyllable, " Hell." 
 
 Mrs. Harrison turned pale, and seemed ready 
 to faint ; and, therefore, to relieve her, I took up 
 the conversation without a moment's delay. " Com- 
 pose yourself, my good Sir," I said, " and let us 
 try quietly to put this matter upon its right foot- 
 ing. We are straying, I think, from the exact 
 question, and bringing things into debate which 
 ought not to be brought in. Allow me to ask you 
 this ; will your wishing about any thing in any 
 particular way, or fearing about it in any particu- 
 lar way, or being convinced by probable argu- 
 ments in any particular way, make the thing to 
 be according to your wishes, your fears, or your 
 conviction?" 
 
 He granted that it would not. 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 55 
 
 " Does it not often happen," I asked again, 
 "that men wish, and fear, and are convinced, 
 exactly in opposite ways, about the same thmg? 
 " Certainly," he said. 
 
 •' Then," I rejoined, " it is clear, that both can- 
 not possibly be in the right." 
 He allowed it. 
 
 - There is, also," I said, " another thing to be 
 taken into account ; that not only may a thing be 
 true which you have convinced yourself by 
 probable arguments to be false ; but also the fact, 
 that other people are convinced by argument the 
 contrary way, must tend to weaken your own 
 conviction, and to create doubts in your mmd as 
 to the validity of it ; from whence I would mfer, 
 that it is next to impossible for you to arrive at a 
 firm unshaken conviction with respect to the false- 
 hood of Christianity. You may think that the 
 evidence against it preponderates over the evidence 
 for it- but, as your own judgment has no exclu- 
 sive privilege of being in the right, and as the 
 greatest of men in all ages, the Bacons, the 
 Boyles, the Lockes, the Addisons, the Newtons, 
 have come to the contrary conclusion, you must 
 think also, that the chances in favor of its truth 
 are strong against you; and, consequently you 
 will never be able to bring yourself to so full a 
 persuasion of what you wish, as to enjoy perfect 
 
56 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 peace and tranquillity in your own breast. This 
 I consider to be your case ; and on this idea I 
 said, that there is no comfort for you but in the 
 supposition of the truth of Christianity." 
 
 This way of putting the question seemed to 
 be new to him, and he was not prepared to answer 
 at once ; so I resumed the argument in this man- 
 ner. " You wish to arrive at the conviction that 
 Christianity is false. If you could do so, it might 
 not accomplish your purpose nevertheless, which 
 is to escape eternal punishment ; because, in spite 
 of your conviction, Christianity may be true, and 
 you may wake again in another world to prove it." 
 
 He seemed agitated while I said this, but I 
 continued thus : — " I assert, however, in the next 
 place, that you will never arrive at that convic- 
 tion. There is something in your own breast 
 that will never suffer it. God himself, I believe, 
 will never suffer it. A doubt, at least, about it, 
 will always torment you, when you recollect the 
 possibility of your being mistaken ; the muhitudes 
 of great and good men, who have examined the 
 subject and have been satisfied with it, living and 
 dying in the faith of Christ ; and the prodigious 
 weight of the evidence itself, which it is extremely 
 difficult for any man to gainsay, or resist. May 
 I ask, Mr. Compton, whether you are not, since 
 these recent conversations with me, at a greater 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 57 
 
 distance than ever from the conviction which you 
 wish to entertain ?" 
 
 " I am indeed," he confessed in a moment, and 
 without the slightest hesitation. " My suspicions 
 of the truth of Christianity increase daily." 
 
 "Then why resist increasing light ?". I said. 
 " Let me conjure you to endeavor to convert those 
 suspicions, and all your fears, into hopes. You 
 are laboring under an erroneous alarm, when you 
 assume that there is no hope for you if Christianity 
 be true. You have formed altogether a wrong 
 idea of the gospel, if you think yourself, on ac- 
 count of your sins, without the pale of salvation, 
 and reserved irreversibly for an immortality of 
 wo. The gospel preaches repentance for the re- 
 mission of sins to all." 
 
 Here he interrupted me with a deep sigh, and 
 exclaimed, " Ah ! Dr. Warton, there is the diffi- 
 culty ; insuperable I fear by me. I cannot repent 
 of my sins, and consequently I must not expect 
 remission of them. My gloomy anticipations, 
 therefore, are too well justified." 
 
 " You cannot repent?" I said. " Granted ; but 
 what has that to do with the rejection of Chris- 
 tianity ?• Why, if there were no such religion as 
 the Christian, if you were living by the light of 
 nature alone, you would have thought repentance 
 necessary, unless you reject a future state. Nay» 
 
58 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 tell me candidly, were you not, in the beginning 
 of our conversation this very day, on the point of 
 arguing, that our own reason, without a revela- 
 tion, would satisfy us of the necessity and of the 
 efficacy of repentance ? Your not being able to 
 repent, therefore, is not a valid reason for hesita- 
 ting to accept Christianity." 
 
 "It is very true," he replied; "but knowing 
 that repentance is the great doctrine of the gospel, 
 and thinking that, if it could be proved to be the doc- 
 trine of nature and reason, Ave shall have no need 
 of the gospel, in that respect at least, I was pre- 
 pared to argue thus." 
 
 " Very well," I said. " To make a rational 
 system, in which repentance shall be necessary 
 and useful, you would have assumed, no doubt, a 
 future state of retribution; and then repentance 
 comes in, does it not, to avert the punishment 
 which might otherwise have been inflicted in that 
 future state ?" 
 
 " That is the way in which I should have ar- 
 gued," he replied, " but it would be ridiculous to 
 do so now, when I stand confessed a sinner, an 
 impenitent, incorrigible sinner ; or corrected only, 
 as to the practice of sin, by the uncontrollable 
 effects of my disease, not by any voluntary change 
 of sentiment. No, no ! A state of retribution is 
 not a state of my choice, or a state for me ; nor is 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 59 
 
 repentance, which should be preparatory to it; 
 ahhough repentance and retribution may be a dis- 
 covery of that natural light which I might have 
 pretended to reckon sufficient for us." 
 
 " Repentance," I said, " in the way in which it 
 may be entirely useful to us, is not a discovery of 
 nature ; it is truly a Scripture doctrine. It is dis- 
 coverable, indeed, by human reason, (not that hu- 
 man reason ever actually discovered it,) that the 
 best thing which a wicked man can do, is to re- 
 pent ; so far nature may be supposed to dictate : 
 but it is from Scripture alone that we learn the full 
 extent of the efficacy of repentance, and why it is 
 efficacious at all, namely, because of the sufferings 
 and death of Jesus Christ. Then again, as to re- 
 tribution, you know very well that the notions of 
 the vulgar about it were mere fables and absurd- 
 ities ; you know, also, how the ancient philoso- 
 phers disputed about a future state, and that they 
 had no clear conceptions of it, — no, not even the 
 v/isest amongst them ; and very few amongst 
 them, indeed, had any idea of things being set 
 right in that state by a just apportionment of re- 
 wards and punishments. Socrates, perhaps, came 
 nearest to it. It was finely said by him, that for 
 a righteous man, whether living or dying, it must 
 be well ; and when he was pressed with the sup- 
 position, that in this life every possible calamity 
 
60 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 and injustice might befal his righteous man, he 
 seems to insinuate, on that very ground, that 
 another life was necessary to remedy the irregu- 
 larities of this ; to reward suffering virtue, and to 
 punish successful vice. But, in truth, the whole 
 business, in all its detail, is a matter of revelation. 
 Deeply thinking men, like Socrates, might have 
 caught some glimmerings of a reckoning to be 
 made hereafter ; — but of the awful day of a gene- 
 ral judgment, the great Judge himself, the sen- 
 tence which he will pronounce, and the everlasting 
 rewards and punishments to follow it; of these 
 they could have learnt nothing by reason and 
 argument ; — all these are purely doctrines of 
 Scripture. But this is scarcely to our present pur- 
 pose. You no longer consider it worth contend- 
 ing for, whether repentance and retribution be dis- 
 coveries of nature, or of the gospel ; if retribution 
 be to take place, and the sinner must be condemn- 
 ed without repentance, in whatever way he comes 
 to the knowledge of it, repentance is his great 
 sheet-anchor, and he must cling to it inseparably 
 to escape the wreck of his immortal soul." 
 
 "Aye, aye," he exclaimed, "but I should not 
 have allowed the immortality of the soul." 
 
 " No," I said, " nor the being of a God either, 
 for we must have come to that at last." 
 
 He blushed, but continued, " Perhaps not, if I 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 61 
 
 had persevered in the same sentiments with which 
 I set out this morning ; and I should have proba- 
 bly argued, that, unless the immortality of the soul 
 and the being of a God were established on the 
 firmest grounds, nothing else could be admitted 
 for a moment. Not that I do not myself think that 
 there is a God, and that the soul is immortal, in- 
 stinctively, as it were, when I reflect seriously 
 upon it ; but I foolishly fancied that it would be 
 ■ some relief to my mind, if, when the question was 
 argued, there should appear to be any failure of 
 proof But I yield so far ; the suspicion, I am 
 sure, would for ever haunt me ; I will debate it, 
 therefore, no more. There is a God; and the 
 soul, for me, shall be henceforth immortal, and con- 
 sequently destined to be judged hereafter for its 
 doings here. I grant this; and therefore also, 
 that, if possible, it must be cleansed by repent- 
 ance from the stains with which this world may 
 have defiled it. Repentance, then, I admit in 
 theory, but I do not find how to practise it. At 
 present my only sorrow is, that I can no longer 
 pursue the enjoyments which constituted my for- 
 mer happiness; and you will not deign, I pre- 
 sume, to call this repentance." 
 
 " No, indeed," I said, " I should betray you if 
 I did ; the truth must not be concealed from you 
 by me. That which you describe is no godly 
 6 
 
62 REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 sorrow, the fruit of real penitence ; it is a mere 
 worldly sorrow — a sorrow which produces death 
 and not life — which would destroy the soul to all 
 eternity, instead of cleansing it for eternal happi- 
 ness. But, strictly speaking, it is the blood of 
 Christ only which cleanses from all sin. No re- 
 pentance can undo, in any sense, what has once 
 been done. In Him, therefore, must you lay your 
 foundation ; you must build upon that rock ; from 
 faith towards Him must spring the true repentance, 
 which is never to be repented of itself This re- 
 pentance, believe me, is no merely human work, 
 and therefore as yet you have it not ; you seek it 
 not from above, from whence alone it comes, by 
 the instrumentality of the third person in the holy, 
 blessed, and glorious Trinity, who, with the Father 
 and the Son together, is one God. This doctrine 
 is no idle speculation, as you may now begin to feel 
 yourself" 
 
 " I remember," he said, " what is asserted 
 about this doctrine very well ; it appears exceed- 
 ingly extraordinary to me ; you lay the greatest 
 stress upon the divinity Of Jesus Christ, without 
 the acknowledgment of which you affirm that a 
 man wishing to be a Christian cannot stir a sin- 
 gle step ; in short, that he would have no induce- 
 ment to set about the task of repentance and re- 
 formation of life, because he could not know or 
 
REAL OBJECTION TO CHRISTIANITY. 63 
 
 suppose that any atonement for sin had been made. 
 I cannot describe to you how difficult all this ap- 
 pears to me ; you must go back, therefore, if you 
 please, to these points : but I am prepared, I as- 
 sure you, to listen to your explanations, or to de- 
 bate the matter with you, in a very different spirit 
 from what I had intended. Before, I trembled at 
 the idea of believing such things: now, I fear lest 
 I may never be brought to believe them." 
 
 I could not but rejoice at this declaration. It 
 opened a new ray of hope, for it seemed to show 
 that the unhappy man was convinced that wicked- 
 ness of heart and life, was the great difficulty 
 which had recently exerted its influence in keep- 
 ing him an enemy to Christianity. This is, all 
 the world over, the great difficulty in the way, 
 and when it is once removed, hope comes imme- 
 diately in. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 I SECRETLY thanked God for the change which 
 had already taken place in the tone and sentiment 
 of my sick friend, and implored his divine aid in 
 the great work which yet remained. Much in- 
 deed was done, but much was still to do, and could 
 only be done by the divine help. I acknowledge 
 that help already, for never did any conversation 
 begin with so little prospect of success as on this 
 day. In the very outset, it was turned out of the 
 channel in which the sceptic himself designed it 
 to proceed, and took a much more fortunate range, 
 as was proved by the event. But how to take 
 advantage of the present favorable posture of 
 things was the problem now to be solved, and be- 
 fore I had thought one single minute about it, the 
 coach stopped. We had arrived without being 
 aware of it on the ridge of a hill, which formed a 
 natural terrace of a considerable length, from 
 whence, on both sides, there was a rich, diversified 
 prospect of the surrounding country. On the 
 western side particularly, the scenery was strik- 
 ingly magnificent ; the declivity of the hill was 
 6* 
 
66 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 clothed with a fine hanging wood down to the 
 bottom, except that here and there some rugged 
 rocks, in various picturesque forms, started out 
 from amongst the trees, and filled the eye with 
 surprise and delight. Below, in the depths of the 
 valley, a river was winding along, of ample 
 dimensions, and all alive with sails. On its banks 
 were countless villas glittering in the sun. Tra- 
 cing the stream downwards, you saw it, at the 
 distance of some miles, approaching the great 
 town in our neighborhood, the spires and towers 
 of which were clearly discernible. Some blue 
 hills, very remote, made the back-ground of the 
 picture. 
 
 Such was the view from the carriage itself, 
 well able to charm away every sorrov^r, and to 
 disperse every gloom, but that of despair. Mr. 
 Compton was very desirous that his sister, who 
 was a stranger to it, should be conducted to va- 
 rious points not accessible but on foot ; and that 
 she should have time to admire every thing. I 
 took her, therefore, under my charge to the first 
 seat, a little below the brow of the hill, where a 
 glade, opened through the wood, let in the chief 
 features of the landscape. Whilst we were seated 
 there, Mr. Compton drove backwards and forwards 
 on the greensward at the top. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison was sufficiently awake to the 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 67 
 
 beauties of this enchanting scene ; but the state of 
 her brother was nearest to her heart ; so, after a 
 little delay, she said to me, " Indeed, Dr. Warton, 
 I flatter myself that we have advanced many steps 
 to-day. I had a little glimmering of hope in my 
 mind, when my brother made such an arrange- 
 ment as to leave Mr. Harrison at home, for he 
 feels toward him a degree of reserve which would 
 prevent him from unbosoming his real sentiments 
 in his presence, on so momentous a subject as 
 that of religion ; but the hope vanished, when he 
 refused to answer your questions ; and then again 
 was suddenly realized by the free, unexpected 
 declaration of his opinions, and still more by his 
 avowal of a determination to confer amicably with 
 you, and to relinquish all cavilling in your future 
 discussions on Christianity." 
 
 " Very well, my dear Madam," 1 replied ; 
 •• but how are we now to proceed ?" 
 
 " We depend entirely upon your judgment and 
 kindness," she answered; "but he has himself 
 pointed out some topics, which he wishes to under- 
 stand, and which are, at the same time, of essential 
 consequence to the faith and practice of every 
 Christian; you will, without doubt, be so good as 
 to go on with the work which you have begun, 
 and explain those topics to him." 
 
 ••By all means," I said; •'but what is to be 
 
bo THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 the mode of explanation? Will he admit the 
 Scriptures, and be satisfied with texts produced 
 out of them ? Or must we pursue a different 
 method?" 
 
 "I fear it will be necessary," she replied, "to 
 pursue a different method ? If he admits the Scrip- 
 tures, his conviction will be an easy task to you." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that,^^ I said : " it will 
 certainly be a most astonishing point gained ; but 
 he may dispute about the interpretation. Suppose 
 he were to say, when pressed with a text, that 
 different sects of religionists interpreted that text in 
 different ways, and then argue, that it is impos- 
 sible for him to know which is in the right?" 
 
 " He will yield, I think, to your authority, 
 Dr. Warton," she answered: "besides, you will 
 be able to cite the text in the original language ; 
 and as my brother was educated at Oxford, and 
 before that at a great school, I should hope that 
 he had not so entirely forgotten his Greek, as to 
 be incompetent to judge of your arguments." 
 
 " If that be the case," I said, " we shall pro- 
 ceed smoothly and rapidly, so far as the interpre- 
 tation is concerned. But to understand Chris- 
 tianity, and to be a Christian one's self, are almost 
 as wide from each other as east from west. 
 Whence is to come the Christian spirit ? But I 
 do not despair, with God's blessing." 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 69 
 
 " I trust not," she replied ; " so, if you please, we 
 will quit this beautiful spot, after taking another 
 hasty view of it, and return to the object of our 
 solicitude." 
 
 Upon this, she rose from the seat ; and when 
 I had told her to whom some of the most attractive 
 residences belonged, we re-ascended the hill ; and 
 having soon met the carriage, we resumed our 
 places in it, and the coachman was ordered to 
 drive homewards. Something was said about the 
 noble prospects which we had just been viewing, 
 and Mrs. Harrison thanked her brother for bring- 
 ing her to see them ; but the more important mat- 
 ter, which had engaged us before, seemed still to 
 be in possession of all our faculties. Mr. Comp- 
 ton himself was satisfied with making a very few 
 inquiries, and was evidently anxious to revert to 
 the former subject of conversation. I was ready 
 to follow wherever he might choose to lead me, 
 and I viraited to see if he would propose any 
 thing ; but before he did so, Mrs. Harrison, alarm- 
 ed at the waste of such precious moments, inter- 
 rupted the painful silence, and prepared the way 
 for the renewal of our religious discussions. 
 
 " Well, my dear brother," she said, " I am 
 longing to get back to the point at which we stop- 
 ped upon our arrival at this beautiful scene. I 
 find that 1 receive from these discussions an ac- 
 
70 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 cession to my knowledge, and a confirmation of 
 my faith. Will you mention, therefore, to Dr. 
 Warton, what chiefly presses upon your mind 
 under the present circumstances ?" 
 
 " I am thinking about it," was his answer ; 
 •♦ and it appears to me, that it would clear the road 
 for the reception of other things, if Dr. Warton 
 would enlarge a little upon repentance. It is a 
 dictate of nature, to a certain limit at least; al- 
 though I am aware that the main depen dance of 
 the heathens was upon sacrifice. If they offended 
 their gods, they looked to sacrifice, I believe, and 
 not to repentance, as the means of reconciliation 
 with them. How they came to think of sacri- 
 fices, which seem quite out of the way, and to 
 neglect repentance, which so slight an effort of 
 reason might have taught them, I am totally at a 
 loss to conjecture. However, in the course of 
 ages and the progress of discovery, which is the 
 same in morals as in other things, we may natur- 
 ally suppose that repentance would be discovered ; 
 and if a real reform took place in the lives of men, 
 what more could be desired? What need of 
 such a scheme as the Christian atonement, which 
 appears to me inexplicable ?" 
 
 " A plausible, if not a satisfactory, explanation 
 may be found," I said, " for the several matters 
 which you propose to me. With respect to sacri- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 71 
 
 fice, the origin may be doubtful ; but the rite itself 
 seems to point very clearly to the doctrine of atone- 
 ment. If men themselves were the inventors of 
 sacrifice, it is hardly possible, one should think, 
 but that they must have had a decided notion of 
 atoning for their sins by the death of another animal 
 in their own stead. By such a proceeding an ac- 
 knowledgment might have been implied, that they 
 deserved death in their own persons, but that they 
 trusted to the mercy of their deities to accept the 
 death of some less valuable living creature substi- 
 tuted for them. On the other hand, if sacrifice 
 was an original injunction of God himself, there 
 can be no doubt whatever of its being intended to 
 accustom the minds of men, from the beginning, to 
 the idea of an atonement ; that they might be the 
 better prepared to understand and accept the great 
 atonement that was made, by the one sacrifice of 
 Christ, once for all, for the sins of the whole 
 world ; when all other sacrifices were thenceforth 
 to be abolished, and men were in future to put 
 their trust in that alone. At all events, when God 
 selected the Jews for a particular purpose, he 
 adopted the rite of sacrifice ; and the sacred authors 
 tell us, that all the sacrifices of the Mosaic Law, 
 and that of the Paschal Lamb especially, were but 
 types or representatives of the sacrifice of Christ, to 
 which alone they owed all their efficacy. 
 
T2 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 •* With respect to repentance, which you think 
 so natural, if men fell into the way of sacrifice in 
 preference to it, though you cannot account for 
 sacrifice, you ought to conclude, that they were 
 aware of some great difficulty, or some great defect 
 in repentance, which occasioned them to neglect 
 it. The difficulty might be, that they were reluc- 
 tant to amend their lives ; and the defect, that re- 
 pentance was no atonement. Whatever might be 
 their future conduct, still they might expect to be 
 punished for the past ; and consequently there was 
 such a want of encouragement to abandon vice and 
 pursue virtue, that few resorted to repentance, and 
 still fewer proposed it as a remedy. But how dif- 
 ferent is the case under our holy religion ! Atone- 
 ment is the very corner-stone of the whole build- 
 ing ;* an atonement, too, not by the blood of bulls 
 and goats, which had no value, except in conse- 
 quence of God's appointment and promise ; but by 
 the blood of the Son of God, which had an inher- 
 ent value of its own, inestimable and infinite, and 
 was therefore adequate to purge away the sins of 
 all mankind. On the strength of this atonement, 
 however, we may lament the past, yet if we obey 
 God's righteous laws in future, we need not fear. 
 Another has been bruised for our iniquities ; the 
 sins of us all were laid on Him ; and by his stripes 
 we are healed. God is perfectly reconciled to us; 
 
 I 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 73 
 
 we may cast off the burdensome load of former 
 guilt which weighed us to the ground, and begin 
 a new career with unimpeded vigor and unin- 
 cumbered hopes. 
 
 Upon the whole, the doctrine of an atonement 
 seems to accord with the common sense of man- 
 kind ; and although, as I said early in the morn- 
 ing, they might have thought repentance the best 
 method of proceeding in cases of sin, yet they 
 could never have thought that even the most per- 
 fect repentance would undo the past, or, in other 
 words, be a sufficient reason to induce the Deity 
 to overlook it. A simple change of life does 
 nothing towards the vindication of God's violated 
 laws ; the divine sanction is trampled upon with 
 manifest impunity ; there is no punishment to 
 operate as an example to others, or a penalty to 
 the offenders themselves. This system, it is plain, 
 would not do for human governors, and much less 
 will it do for the great moral Governor of the uni- 
 verse. But by our gospel system his justice is 
 satisfied, and his wrath appeased ; and he can 
 now, therefore, without any impeachment of his 
 other attributes, exercise the lovely attribute of 
 mercy. He can pardon upon repentance." 
 
 When I had finished, Mrs. Harrison exclaimed 
 immediately, not waiting for Mr. Compton to 
 speak, " Now, my good brother, how does this 
 
74 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 matter appear to you 1 I confess at once, for my- 
 self, that I never saw it so clearly before. Dr. 
 Warton, you set out with telling us, that we were 
 only to expect a plausible solution of the suggested 
 difficulties ; at least you spoke with diffidence of 
 your being able to give a satisfactory one : but to 
 ifie, I assure you, this is quite satisfactory, and I 
 think it must be so to i/ou, brother." 
 
 So much ingenuousness on the part of Mrs. 
 Harrison appeared to produce a good effect on 
 Mr. Compton, and he said, " What you have ad- 
 vanced, Dr. Warton, appears certainly to be well 
 worthy of a most attentive consideration ; but the 
 Christian scheme would be more intelligible to 
 me, if it were merely an abolition of the tedious 
 and costly ceremonies of sacrifice ; a confirmation 
 of what nature prompted in respect to repentance ; 
 and the admission of it as the cancelling of the 
 past. Then I would accept Jesus Christ for a 
 person divinely commissioned to republish, in its 
 best form, and with its greatest force, the whole 
 law of nature, and more particularly the essential 
 doctrine of the efficacy of repentance; to give 
 mankind clearer and more consistent notions of a 
 future state of rewards and punishments ; and to 
 bear witness to his own sincerity, and to the truth 
 of what he preached, by his sufferings and death. 
 This I can understand very well ; when I go out 
 
 I 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 75 
 
 of these bounds, I am like a man wading beyond 
 his depth in some dark and fathomless ocean." 
 
 " Then," I said, " you would consider Jesus 
 Christ (setting aside his divine mission) in the 
 same light as you would Socrates, or rather, per- 
 haps, as Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer ; as a mar- 
 tyr, and not a Redeemer and Savior ?" 
 
 " I would," he answered ; " that is the easiest 
 way of viewing the matter, and of explaining it." 
 
 " It may seem so," I said, " at first sight, per- 
 haps, and theoretically, if you leave the Scriptures 
 out of the question. But have you thought at all 
 how to get rid of the Scriptures, or of the particu- 
 lar passages which militate directly against your 
 theory, or how to reconcile them with it ?" 
 
 " No, I have not," he confessed ; " my theory 
 is but just come into my imagination, in conse- 
 quence of our recent conferences." 
 
 " Well, then, I must tell you," I said, " that 
 the gospel is totally irreconcilable with such a 
 theory, nor could you make it otherwise by any 
 efforts whatever. The doctrines and the history 
 are so interwoven together, that you cannot sepa- 
 rate them without destroying the whole. It is 
 like the coat woven throughout, from the top to 
 the bottom, without a seam ; it is not to be parted ; 
 you may cast lots upon it, if you please, but you 
 must take all or none," 
 
76 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 Here I paused for his answer ; and, after ap- 
 pearing to turn the matter over in his thoughts for 
 a few moments, he said, " I am not disposed to 
 debate with you to-day the genuineness of the 
 Scriptures. That there was such a person as 
 Jesus Christ ; that he was the founder of the 
 Christian religion ; and that he was put to death 
 by crucifixion, we know from heathen authors ; 
 and I believe that all the further information which 
 we have about himself and his religion, in the 
 vast variety of books that have been written upon 
 the subject, is either fabulous or taken from the 
 Scriptures themselves. At all events, I will admit 
 them for the present, as the fountain head from 
 which we must draw materials for argument." 
 
 " To come to the point then at once," I said, 
 "take that memorable text, which I have already 
 quoted for another purpose; having mentioned it 
 before, it suggests itself first to my mind now : — 
 • God so loved the world, that he gave his only 
 begotten Son, to the end that all v>^ho believe in 
 him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 
 Now, what a number of particulars have we here, 
 which are quite inexplicable on your supposition. 
 First, Jesus Christ is not simply a man, like one 
 of the prophets or martyrs. Secondly, he is the 
 Son of God in so peculiar and appropriate a 
 sense, as to be God's only begotten Son. Thirdly, 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 77 
 
 it is necessary to believe in liim, a distinction 
 which none of the prophets or martyrs ever arro- 
 gated to themselves. Fourthly, the consequence 
 of believing in him is two-fold ; an escape from 
 perishing like brutes, or from being punished eter- 
 nally like the devils ; and the attainment of immor- 
 tality, or of infinite bliss and glory. And fifthly, 
 that God gave him to the v^rorld, because he loved 
 the world in an extraordinary degree, and for the 
 very purpose that the world might believe in him, 
 and thus be saved from wrath and admitted into 
 grace. Whether we comprehend these things or 
 not, makes no difference now ; this is the brief 
 outline of the Christian religion, and you cannot 
 square it to your theory. The single expression, 
 that God gave him, leads inevitably to the most 
 momentous conclusions — Gave him for what? 
 Undoubtedly, to diQ. And why to die ? That 
 men may believe in him, you are expressly told. 
 Yes ; and what is more, that their belief in him 
 may purchase for them the astonishing gift of ever- 
 lasting life. But what has their believing in him, 
 as a person who died, to do with their own attain- 
 ment of life 1 Ah ! Mr. Compton, in what other 
 way shall we attempt to explain this, but as the 
 rest of the Scriptures explain it ? Why, he died 
 for them ; his death was the atonement for their 
 sins ; and by their faith in him they are put into a 
 
78 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 capacity of reaping the benefits of that death, 
 which are, freedom from guilt and punishment, 
 and restoration to righteousness, happiness, and 
 immortality." 
 
 After saying so much I stopped, as before, to 
 ascertain whether he was satisfied, or not ; but 
 before he had determined what his reply should 
 be, Mrs. Harrison interposed, and reminded us of 
 the form in which our blessed Lord and Savior 
 had instituted the holy sacrament of his body and 
 blood. "Upon presenting the bread, his words 
 were, • Take, eat, this is my body, which is given 
 for you ;' and upon presenting the wine, his words 
 were, ' This is my blood of the New Testament, 
 which is shed for you, and for many, for the re- 
 mission of sins.' " 
 
 " They are decisive," I said, "both that his be- 
 ing given implied his death, and that his death was 
 a sacrifice — the shedding of his blood for the re- 
 mission of sins marks the atonement incontestably ; 
 and it is the general doctrine of Scripture, that 
 without the shedding of blood, there is no remis- 
 sion. What is your opinion of this, Mr. Compton?" 
 
 " That all the heathens," he answered, " trust- 
 ed in their sacrifices, I have allowed already, and 
 it cannot be denied; and the Jews also did the 
 same. No\A^ might not Jesus Christ, being a 
 Jew, have taken advantage of this feature in the 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 79 
 
 Jewish law, and so represent his own death as to 
 make it appear to accord with that law, as well as 
 with the prejudices of the heathens?" 
 
 " What ?" I said ; " before his death took place? 
 If his partisans had done this after his death, he 
 himself having given no hint of it during his life, 
 the objection might have been worth considering. 
 But in the way in which you put it, it is not ten- 
 able for a moment. Besides, the very supposition 
 that he represented things differently from what 
 they really were, insinuates that he was an im- 
 postor or an enthusiast ; an impostor, if he know- 
 ingly stated an untruth ; an enthusiast, if he ever 
 fancied himself to be appointed as a sacrifice and 
 atonement for the sins of mankind, whilst he had 
 no claim to so sublime an office. But his whole 
 character, and all his actions, and all the rest of 
 his doctrines, and every precept which he deliver- 
 ed, negative at once the insinuation of imposture 
 and enthusiasm. He preached and was the pat- 
 tern of every virtue ; he performed miracles ; he 
 foretold future events ; he foretold his own death, 
 exactly as it occurred ; and I must, therefore, be- 
 lieve that his death was what he represented it 
 to be." 
 
 "Well, Dr. Warton," he said, "suppose we 
 relinquish this charge for the present. I should 
 be glad to know whether the oriental manner of 
 
80 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 speaking figuratively will not account for a great 
 deal, without resorting to such difficult doctrines, 
 which, in fact, rest upon the mere letter. In the 
 institution of the sacrament, for instance, which 
 my sister has just mentioned, you dispute against 
 the Roman Catholics, for a figurative in prefer- 
 ence to a literal meaning." Then, like a person 
 pleased with a new thought, which he imagines 
 will work wonders, he added, " I suspect, that if 
 this figurative mode of speaking be well consider- 
 ed, it would enable us to solve, in a simple man- 
 ner, much that is perplexing to the intellect, and 
 revolting to our most deeply rooted feelings, if 
 taken literally." 
 
 •* It has been well considered long ago," I an- 
 swered ; "and with respect to the prophetical parts 
 of the Bible, which are most figurative, it is not 
 difficult to establish certain rules, by which the 
 true meaning may be fixed. Sometimes the pro- 
 phecy itself is afterwards explained, as our Savior 
 explained his parables • sometimes one part of a 
 prophecy, which is dark, is explained by another 
 part which is clear ; sometimes, again, one whole 
 obscure prophecy is illustrated by others which 
 are less so ; and there are various ways besides, 
 which might be mentioned, if it were necessary to 
 go fully into the subject. You may conceive, 
 therefore, how the language of prophecy comes at 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 81 
 
 length to be pretty well understood : but with re- 
 spect to the doctrines of the New Testament, the 
 same modes are not so applicable. Indeed, the 
 expression is in general not figurative, but per- 
 fectly simple. I do not mean, however, that one 
 thing does not help to explain another ; or that 
 parts of a thing may not help to explain the whole; 
 but only that no general rules of interpretation can 
 precisely be laid down. Take an example from 
 what Mrs. Harrison suggested to us. Our Lord 
 said, that no man could be saved without eating 
 his flesh and drinking his blood ; and this appear- 
 ed to many of his followers to be a doctrine so 
 hard of digestion, that they absolutely abandoned 
 him rather than embrace it. Yet he told them, 
 in that particular case, that his words were not to 
 be interpreted literally, although he did not then 
 tell them what the true meaning was. And per- 
 haps we should never have known it, if it had not 
 been afterwards explained by the institution of the 
 sacrament of the bread and wine, which he called 
 his body and blood, and which he enjoined us all 
 to eat and drink, in memory of his death, to the 
 end of the world. Thus every difficulty arising 
 from the figurative mode of expression might well 
 be supposed to have been entirely cleared away. 
 But the Roman Catholics were not willing to 
 think so, and they will still have that to be literal. 
 
82 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 which he insinuated to be spiritual, or figurative ; 
 and consequently, they invented, and continue to 
 uphold, their doctrine of transubstantiation, to ex- 
 plain the words, 'this is my body,' and 'this is my 
 blood.' Here, however, for the right explanation 
 of these expressions, we may justly refer them to 
 the innumerable similar forms of expression, 
 which are undoubtedly figurative ; ' I am the 
 vine ;' ' I am the gate,' and a thousand others. 
 The meaning of these is evident at once ; and I 
 do not see why the meaning of the sacrament 
 form should puzzle any body more than they do. 
 " Take another instance of a doctrine which 
 has been also previously mentioned ; ' I and my 
 Father are one.' Viewing this in the abstract, it 
 might mean, first, I and my Father are one Per- 
 son ; but when we go to the original, and observe 
 that the expression is h and not £k we give up 
 that interpretation at once. Next then it must 
 mean, I and my Father are one thing ; but in 
 what sense one thing ? There is some union be- 
 tween them undoubtedly ; but whether a union of 
 sentiment only, or of substance, and consequently 
 of sentiment too, we cannot decide by this passage 
 alone. If it be a union of substance which we of 
 this church affirm, then the expression iv is lite- 
 ral ; if it be a union of sentiment only, the expres- 
 sion is figurative ; and we cannot decide the ques- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 83 
 
 tion, without a comparison of this passage with 
 others, and, perhaps, not without a large view of 
 the whole gospel. 
 
 " You will perceive hy these examples that 
 your suggestion has been attended to, when the 
 reason of the thing demands it, and when it is 
 warranted by the rest of Scripture ; but in the case 
 of the doctrine of the atonement, the expressions 
 seem to admit but of a single meaning, and that 
 the literal one. Those expressions too are to be 
 met with perpetually. The very word ' ransom' 
 defies, I think, the possibility of perversion, and 
 settles the question for ever. ' He gave his life a 
 ransom for many.' How can you, by any stretch 
 of ingenuity, interpret this otherwise than that 
 the death of Christ was in the stead of the death 
 of others?" 
 
 " That is a very strong term, certainly," he re- 
 plied, in a tone of moderation, " nor, do I know 
 how to rebut your interpretation of it ; but I can- 
 not so easily reconcile myself to the doctrine, 
 which, in its literal sense, it implies. After all, 
 however, if a ransom were necessary, or expedi- 
 ent, might it not have been paid by a mere man, 
 supposing him to be a man of perfect justice, and 
 one who fulfilled the whole moral law of virtue 
 and goodness !" 
 
 " Unfortunately," I said, " your scheme abounds 
 
84 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 with insuperable difficulties. First, where will 
 you find such a man? The world never produ- 
 ced a being of that sort ; and there is an end of the 
 matter. But, secondly, if you could find such a 
 person, how would his life or death operate as 
 an atonement for others? Will you adopt the 
 Roman Catholic notion, and assume, that he might 
 perform works of supererogation, and so leave be- 
 hind him an abundant stock of merit, out of which 
 the deficiency of all others may be supplied for 
 ever ? No, no ; this is too ridiculous. I ask you, 
 is not every man, in every situation in which he 
 may be placed, under a sort of moral obligation, to 
 act according to the most perfect law of his nature, 
 or according to the best light which he enjoys?" 
 
 He allowed it, 
 
 " Can he then," I asked again, "do more than 
 his duty, or more than is proper and right for 
 himself?" 
 
 " I believe," he answered, " that I must grant 
 he cannot," 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " his power of making 
 an atonement for others is quite out of the ques- 
 tion. It vanishes at once, and we are compelled 
 to resort to some one, who is more than man ; to 
 some one, who, possessing indeed the human na- 
 ture, and executing in that nature, by the help of a 
 divine Spirit residing within him, every particle of 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 85 
 
 the moral law of righteousness, has something far 
 greater and better to offer for the fallen race of 
 mankind, to propitiate an offended God, and to re- 
 concile Him to them ; even the transcendant, un- 
 speakable merit of a Bemg, who, having himself 
 the form of God, hesitated not to empty himself of 
 all his eternal splendor and glory, to hide himself 
 under a poor degraded vesture of mortal flesh, and 
 to submit to pain, and ignominy, and death ; thus 
 becoming a sacrifice, infinite in value, and com- 
 mensurate with the infinite extent of sin. O what 
 an argument for love, and obedience, on our parts ! 
 O what a pattern of condescension and humility, 
 for us to imitate in our conduct to our fellow crea- 
 tures ! But, above all, what a lesson of awe and 
 fear ! How forcibly calculated to inspire us with 
 a thorough hatred and abhorrence of sin; that 
 monstrous evil, which God would not, or could 
 not pardon, without a sacrifice, so wonderfully, so 
 incomparably great !" 
 
 Just at this moment the carriage stopped at the 
 Rectory, and so, without waiting for any reply, I 
 jumped out, and left them. 
 
 Reflecting afterwards upon this long conver- 
 sation, when I was sitting quietly at home, in the 
 course of the same day, I could not but flatter my- 
 self, that, upon the whole, great good had been 
 
86 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 done. That he was convinced upon all the 
 branches of the subject which he had discussed, I 
 was far from thinking ; but that his mind was sa- 
 tisfied upon some points, and his opinions shaken 
 upon others, I had no doubt whatever. With 
 respect to a real, practical repentance, I did not yet 
 expect it. More pain and suffering, and less chance 
 of returning to the world, seemed necessary to 
 wean him from it in a sufficient degree to make a 
 solid basis for an effectual change of his heart and 
 affections. But things, I trusted, were in the right 
 train, if it might please God to prolong his life for 
 a certain period. A sudden death, however, was 
 to be feared ; and a sudden death would probably 
 ruin every thing. Under all these circumstances, 
 therefore, delay was dangerous, and most sedu- 
 lously to be avoided ; yet events could not be hast- 
 ened, nor opportunities be created at will. 
 
 With these impressions, I called very early 
 in the afternoon of the following day. I was in- 
 formed that Mr. Compton, after a restless night, had 
 got up late, and was laid as usual on the sofa, and 
 had no spirit to attempt any thing else. Orders, 
 however, had been given that no visitors should be 
 denied admittance to him ; so Mr. Harrison, with- 
 out scruple, conducted me to him at once : but he 
 was unable to satisfy my curiosity as to the results 
 of yesterday. Mr. Compton, he said, had been 
 
THE MAIN AUGUMENT. 87 
 
 very silent and thoughtful during the whole even- 
 ing after his return from the drive, and had made 
 no remark, even to his sister, upon the conversa- 
 tion which had passed, although she tried often to 
 lead him to it. Yet it was evident that he was 
 fall of it, and that his mind was deeply at work 
 upon the grave matters which had been debated 
 between us. Nor had night and solitude, as far 
 as Mr. Harrison could ascertain, afforded any 
 truce to his troubled thoughts. 
 
 Being hastily informed of these particulars as 
 we ascended the staircase, I expressed my fears 
 upon first seeing him, lest yesterday's ride might 
 have been too much for his strength ; but he as- 
 sured me that he had felt no unusual iatigue in 
 consequence of it, and that, as for sleepless 
 nights, they were his almost constant companions : 
 ♦' and I hope," he said, " that I have profited by 
 the last, in mind at least, if not in body." Upon 
 this I was all attention to hear what account he 
 would give of himself, and without doubt he 
 would have proceeded to gratify my eager desire 
 of getting to the bottom of his feelings, had not a 
 servant at this very moment announced the name 
 of Mr. Langstone. 
 
 " Where is he ?" cried Mr. Compton. 
 
 " He is on horseback at the door," answered the 
 servant ; " and he bade me say, Sir, that he wish- 
 ed very much to see y'^u." 
 
88 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 "Bj^ all means, then, bring him up," said Mr. 
 Compton. 
 
 " But what shall we do with you, Dr. War- 
 ton ?" he added, when the servant had disappeared. 
 "Mr. Langstone is rather brisk in his manners, 
 and, I fear, has no respect for the clergy, to whose 
 society he has been entirely unaccustomed ; and 
 he will probably assail me with many an arrow 
 out of his quiver of raillery, if he should discover 
 that I have talked so much of late with you. Will 
 you call another time, or will you step into the ad- 
 joining room, and wait till he goes?" 
 
 " I will stay where I am," I replied, " if you 
 will allow me. I am curious to see this redoubted 
 knight, and perhaps I shall break a lance with 
 him, I know his character full well." 
 
 Mr. Compton was rather alarmed when he 
 heard my determination ; but before he could 
 attempt to change it, Mr. Langstone entered, and 
 exclaimed, as he rapidly approached the sofa, 
 " Well, Compton, how are you, my good fellow ? 
 Better, I hope, and likely to be amongst us again 
 soon. But where is Laura, 'amata nobis, quan- 
 tum amahitur nulla ?^^^ Mr. Compton held out 
 his hand, but said nothing. He was vexed, as I 
 supposed, that I should discover with what sort of 
 persons, and how he had spent his days ; but he 
 evidently feared still more lest he should be cover- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 89 
 
 ed with shame, when his weakness in admitting 
 a clergyman to converse with him on matters of 
 religion should become known to this blunt and 
 profligate votary of pleasure. And that Mr. Lang- 
 stone would both blab every thing, and find out 
 every thing, he had little doubt ; so heedless was 
 he of character, and so likely to pester him with 
 questions about Laura, and his present plans, and 
 what not. 
 
 Mr. Langstone grasped Mr. Compton's hand, 
 and exclaimed again, " What, man, not a word to 
 greet ftie after two month's absence? Not a word 
 about yourself? No Laura, as in the good old 
 times ?" 
 
 At last the sick man said, " Oh, Langstone, I 
 have been very ill ! The game was nearly up, 
 and the lamps put out ! I totter still on the brink 
 of the grave!" 
 
 " Come, come," cried the other, " cheer up, 
 man! you w^ill not die this bout, I warrant you." 
 
 Then suddenly turning round, and seeing 
 Mr. Harrison and me, who had risen upon his en- 
 trance, and had not reseated ourselves, " What," 
 he said, " are these your doctors ? why, I believe, 
 I have dropped in upon you in the midst of a 
 consultation. Well, gentlemen, what is your 
 opinion of my friend's case?" 
 
 He would have run on, but seeing us look very 
 8* 
 
90 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 grave, he stopped short in his career, and Mr. 
 Compton immediately said, pointing to each of us 
 in succession, " That is Mr. Harrison, my brother- 
 in-law, and this is Dr. Warton." 
 
 Upon this Mr. Langstone bowed slightly to 
 Mr. Harrison, and when I was prepared for the 
 same civility, he drawled out in the attitude of one 
 thinking, " Dr. Warton 7 Why, is not Dr. War- 
 ton the parson of your parish, whom we used 
 
 to I beg his pardon; the rector I should 
 
 have called him." 
 
 "Oh! it does not matter. Sir," I said, smiling; 
 " if you look into Blackstone, you will find that 
 parson is the more honorable title." 
 
 And then addressing myself to Mr. Compton, 
 I told him that his friend, Mr. Langstone, seemed 
 to expect to find an M. D. rather than a D. D. by 
 his side ; but that there were times, perhaps, when 
 the D. D. might be the most useful, although I 
 hoped that in his case the M. D. might be useful too. 
 
 Mr. Compton shook his head, and said, " Well, 
 well : sit down all of you. What will become of 
 me is very doubtful. But I must introduce you, 
 Langstone, to Dr. Warton. If he were not pre- 
 sent, I would describe him to you." 
 
 " You have often done it," exclaimed Lang 
 stone sneeringly, and interrupting him. " Which 
 description am I to abide by, that of Compton 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 91 
 
 well, or that of Compton sick ? That of the cour- 
 ageous or that of the timorous Compton ? That 
 of the enemy or that of the slave to superstition?" 
 
 This was a difficult attack for Mr. Compton 
 to parry. It disconcerted and abashed him, 
 and the more so, because he had been every mo- 
 ment in expectation of it, and he was yet too much 
 of a novice in the ways of religion to withstand 
 even a single sarcasm. The seed had fallen up- 
 on ground which lacked moisture and depth of 
 soil, and therefore was too likely to wither away 
 upon the first attack of heat. 
 
 With the hope of being able to throw a shield 
 before him, I interposed and said, " It is no won- 
 der, if men see things with a different eye in sick- 
 ness and in health; nor does it follow that the 
 courage which health inspires, is a wise courage, 
 or the fear which is inspired by sickness a foolish 
 fear. Another thing, too, I have generally ob- 
 served — ^that the enemies of true religion are the 
 greatest slaves to superstition. Have you none of 
 these, Mr. Langstone, amongst your own acquaint- 
 ance? Mr. Compton, I dare say, has ridiculed 
 me often under other circumstances. I beg he 
 will make no excuses about it. His change of 
 conduct is the best apology ; and I trust that he 
 will have no cause to regret, but every cause to 
 rejoice, in that change. If his fears have wrought 
 
92 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 upon him, I admire and applaud his present fears 
 more than his former courage. I will venture to 
 use a strong term : his former courage was no- 
 thing but fool-hardihood. The approach of death 
 is terrible to all. What must it be to one who 
 knows not whither he is going ? It has pleased 
 God, merciful in the midst of severity, to show 
 Mr. Compton his irresistible power, without strik- 
 ing him to the ground ; and Mr. Compton has the 
 wisdom to look to the hand which inflicts the 
 blow with awe and fear; and to reflect within 
 himself, and to advise with persons of supposed 
 competence (with the parson, if you will,) upon 
 the steps which are to be taken by one in his pre- 
 carious condition. It is too desperate a plunge to 
 be made blindfold. So thought Lord Rochester — 
 one of the wittiest and most profligate of men, 
 whilst his courage, as you call it, supported him ; 
 but, at length, when assailed by the King of Ter- 
 rors, a willing, and a patient, and a humble listener 
 to the arguments and the counsels of a Christian 
 bishop." 
 
 Thus I spoke, with very little idea of pro- 
 ducing any good effect upon Mr. Langstone, but 
 with the greatest of doing good to Mr. Compton ; 
 into whom I endeavored to infuse right sentiments 
 by a sidewind, as it were, and by assuming that he 
 acted on the principles which I conceived to be 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 93 
 
 proper for him. He made no remark ; nor did 
 Mr. Langstone at once. All he did at first was 
 to stare with astonishment; sometimes at me, 
 sometimes at Mr. Compton, sometimes at Mr. 
 Harrison. But very soon suspecting by our 
 countenances, I suppose, that we were all in ear- 
 nest, and all of the same opinion, he exclaimed, 
 " Upon my honor, Dr. Warton, it makes no dif- 
 ference to you, I perceive, whether you are in or 
 out of your pulpit, or with or without your sur- 
 plice. You can preach equally well in any place, 
 and in any garb. But as you mention that fel- 
 low Rochester — that most cowardly of all pol- 
 troons, that base betrayer and belier of his own 
 principles, of the principles of his whole life — I 
 must tell you, that Compton and I have long ago 
 made up our minds about his character ; and that 
 we thoroughly despise him, mean wretch as he 
 was!" 
 
 The acrimony and the malignity with which 
 Mr. Langstone uttered this philippic against Lord 
 Rochester are quite indescribable. He almost 
 gnashed his teeth with rage; and whilst the 
 storm lasted, none of us attempted to speak ; but 
 having had its vent, it soon subsided ; and he re- 
 sumed in a milder tone, 
 
 " No, no. Sir ! we shall not imitate this hero 
 of yours, whom the men of your black cloth are 
 
94 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 SO fond of quoting ; Ave are made of firmer stuff — 
 I and Compton ; we have none of those woman- 
 ish fears." 
 
 " God only knows," I said, with solemnity, 
 ' God only know^s, who shall be indulged and 
 blessed with the opportunity of imitating Lord 
 Rochester ! They who wish for it, may wish for 
 it too late ; they who seek after it, may seek too 
 late; and they who disdain the thought of it, 
 must abide the perilous issue. It is throwing the 
 dice for their lives: or rather, I should say, for 
 their souls!" Then relaxing into a different 
 tone, I continued thus : " But why, Mr. Lang- 
 stone, should you make so sure of Mr. Compton's 
 opinions on this point ? A wise man changes his 
 opinions according to circumstances, and as new 
 light breaks in upon him. May not Mr. Compton, 
 therefore, think differently now of Lord Rochester 
 from what he did formerly, in the same manner, 
 as it is plain by your seeing me here, that he 
 thinks differently of me ?" 
 
 " Nothing is too absurd to happen," he cried 
 indignantly ; " why Compton has you here by 
 his side, he can best explain. Neither he nor I 
 had any personal dislike to you, Dr. Warton ; for 
 we had no acquaintance with you whatever. It 
 is the genus, not the individual, against which we 
 bear arms, and would emancipate mankind, if we 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 95 
 
 could, from their leading-strings. I tell you this 
 fairly and openly ; I am not a man of conceal- 
 ment. Oh, what mischiefs has Christianity pro- 
 duced in the world! and the clergy alone bolster 
 it up from falling ! They have bestridden us, and 
 kept us in disgraceful subjection for ages. But 
 with respect to Rochester, the foolish story about 
 him pretends to tell us, that the prophecies, for- 
 sooth, converted him. Truly, if it were so, the 
 man's intellect must have been turned topsy-turvy, 
 as I rather indeed suspect ; for never was there 
 such a farrago of nonsense as those self-styled 
 prophecies. I and Compton examined them 
 together. Dr. Warton ; and I know he agrees with 
 me, that they are a heap of confusion, a mass of 
 unintelligible, unconnected, incoherent rhapsodies 
 — darker than the darkest oracles of the heathens 
 themselves. If Rochester's conversion arose 
 from these, Compton, I am confident, can never 
 agree with him, or stoop to the same degradation." 
 Thus he went on, in his own peculiar, dogmatical 
 style, unused to contradiction, and expecting to 
 bear down all before him. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mr. Langstone," I said coolly, in 
 reply, " that you have not given yourself sufficient 
 time to study the prophecies. May I be permitted 
 to ask, whether you understand the original lan- 
 guage in which they were written?" 
 
96 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 "What, the Hebrew? Not I, indeed," he 
 answered petulantly. 
 
 " But," I asked again, " you have read, I pre- 
 sume, some or all of the great commentators, who 
 have explained the prophecies?" 
 
 " I read those musty folios and quartos !" he 
 replied, as before. " No, in truth, I have not been 
 guilty of such a waste of my eyes and my time, 
 which have been better employed." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Langstone," I said, "but you have 
 looked at least into Lowth's translation of Isaiah, 
 which is neither musty by age, nor ponderous in 
 size, for it may be had in the convenient and invit- 
 ing shape of an octavo ?" 
 
 He now became seriously angry upon being 
 convicted of having taken no pains to understand 
 what he had so harshly condemned ; and he, 
 therefore, asserted, with the greater positiveness 
 and obstinacy, that " it would be the most absurd 
 thing imaginable to sit down to study that which 
 no study could render intelligible." 
 
 " But Lowth," I said, " and many of the other 
 translators and commentators, were men of im- 
 mense learning, and prodigious talents, were they 
 not?" 
 
 " They may be," he replied, " for what I know 
 to the contrary. One thing I am sure of, that I shall 
 never trouble myself to discover their blunders." 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 97 
 
 " Well," I said, " whether they blundered or 
 not, at least they must have supposed that the 
 prophecies were capable of being made intelligible, 
 by the help of translations, of notes, of commenta- 
 ries, of criticisms, of paraphrases, of dissertations. 
 Do not their very labors prove this ?" 
 
 " It matters not one hair what they supposed," 
 he answered impatiently ; " I stick to plain com- 
 mon sense, out of which I shall never be argued. 
 Besides, was not Lowth advanced to the rank and 
 wealth of a bishop? His evidence, therefore, is 
 interested, and must be set aside. I suspect there 
 are few of his cloth who would not attempt to prove 
 that black is white for the sake of a bishopric." 
 
 "Set him aside, then," I said, "at once and 
 without scruple, as well as all the rest of his fra- 
 ternity. But there was one Newton, who wrote 
 a dissertation upon the prophecies ; not the emi- 
 nent bishop of that name, who also wrote upon 
 the same subject, but a much more eminent man — 
 indeed the most eminent, perhaps, whom the 
 world had seen, Sir Isaac I mean : that illustrious 
 mathematician, who dived into the depth of Na- 
 ture, and ascended victorious up to Nature's God ; 
 a layman too ; no candidate for rich pluralities, or 
 bishoprics ; simple-minded, like a child, but in 
 power of reasoning, mighty as a giant ; in grasp 
 of intellect, sublime as an angel ; what shall we 
 9 
 
98 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 do with Aim ? Shall we set him aside also, as a 
 hypocrite, or an idiot ; or shall we not rather bow, 
 as to a superior being-, who bent the whole force 
 of his vast and comprehensive genius to the ex- 
 planation of the works and the word of God alike?" 
 
 Mr Langstone not seeming to know exactly 
 how to dispose of Newton, Mr. Compton inter- 
 posed and said, " We, who stand up for reason, 
 Langstone, must take care to have reason on 
 our side, and not to go against her. We cannot, 
 therefore, deny the great authority of Newton ; 
 who must have thought the prophecies capable of 
 being explained, and also of high consequence, or 
 he would never have interrupted his mathematical 
 pursuits, which brought him so much glory, for 
 the sake of attending to those prophecies. But 
 certainly, Dr. Warton, upon a cursory view of 
 them, they did appear to wc, as my friend Lang- 
 stone has just stated, very obscure, very incohe- 
 rent, and generally unintelligible. However, there 
 is no wonder that men attached to Christian^ 
 ity, whether from laudable or blameable motives, 
 should attempt to explain them; for Christianity 
 cannot stand without them." 
 
 " Very true," exclaimed Mr. Langstone, some- 
 what relieved by the latter part of Mr. Compton's 
 speech : " this accounts perfectly for all the mis 
 placed labors of so many bigots; but the pro- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 99 
 
 phecies are lame legs for any thing- to stand 
 upon." 
 
 " It is the more marvellous, then," I said, " that 
 Christianity has stood so long upon such a rotten 
 foundation, and seems likely to stand to the end of 
 time. But how do you assert that Christianity can- 
 not stand without the prophecies, Mr. Compton?" 
 
 " I mean," he answered, " that the evidence of 
 prophecy, be it what it may, is relied upon as one 
 of the strongest." 
 
 " A revelation from God," I said, " abstractedly 
 speaking, requires not to be attested by evidence 
 of any particular sort. All that is absolutely 
 necessary is, that it should be attested by sufficient 
 evidence of some sort or other. Now, miracles 
 do this for Christianity ; and, therefore, all other 
 evidences, and prophecies amongst the rest, might 
 appear to be ex abundanti, and supererogatory; 
 and, consequently, not worthy of all that learning 
 and talent vi^hich have been expended upon them. 
 But the fact is, that Jesus Christ himself appealed 
 to the prophecies in proof of his being the Mes- 
 siah, and therefore we are bound to search the 
 prophecies, to try his pretensions by his own test, 
 and to see whether his appeal be founded in truth. 
 If he had claimed to be simply a divine Messen- 
 ger, miracles would have been enough for him ; 
 but he claimed to be the Messiah, a particular 
 
100 THE MAIN ARGUMENT, 
 
 divine Messenger, supposed to be promised and 
 described in the prophecies; and, therefore, we 
 must of necessity look into those prophecies, to 
 ascertain whether he corresponds to the descrip- 
 tion there given of the Messiah, or not; and if w^e 
 find no traces of him there, then, indeed, his re- 
 ligion cannot stand. It is important to understand 
 this matter rightly, and therefore I have tried to 
 place it on the proper footing." 
 
 Mr. Harrison had been hitherto silent, but at 
 this point of the discussion he interfered very op- 
 portunely, and said, " I am sure we ought all of 
 us to be much obliged to Dr. Warton, for his clear 
 account of the only way in which the prophecies 
 become an essential evidence of Christianity. I 
 confess, at all events, however, for myself, that the 
 subject had not struck me precisely in this light 
 before, and I am glad to be better informed. But, 
 then, now comes the great question, whether there 
 are, indeed, to be found in the prophecies intelli- 
 gible traces of such a person as Jesus Christ act- 
 ually was, in all the leading circumstances of his 
 history; or whether every thing in those pro- 
 phecies relating to the Jewish Messiah be not so 
 vague, and indefinite, and obscure, as to defy such 
 an application, without being wrested and tortur- 
 ed unreasonably for the very purpose. I am 
 aware that the best and the greatest of men, of the 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 101 
 
 laity as well as of the clergy, have decided for 
 themselves in the first affirmative ; and to their 
 authority I most willingly submit myself, being 
 incompetent, with my own unassisted powers, to 
 enter deeply enough into the investigation ; and 
 Mr. Langstone must excuse me, if I say, that I 
 think his charges against the prophecies, thrown 
 out at random, and in the absence of all proof of 
 sufficient inquiry, are by no means weighty enough 
 to be set in the scale against the combined, accu- 
 mulated judgment of the very soundest judges in 
 the world. But nevertheless, I presume you will 
 allow. Dr. Warton, that the prophecies are dark 
 and obscure ; and if so, I should be gratified with 
 hearing how you account for it." 
 
 This quiet and discreet way of arguing the 
 question, and of asking for further information, 
 was admirably adapted to Mr. Compton's situation, 
 and conducted him gently to the point where we 
 wished to lead him; but it did not appear that 
 Mr. Langstone's abrupt, and hasty, and decisive 
 asseverations against Christianity, were any impe- 
 diment to us. Mr. Compton was conscious, no 
 doubt, that he had been used to speak in the same 
 manner himself, and he knew also with what little 
 grounds of reason he had done so. Besides, he 
 was probably now shocked in some degree at Mr. 
 Langstone's, ungentlemanly tone, which would 
 9* 
 
102 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 have passed unnoticed before, in the midst of their 
 revels, or, perhaps, would have obtained his ap- 
 plause. It was by such violence of assertion and 
 declamation that they formerly upheld one another 
 in their infidel sentiments : and it was not at the 
 gaming-table, or in the company of such as Laura, 
 that they were likely to acquire the softer tones of 
 polished life. Yet he would not go so far as to 
 check him pointedly. In fact, he was struggling 
 between the false shame of being called an apos- 
 tate from opinions which he had maintained with 
 the same vehemence as Mr. Langstone, and the 
 better conviction which began at length to take 
 hold of his mind. The conflict was not yet finish- 
 ed, but as he had withstood the first brunt of it, 
 the final issue was the less to be feared. 
 
 As for Mr. Langstone himself, I could not 
 easily account to my own mind why he remained 
 a moment longer with us, when he saw that two 
 of the party had no value whatever for his author- 
 ity ; and when he had also some reason to suspect 
 that even his bosom friend, Mr. Compton, did not 
 prize it as he had formerly done. It was manifest, 
 that none of us would admit any thing upon his 
 mere ipse dixit, or mistake bold calumniations for 
 sound arguments ; and that we should try every 
 sentence which he might utter, not bj^ the uncer- 
 tain rule of his own passions and prejudices, or by 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 103 
 
 the false logic of his school, but by the sure crite- 
 rion of truth. But it is a rare thing for a man of 
 his stamp to submit to such trammels. Mr. Comp- 
 ton had done it reluctantly : although chastened 
 by affliction, and alarmed by the fear of death, 
 and pressed by his sister, for whom he had a great 
 regard, to confer with his pastor upon the evi- 
 dences and doctrines of the gospel. It might be 
 that Mr. Langstone considered himself bound to 
 await the termination of a discussion which he 
 alone had provoked ; or that he might still enter- 
 tain the hope to avert by some lucky turn the dis- 
 grace which impended over his fraternity, if Mr. 
 Compton should desert them: or, perhaps, his 
 confidence was not a whit abated by the moderate 
 rebukes which he had yet received ; or, after all, 
 he might only stay, because he wished for an op- 
 portunity of being alone with Mr. Compton, and 
 of sifting him with respect to his future intentions, 
 and the rumored changes in his mode of life. 
 
 Be this as it may, my own line was obvious 
 before me. It was evidently my business to bear, 
 without shrinking, whatever might arise; to be 
 calm and patient under the reproaches that might 
 be cast upon my profession and office, and not to 
 return any personal disrespect shown to myself 
 I had now involved myself with Mr. Compton, 
 and appeared to be in the way of obtaining some 
 
104 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 great advantage, which it would be very impolitic 
 to sacrifice, or put to the hazard, from the want of 
 exercising a certain degree of forbearance towards 
 his friend, or from thinking that conceit, ill-humor, 
 and petulance, should be met and resisted with a 
 similar spirit. 
 
 These reflections flashed across my mind before 
 I replied to Mr. Harrison's proposition ; but they 
 occupied a few moments only, so that the pause 
 was scarcely sensible, and then I said, " You con- 
 sider the prophecies to be obscure, Mr. Harrison ; 
 and Mr. Langstone has pronounced the same opin- 
 ion in the strongest terms. You have heard no 
 doubt of Porphyry." 
 
 "I have," said Mr. Harrison. "He was an 
 early and inveterate enemy to Christianity." 
 
 " Yes," added Mr. Langstone, " and he was a 
 man of no mean ability ; keen and shrewd, with 
 an eye to pierce through every deceit and disguise. 
 Flourishing too, as he did, in remote antiquity, he 
 saw the beginnings closer at hand, and could, 
 therefore, survey things with more accuracy. His 
 opinion is of the greatest weight." 
 
 Having thus quietly permitted Mr. Langstone 
 to run himself down by his own impetuosity, I re- 
 sumed and «aid, " Very well ; Porphyry may be 
 all, and more than you tell me; but, what is to 
 our present purpose, he difl^ered from you entirely 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 105 
 
 with respect to the prophecies. Instead of think- 
 ing them dark, and obscure, and indefinite, on the 
 very contrary, he thought them so clear and precise 
 in their application, especially those of Daniel, that 
 he courageously maintained, against the utmost pos- 
 sible certainty itself, that they were written subse- 
 quently to the events which they pretend to foretell." 
 
 " And pray, Dr. Warton," interposed Mr. 
 Langstone, " how is it so certain that they were 
 not written after the events, as Porphyry so inge- 
 niously supposed?" 
 
 Here was a happy and admirable specimen of 
 the turnings, and windings, and rapid transitions 
 of a sceptic and free-thinker. In a moment he 
 left his former position, without blushing, to shift 
 for itself, and eagerly caught at something else 
 which held out the shadow of a more favorable 
 issue. However, I met him on his new ground, 
 and told him, without being discomposed, that it 
 was certain ; first, because the whole of the Old 
 Testament was known to have been translated 
 into the Greek language, by order of one of the 
 Ptolemies, about two hundred years before the 
 Christian era, which version we now possess un- 
 der the name of the Septuagint ; and, secondly, be- 
 cause the prophecies were always in the custody of 
 the Jews, who, being hostile to Christianity, would 
 never admit any thing to be dishonestly introduced 
 
106 THE MAIS argu:ment. 
 
 into them which might favor it. Then I said, 
 " Observe now how completely Porphyry is at 
 variance with you. He brought forward this 
 strano^est and most untenable of all charsres 
 against the prophecies, in order to get rid at once 
 of the argument from prophecy ; and his charge 
 is founded upon their supposed clearness, whereas 
 you affirm that they are so obscure as to be quite 
 unintelligible. But the fact is, that the truth, as is 
 generally the case, lies between the two extremes, 
 namely, that they are not so obscure as to be un- 
 intelligible after the events, nor so clear as to be in- 
 telligible before them. I do not mean that there 
 will not always be room for dispute in a variety 
 of ways, and, in the case of some particular pro- 
 phecies, even as to their fulfilment; but 1 say this, 
 that prophecy accomplishes its object, if it be clear 
 enough beforehand to excite hopes and expecta- 
 tions of fulfilment, and clear enough afterwards 
 to satisfy unprejudiced minds that the fulfilment 
 has really taken place. A certain degree of ob- 
 scurity, meanwhile, is absolutely necessary before- 
 hand to the accomplishment of this object, for you 
 will not, I presume, contend, that it should be mani- 
 fest at once, upon the delivery of the prophecy, ex- 
 actly what the event is to be, and precisely when 
 it is to occur, and what are all the instruments to 
 be employed in bringing it about. This you 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 107 
 
 would not expect, nor therefore complain of the 
 want of it. You could only debate about the de- 
 gree, and what degree of obscurity should still 
 remain, if any at all should remain, after the fulfil- 
 ment of the prophecy, may admit of debate also ; 
 but certainly if no obscurity were to remain, faith 
 would be at an end. We should have perfect de- 
 monstration instead of the highest probability ; and 
 therefore we should be entirely without any pre- 
 tence of desert of any sort in believing, or rather 
 we should be like those who have believed because 
 they have seen, and have therefore no promise of 
 any blessing attached to their conduct." 
 
 I expected to have been interrupted again and 
 again during this long explanation ; but Mr. Lang- 
 stone had been rather disconcerted, and his keen 
 edge perhaps somewhat blunted, by his having 
 praised Porphyry so warmly, without being aware 
 that his evidence was to be turned against him. 
 However, he was silent even when I had finished, 
 and waited, I suppose, for some better opportunity 
 of attack. Mr. Harrison, I saw plainly, was pre- 
 pared to approve and commend, most probably 
 with sincerity, but at all events diplomatically, 
 with a view to the benefit of Mr. Compton ; but 
 before he began what he intended to say, Mr. 
 Compton himself replied to me. 
 
 "Your theory. Dr. Warton," he said, "must 
 
108 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 needs be allowed to be a probable one. If what 
 are called the prophecies be really prophecies, no 
 doubt there should be such a mixture of clearness 
 and obscurity about them as you mention, in order 
 to effect the purpose for which they must be sup- 
 posed to be intended. But, in point of fact, is this 
 the case? Can it be satisfactorily made out by 
 history or any well-known circumstances ?" 
 
 " It can," I answered ; " in consequence of 
 these very prophecies, which, if we were to read 
 cursorily and partially, without any knowledge of 
 the Hebrew language, and without the help of 
 commentators, we might be tempted to pronounce 
 an indigested mass of crudities (setting aside, how- 
 ever, for the present, the astonishing magnificence 
 and sublimity of numerous particular passages ;) 
 in consequence, I repeat it, of these very prophe- 
 cies, the Jews did actually expect some extraordi- 
 nary person to appear amongst them ; and, what 
 is more, they were in expectation of him about the 
 time when Jesus Christ appeared. This is no 
 ipse dixit of mine, invented for the occasion ; it is 
 attested by the Scriptures and by profane authors. 
 And this expectation was not confined to the 
 Jews, but extended to other nations, through the 
 medium, no doubt, of the Jewish Scriptures. 
 Tacitus and Suetonius mention the expectation as 
 prevailing throughout the East from ancient times- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 109 
 
 ' Percrebuit toto Orienie veius opinio.^ You wish 
 for facts; what stronger fact can you have than 
 this, that the Jews, on the ground of this expecta- 
 tion, undertook that desperate w^ar against the 
 Romans, which ended in the destruction of their 
 city and temple, and in their own dispersion 
 throughout the world? For this irrefragable evi- 
 dence, I refer you to the Roman authors w^hom I 
 have already mentioned, and to the Jew Josephus, 
 not one of whom ever became a Christian. Be 
 the prophecies then as obscure as they may, they 
 were clear enough to raise the expectation which 
 was designed, but not so clear as to prevent the 
 possibility, when the Messiah came, of all cavil- 
 ling and disputing about his being the person in- 
 tended by those prophecies. To me, indeed, it 
 seems astonishing, that the Jews should ever have 
 doubted about it at all ; but the explanation of this 
 fact, relied upon by learned men, cannot but be 
 satisfactory to those w^ho examine it. However, 
 at this distance of time, we possess an advantage 
 in estimating the question Avhich the Jews of the 
 Messiah's time could not have, namely, the estab- 
 lishment of the Christian religion, which proves 
 incontestably that Jesus was the Christ." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Harrison, " as the pro- 
 phecies all along represent the Messiah to be the 
 author of a new covenant founded upon the old 
 10 
 
110 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 one, and as Jesus Christ, claiming to be that Mes- 
 siah, and accompanied with miraculous powers, 
 promulgated a religion, which, against all human 
 probabilities, soon established itself in the world, 
 and exists in great veneration at this day, and 
 seems to be diffusing itself more and more daily ; 
 this is a fact, which is a wonderful evidence of the 
 truth of his pretensions." 
 
 Here Mr. Langstone, interrupting him, ex- 
 claimed sarcastically, " Then Mahomet, most like- 
 ly, is another Messiah, for he too was the founder 
 of a new religion, which is widely received, and 
 highly venerated by its own votaries; and, by-the- 
 bye, I now remember, that the Jews themselves 
 talk of two Messiahs, a triumphant, and a suffer- 
 ing Messiah ; and surely Mahomet may be truly 
 called the triumphant one, for he triumphed by 
 the sword, as well as by arguments, over the re- 
 ligion established by the other, and subdued many 
 nations which supported it. What think you, 
 Dr. Warton, of this impromptu theory of mine?" 
 
 " I will not condemn it," I said, "because it is 
 an impromptu, although I am in the habit of ad- 
 miring the slow-grown fruits of meditation more 
 than the hasty births of a random thought ; but it 
 is plain that your theory does not accord with Mr, 
 Harrison's conditions, much less with all the con- 
 ditions which might have been justly proposed. 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. Ill 
 
 Mahomet was no Jew himself, and never claimed 
 to be the Messiah of the Jews, and set up no pre- 
 tence to miraculous powers, and propagated a 
 religion which had many human probabilities in 
 its favor, although in its establishment it was still 
 wonderful enough, I allow. Then, as to the two 
 Messiahs, that is a mere invention of the Jews to 
 palliate their infidelity. The triumphant and the 
 suffering Messiah are one and the same person, 
 and never before were such opposite and even 
 contradictory characters united together in so ex- 
 traordinary a manner. None but a prophet could 
 have conceived any thing like it — at least none 
 who wished to draw a character to agree with 
 nature ; and a prophet only could foreknow that 
 a person fulfilling such a character, in all its 
 parts, would hereafter exist. And, on the other 
 hand, this strangeness of the character made it the 
 more difficult, nay, made it impossible, I might 
 say, for an impostor to claim it with success. A 
 man cannot at will both triumph and suffer, as the 
 prophecies portray the fortunes of the Messiah ; 
 and accordingly we find, that all but one, who 
 claimed that illustrious title, suffered, indeed, in 
 some sense or other, but never triumphed in any 
 sense. They suffered, I say; for in general they 
 were discomfited and slain : but they did not suffer 
 as the blessed Jesus suffered, and as Isaiah, in his 
 
112 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 fifty-third chapter, foretold that he would suffer. 
 Without doubt, Mr. Langstone, you have read that 
 memorable chapter, which, beyond all the other 
 prophecies, had such a surprising effect upon Lord 
 Rochester, and which, I should think, would con- 
 vince any man who had not resolvedly shut him- 
 self up against all conviction, and barred and 
 barricadoed up the avenues by which conviction 
 might gain an entrance into his understanding 
 and affections. Here is a prophecy too, which 
 must be granted to be clear enough, after the 
 event ; and the more obscure it might be before 
 the event, so much the more wonderful is it, and 
 with so much the more force does it extort convic- 
 tion from us. For it was obscure only because it 
 spoke of one who was to suffer, not for himself 
 but for others, painfully, ignominiously, and fatally, 
 and yet to rise triumphantly over those sufferings, 
 and to be prosperous and a glorious conqueror; 
 and to found a peculiar and mighty kingdom, 
 which should endure through all ages. The 
 .imagination of the poet, glancing from probable 
 to improbable, from possible to impossible, had 
 never pictured to itself any thing half so hetero- 
 geneous ; but the prophet, inspired with a divine 
 spirit, sketched an outline which our crucified 
 Redeemer and Lord fulfilled to a tittle. The 
 study of this converted the Earl of Rochester; 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 113 
 
 let Mr. Langstone study it, and he will be con- 
 verted too, if he be made of humari stuff, however 
 firm that stuff may be." 
 
 Being warmed with my subject, I could not 
 sufficientlj' mark the effect which this speech pro- 
 duced, and an accident prevented me, at that mo- 
 ment, from ascertaining it by any thing which 
 they might have been disposed to say in answer 
 to me. My eye, indeed, being fixed upon Mr. 
 Langstone during the latter part of my speech, it 
 did not escape me that he betrayed considerable 
 uneasiness ; but, Mrs. Harrison coming in upon 
 the instant, all our attention was immediately di- 
 rected, towards her, and in a few minutes after- 
 wards, as soon as it was decent, Mr. Langstone 
 proposed to go. HoAvever, Mr. Compton would 
 not permit it, but said, " Sister, do take the trouble to 
 order up something to eat, for we are all hungry, 
 I dare say, with talking; and Langstone with 
 riding and talking too." 
 
 At once the bell was rung, the directions 
 were given, Mr. Langstone's horses were quietly 
 put up in the stable, and a cold collation was set 
 out by the side of Mr. Compton's sofa. We all 
 now sat down to it, and the debate, fresh as it was, 
 seemed to be entirely forgotten. 
 
 Whilst we were eating, nothing of any conse- 
 quence occurred: but scarcely had we ceased, 
 10* 
 
114 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 when Mrs. Harrison, who was anxious, no doubt, 
 as usual, about her brother, and curious to know 
 what had passed in conversation between us, and 
 alarmed, perhaps, as to the effect of Mr. Langstone's 
 visit, (for she was well acquainted with his charac- 
 ter,) addressed her brother thus: 
 
 " You were all hungry with talking, you said, 
 my dear brother : pray what was the subject upon 
 which you talked so much ? — I fear I have lost a 
 great deal of information by my absence." 
 
 *' Perhaps so," he replied : " the subject at 
 least would have pleased you : we were talking 
 about the prophecies — whether they were clear, 
 or obscure, or what they were ; and Dr. Warton 
 has stated to us, very justly, I think, that upon 
 the supposition of their being genuine, a mixture 
 of clearness and obscurity was essentially ne- 
 cessary." 
 
 " Yes," I said, " speaking generally, and with 
 respect to one whole large class of the prophecies; 
 for, besides the reasons which I have yet assigned 
 for the expediency, and indeed necessity, of a cer- 
 tain degree of obscurity, the Jews, being under a 
 preparatory dispensation, which was to last till it 
 had performed its object, and till the world was 
 ripe for Christianity, which was to be erected up- 
 on its foundations, could not be permitted to see 
 clearly to the end of that dispensation, under 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 115 
 
 which they were still to live for so many ages, 
 and thus, perhaps, to compel the Deity to accom- 
 plish his designs by violence, rather than by the 
 natural operations of the free will of men. But 
 there are other prophecies which needed no pre- 
 vious obscurity ; and, in point of fact, they were 
 as clear beforehand as they were afterwards ; only 
 that there was a sort of condition annexed to them, 
 and by the terms which they were expressed, it 
 seems as if they might be fulfilled, or not, accord- 
 ing to circumstances. The prophetical threats 
 of punishment upon the Jews are a splendid in- 
 stance of this. It depended upon their own con- 
 duct whether those threats should be executed or 
 not; but the threats themselves were perfectly 
 clear, and awful has been their accomplishment. 
 Who can resist so irresistible an evidence ? When 
 you see a Jew, you see a miracle — a perpetual, 
 standing, daily miracle — to prove the truth of 
 Christianity. For it was the rejection of Him 
 who was to resemble Moses and promulgate a new 
 covenant — and whom they were commanded by 
 Moses to obey, under pain of the most terrible 
 chastisements — it was the rejection and crucifixion 
 of Him which was followed, with no tardy step, 
 by those very chastisements themselves. Aston- 
 ishing, indeed, they might seem beforehand, and 
 very reluctant, no doubt, would the Jews be to 
 
116 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 admit that God would so utterly cast off his peo- 
 ple ; hut the threatenings have been executed, in 
 their clear, plain sense, to the very letter, and in 
 every tittle. So, then, such prophecies were clear 
 as might properly be clear, and such were obscure 
 as ought to be obscure ; but the event has made 
 them all equally clear, or at least sufficiently clear 
 to those who have eyes, and are willing to see 
 with them. In truth, this is a tremendous con- 
 sideration — ^that God will judicially inflict blind- 
 ness upon those who are not willing to see, and 
 so suffer them to delude themselves to their own 
 destruction." 
 
 The solemnity with which I delivered this 
 scriptural warning appeared to impose a tempora- 
 ry silence upon them all. Mr. Langstone seemed, 
 besides, to be repressed by the presence of a vir- 
 tuous woman, and no longer disposed to be flip- 
 pant or dogmatical At length Mr. Compton said, 
 that the prophecies deserved, undoubtedly, to be 
 well weighed ; and that there was an extraordinary 
 character about them, both of matter and of style. 
 
 " Nor do I think," he added, " that their ob- 
 scurity resembles the obscurity of the heathen 
 oracles, which were often so constructed as to be 
 capable of being accomplished in opposite ways." 
 
 " No," I said ; " we never meet with any 
 thing like that given to Croesus — that if he cross- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 117 
 
 ed the Halys, he would destroy a great kingdom, 
 which would have been equally fulfilled by defeat 
 or victory. In short, the object was totally differ- 
 ent, and they do not admit of comparison in any 
 respect. The fulfilment of an insulated heathen 
 oracle proved only the dexterity of him who fra- 
 med it ; but the fulfilment of scripture-prophecy, 
 which is one great, connected system, reaching 
 through many ages, and pointing to one vast ob- 
 ject, worthy of the divine care and mercy, proves 
 infinite wisdom, and the interference of God him- 
 self It was well said, therefore, that if men will 
 not believe Moses and the prophets, neither will 
 they believe, though one rise from the dead." 
 
 Here Mr. Langstone was tempted to interpose, 
 and he exclaimed rather eagerly, " Let me have 
 the latter evidence, however. Dr. Warton : if one 
 rose from the dead, that would be an evidence in- 
 deed ; — the most determined sceptic, a very Aca- 
 demic philosopher, could not argue against it. 
 But it never happens ; the stories of such things 
 are the mere fables of superstitious old women, or 
 of men who are like them, too absurd to be credit- 
 ed for an instant. And I must say (this he spoke 
 with an affected gravity,) that it appears to me to 
 be rather singular, that an evidence, the most con- 
 vincing of all, should be denied to us ; this looks 
 very odd, and is quite unaccountable." 
 
118 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 There was a malice in this observation, which, 
 I presume, w^as so ill-concealed as to be visible to 
 all. Without noticing it, however, in an open 
 manner, I said, 
 
 " Well, Mr. Langstone, but how is this ? Do 
 you really mean to assert that no one ever rose 
 from the dead to prove to us the truth of Chris- 
 tianity ?" 
 
 The form of this question occasioned him to 
 hesitate a little before he answered it ; but soon, 
 with almost his usual holdness, he replied, 
 
 " There is no such thing ; I have examined 
 all the accounts of apparitions and ghosts, and 
 such trash, not excepting the famous tale of the 
 Cock-lane ghost ; and I pronounce them all to be 
 the tricks of impostors, or the dreams of dotards." 
 
 " But there is one account," I resumed coolly, 
 " which is better authenticated than the rest." 
 
 "What is that?" he inquired hastily and in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " Jesus Christ," I answered, " was sent, first 
 from heaven to persuade us, and when that was 
 not sufficient, he was sent to us afterwards from 
 the dead. Here is the A-ery evidence which you 
 prize so highly — unique, and incontrovertible — 
 superior to all the cavilling of an Academic him- 
 fielf What do you object to this, Mr. Langstone?" 
 
 At first he was somewhat disconcerted, but, 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 119 
 
 after revolving the matter in his thoughts a mo- 
 ment or two, he exclaimed, " No, no, Dr. Warton ; 
 that will never do ; that is begging the question. 
 The resurrection of Jesus Christ is one of the 
 supposed facts of the gospel, and can never be ad- 
 duced to prove the gospel itself No, no ; what I 
 require is, the return from the dead of some one 
 whom we know, to assure us that there is an ex- 
 istence after this, and that all which the gospels 
 tell us about a future state of rewards and punish- 
 ments is true." 
 
 " And must this appearance of one from the 
 dead," I inquired, " be vouchsafed to every indi- 
 vidual person, or how ?" He saw the absurdity 
 into which he was ready to fall ; so he replied 
 cautiously, 
 
 " No, no, not to every single human being ; 
 for that would be endless ; but to various persons 
 at various times." 
 
 " Very well," I said, " and how then were the 
 rest of mankind to be convinced? Must they be 
 content with an inferior evidence, or what?" 
 
 This pressed him hardly, and he was com- 
 pelled, after much hesitation, to confess, that they 
 must needs take it upon testimony. 
 
 " If, then, we are reduced," 1 said, " to such a 
 necessity, that an infinite number of persons must 
 be content with the testimony of witnesses to cer- 
 
120 THE MA.IN ARGUMENT. 
 
 tain facts, why may we not all of us be satisfied, 
 and once for all, with the testimony of witnesses 
 to the one great fact of the resurrection of Jesus 
 from the dead 1 Nor is there any begging of the 
 question in my way of stating the argument. 
 Jesus, when alive, preached certain doctrines ; they 
 to whom he preached would not believe ; he came 
 to them again from the dead, to confirm those doc- 
 trines by so supernatural a fact. This is what I 
 understand you to insist upon. Now I also, from 
 my pulpit, preach the doctrines of the gospel ; you 
 doubt about their truth, from the alleged insuffi- 
 ciency of the evidence ; therefore, I come to you 
 from the dead, to give you what you call the 
 strongest and most irrefragable evidence of their 
 truth ; and in that case you profess at least that 
 you would believe ; but others, a great many 
 others, must receive the matter on your single 
 authority. I ask, then, whether it would not be 
 better, and, therefore, wiser in the Deity, so to 
 ordain it, that we should all of us acquiesce in the 
 original evidence of the fact of Christ's resurrec- 
 tion, rather than that one age or community should 
 trust to the evidence of one Mr. Langstone, and 
 another to another, and succeeding ages or com- 
 munities to succeeding Mr. Langstones for ever ?" 
 It would have been so glaringly and ridicu- 
 lously absurd to prefer this latter expedient, as a 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 121 
 
 general mode of proceeding, that even Mr. Lang- 
 stone would not venture to argue it. A short 
 pause therefore ensued, and I had an opportunity 
 of looking round. A smile was playing upon 
 the countenances of Mr. and Mrs. Harrison; if 
 good manners would have permitted them, or the 
 natural gravity of their own dispositions, they 
 would probably have laughed outright. Mr. Comp- 
 ton, though ill at ease, absolutely did so ; and at 
 length exclaimed, 
 
 " This will not do, Langstone ; we cannot 
 maintain it ; it has no solid base. Dr. Warton 
 has touched it with his spear, and it crumbles to 
 atoms." 
 
 " Yes," cried Mr. Langstone, somewhat petu- 
 lantly, and manifestly vexed, that my authority 
 should be set up above his own, by his quondam 
 partner in profligacy and infidelity, " but the pre- 
 tended fact of the resurrection of Jesus is so re- 
 mote — so lost in distant antiquity — who but the 
 most credulous will believe it now ? Is not the 
 strength of the testimony of witnesses diminished 
 in proportion to the number of the links in the 
 chain through which it is derived ?" 
 
 " Then," I said, " at a certain period it would 
 amount to nothing. For, being continually les- 
 sened, it must at length become less than the least 
 which can be assigned, and which in practice is 
 11 
 
122 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 nought. Thus all our helief of ancient facts would 
 be completely destro^^^ed, and history unavailable 
 to the improvement of mankind. This cannot be ; 
 your argument, Mr. Langstone, applies, not to 
 testimony in general, but to oral tradition in par- 
 ticular. That, indeed, is weakened, as you say, 
 every day ; and the facts only so reported are very 
 soon utterly forgotten. But written memorials 
 stand upon a different footing, and if their authori- 
 ty was good at first, it is good for ever afterwards ; 
 and perhaps increased, instead of diminished, by the 
 lapse of time, in consequence of a thousand circum- 
 stances which may arise collaterally to strengthen 
 it. But the original authority will be better and bet- 
 ter, in proportion as they who record the facts were 
 nearer and nearer to the occurrence of the facts 
 themselves, and had superior means of informa- 
 tion. By this canon, therefore, the authority of 
 the four gospels can scarcely be exceeded in 
 weight. Matthew and John were absolutely eye- 
 witnesses. Mark was probably the same ; but 
 at all events he was the constant companion of 
 one who certainly was. And Luke shall speak 
 for himself" Then suddenly rising from my seat 
 at the table, I seized a Bible, which I had espied 
 with pleasure, upon my first entrance, lying upon 
 a small table in a corner of the room, and return- 
 ing with equal speed, and opening at St. Luke's 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 123 
 
 gospel, I read aloud the four introductory verses, 
 and immediately afterwards resumed the argu- 
 ment. 
 
 " You observe," I said, " what St. Luke as- 
 serts — namely, that he had a perfect understand- 
 ing of all things from the first. Upon the whole, 
 therefore, the testimony of these four Evangelists 
 is the very best that can possibly be had ; and it 
 is confirmed in every way by every thing else 
 which bears upon it ; it stands unimpeached and 
 unimpeachable. Your sceptics and freethinkers, 
 indeed, may set it aside at once, and without ex- 
 amination, by a single ipse dixit, or stroke of the 
 pen ; but it must be allowed, I think, that their 
 authority, under such circumstances, is less than 
 nothing — on the negative side of the line of zero ; 
 much less to be put into the balance against the 
 mighty, overwhelming authority of men of all ages, 
 prodigious in talent, in learning, in virtue — the 
 splendid luminaries of their respective generations ; 
 men, too, who probed this very testimony to the 
 bottom, were satisfied with it, and fastened their 
 faith and hopes upon it. In comparison with 
 this, the other kicks the beam." 
 
 Mr, Langstone and Mr. Compton not seeming 
 disposed to say any thing in answer to me, Mr. 
 Harrison, to carry on the discussion, inquired 
 whether it was clearly made out by the learned, 
 
124 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, were really 
 the authors of the gospels ascribed to them ; and 
 whether those gospels had come down to us in a 
 pure, unadulterated form. 
 
 ♦' It happens," he said, " that I have not ex- 
 amined this question for myself, but have hitherto 
 taken it upon trust ; I should like to know, there- 
 fore, something more positive about it ; and it is 
 of importance in the present stage of our debate." 
 
 " Yes, certainly," cried Mr. Langstone, eager 
 to second any thing which implied a doubt about 
 the foundations of Christianity ; " unless this can 
 be made out to our perfect satisfaction, the resur- 
 rection, and every other fact, fall to the ground at 
 once. How is this, Dr. Warton? There are 
 plenty of gospels, besides these four, which you 
 are pleased to call forgeries; but wherefore? 
 Why may not these be the forgeries, and those 
 others genuine? Or rather, are they not all 
 forgeries. There are enough, I believe, of ab- 
 surdities, and inconsistencies, and contradictions, 
 in them all, to overturn them all. Pray explain 
 this. Dr. Warton." 
 
 " Fie, fie, Mr. Langstone," I said ; " why set 
 me to do a thing for you, which you may do so 
 easily for yourself, any fine morning that you 
 will ? There is Lardner, for instance ; he wrote 
 upon this subject in about a dozen paltry octavo 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 125 
 
 volumes ; and what are they to your freethinker, 
 who is always indefatigable in his investigations, 
 and cannot sleep, unless he has dived to the very 
 bottom of things, and solved every difficulty 1 Be- 
 sides, these octavos are so charming, that you will 
 wish them to be folios ; or perhaps they will tempt 
 you, for the sake of becoming a perfect master of 
 this question, to betake yourself to the real folios 
 themselves — a hundred or more, I warrant you ; 
 the old Fathers, I mean, without whose help you 
 must be content, after all, to go upon trust, or to 
 grope in the dark. Well, all these have been 
 conned over, again and again, by men skilful in 
 the ancient languages, beginning their researches 
 with the apostolic ages, and carrying them down 
 through several of the early centuries ; and thus, 
 after the most laborious industry, and the maturest 
 deliberation, and the most scrutinizing criticism, 
 and an illustrious display of all the powers and 
 resources of the most gigantic learning, was the 
 canon of scripture settled. But Mr. Langstone 
 will unsettle it at once, and without any trouble, 
 by a mere query — ' may not the four gospels be 
 forgeries V I will ask you, Mr. Harrison, can any 
 thing more be done that has not been done towards 
 the complete disposing of this question ?" 
 
 " It seems impossible," answered Mr. Har- 
 rison. •' Every production of antiquity bearing 
 11* 
 
126 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 upon these gospels has, you say, been thoroughly 
 sifted." 
 
 " It has," I rejoined, " and many more than 
 now exist." 
 
 " Any man, then," he said, " who should at- 
 tempt to go through the inquiry again, would have 
 smaller means of settling the question." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " smaller, certainly, but am- 
 ply sufficient to satisfy the most scrupulous mind, 
 and to occupy the longest life." 
 
 " And the epitome of the whole investigation 
 is to be found in Lardner ; is it not ?" he inquired. 
 
 "It is," I said. 
 
 "Then I will look into him," he continued, 
 "just to acquaint myself with the mode of the in 
 vestigation." 
 
 " You will do well," I said ; " but almost any 
 of the books, much shorter ones, upon the canon 
 of Scripture, would, I think, serve your purpose, 
 although, in saying this, I would not be suppo- 
 sed to discourage larger inquiries. And as to 
 the other point which you started, the purity 
 of Scripture, it need only be mentioned, to satisfy- 
 any ingenuous person, that since the invention of 
 printing, the wilful corruption of the text has been 
 impossible ; and that before, the power of com- 
 paring manuscripts with each other, and with the 
 translations of them into different languages, and 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 127 
 
 the vigilant, mutual watch of contending sects, 
 made it extremely difficult to alter or interpolate 
 any thing without immediate detection. In short, 
 every thing of that sort, which was either attempt- 
 ed or accomplished, and every variety of reading, 
 which has ever existed in any manuscript, are 
 perfectly well known to the critics, and actually 
 appear, for the general inspection, in the great 
 and elaborate editions of the Scriptures. What 
 more, then, can you now at this day expect, or 
 could you ever have ?" 
 
 " Nothing, certainly," replied Mr. Harrison ; 
 " and I must say for myself, with the most unfeign- 
 ed pleasure, that I am entirely at ease upon the sub- 
 ject. I thank you, Dr. Warton, a thousand times." 
 
 " Very well, then," I said ; " if these collateral 
 questions are thought to be sufficiently settled, we 
 come back to the original one with the more de- 
 cided certainty ; and vve cannot but acknowledge, 
 not only that the fact of Christ's resurrection, at- 
 tested by such witnesses, as we have described, is 
 a more forcible and convincing evidence of the 
 truth of Christianity, than the appearance of one 
 from the dead to different persons at different 
 times, but also than such an appearance to every 
 individual of every time." 
 
 " That is a strong assertion, indeed. Dr. War- 
 ton," said Mr. Compton ; *' I was disposed to go 
 
128 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 with you before, but I cannot now. So far T am 
 well aware, that the appearance of one from the 
 dead to every individual is by no means to be ex- 
 pected as a general system. As Langstone very 
 truly said, it would be endless. I am aware, 
 also, from what has passed between us in conver- 
 sation, that it may not suit the purposes of the 
 Deity to afford us all universally the best evidence 
 which may be possible ; but that he may wish to 
 try our tempers and dispositions, whether we will 
 believe upon sufficient evidence ; upon the same 
 evidence that we believe other facts of importance 
 to us. One thing more I willingly concede, that 
 the humor or caprice of particular persons is not 
 to be indulged, as a matter of course, with that 
 evidence, which may either really be, or which 
 they themselves may choose to call, the strongest. 
 But, then, I should still think with Langstone, 
 that the appearance of one from the dead, theoreti- 
 cally speaking, is such an evidence as it would 
 be impossible to controvert ; and, although you 
 see that I do not go his length in pronouncing it 
 singular and odd, that this especial evidence is 
 denied us, yet I cannot but regret the total want 
 of it in every case, and upon every occasion 
 whatever. These are my sentiments. Dr. War- 
 ton, which I hope I have made intelligible ; but I 
 will not shut my ears against conviction." 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 129 
 
 I could with difficulty restrain my joy, when I 
 heard this speech. It delighted me in every way. 
 It was full of candor, and visibly bespoke a sur- 
 prising change of opinion and feeling. But what 
 pleased me most was the desire, which I thought 
 I saw in it, of carrying Mr. Langstone with him 
 through all the consequences which might ensue 
 to himself There was an evident management 
 in what he said, with a view to his friend, of 
 some sort or other. I interpreted it in the view 
 which I have mentioned, and hailed it as the har- 
 binger of certain good. At the same time he had 
 mistaken my position. I had contrasted the gen- 
 eral evidence of Christ's resurrection with a gene- 
 ral system of appearances from the dead ; but he 
 contrasted it with particular appearances to par- 
 ticular persons, now and then, upon extraordinary 
 occasions, and, as it seemed, for their own convic- 
 tion alone. In my way of putting it, it struck 
 me then, that a general system of appearance to 
 every individual of every time would come to no- 
 thing, and be a waste of miraculous interferences ; 
 and I think the same now. But his position was 
 exceedingly plausible and well worthy of consider- 
 ation ; and it seemed besides to be of great conse- 
 quence to me to overthrow it, if I could. I knew, 
 upon the whole, that it was wrong ; but I by no 
 means knew whether I should be able to prove it 
 
130 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 to be so to his satisfaction. Were this done, the 
 result might be, not only that he Avould look 
 solely, and as a matter of necessity, to those great 
 universal evidences which God has provided for 
 the whole race of mankind, but also that he would 
 abandon altogether the vain notion, which he now 
 entertained, of the certainty or even probability 
 that a particular appearance would be useful to 
 himself 
 
 " Well, then," I said, after a short pause, and 
 without taking any notice of the variation which 
 he had introduced, " We will see about it. But 
 it will be of no avail to argue it as a naked, ab- 
 stract, theoretical question, whether this or that 
 evidence is the strongest. We will take it up 
 practically, and as Scripture puts it: 'If they be- 
 lieve not Moses and the Prophets, neither will 
 they believe, although one rose from the dead.* 
 It is supposed, therefore, that all the other evi- 
 dence has been already examined, and rejected as 
 insufficient ; and the question is, whether the 
 same persons, who have done this, are likely to 
 be convinced by the apparition of one sent to 
 them from the grave. Our Lord said they were 
 not ; at least he has so represented it in his most 
 interesting and instructive parable of Dives and 
 Lazarus." 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed Mr. Langstone, with vehe- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 131 
 
 mence, and interrupting me ; " but his own his- 
 tory, which you call authentic, is against him. 
 For it is there stated, that one of his own disci- 
 ples, who had seen all his miracles, and had been 
 told beforehand, that after death he would rise 
 again; and was now told, that he was actually 
 risen, and that he had appeared to those very per- 
 sons who mentioned the fact to him ; could not, 
 however, be prevailed upon to yield to any testi- 
 mony, or to any evidence, but to that of his own 
 eyes ; and the story goes on to say, that this evi- 
 dence was given to him, and that he believed in 
 consequence of it. This, I think, is what you 
 have already alluded to. Dr. Warton ; and you in- 
 sinuated that the case of this doubting disciple, who 
 afterwards believed, because he saw, was a case 
 without merit ; so I suppose, the greater a man's 
 credulity, the more orthodox and the more meri- 
 torious his faith. But without stopping to show 
 the absurdity of this, or to remark upon the in- 
 consistencies of your Scriptures: what I quote 
 the story for is by way of an argumentuin ad 
 hominem to yourself, Dr. Warton. You, at least, 
 must allow, that here was a man, whom no- 
 thing else convinced, convinced by an apparition ; 
 and why should you pronounce the same thing 
 improbable now ? I protest, 1 do not see how I 
 could resist that evidence myself But there is 
 
132 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 no danger of such a trial. What is there to re- 
 appear ? The bodies of the dead crumble into 
 dust, as we all know ; and the spirits which ani- 
 mated them, vanishing together, will never again 
 disturb others, nor be disturbed themselves. 
 
 Death is the end of them for ever." 
 
 Perhaps the design of this open denial of the im- 
 mortality of the soul was to lead me away from the 
 subject in hand to a new topic. I, however, chose 
 not to enter this new track, but proceeded thus : 
 
 " You say you could not resist the evidence 
 of an apparition from the dead yourself, but how 
 would you know whether your supposed appari- 
 tion of a dead man from the other world was real ? 
 How will you know whether it be a true ghost, 
 or the mere empty illusion of a dream?" 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me, Dr. Warton," he replied 
 hastily, " I have nothing to do with dreams. To 
 be influenced by dreams is the very height of folly 
 and weakness ; that is not my failing. I must be 
 wide awake, or the ghost will do nothing with meP 
 
 " So you shall then," I said, " but many men 
 dream, do they not, even when awake?" 
 
 " Why, that is true enough," he answered sar- 
 castically ; " the dreams of waking superstition are 
 endless, and most absurd," 
 
 " Be it so," I said. " It is not unlikely that 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 133 
 
 you are acquainted, as I am, with persons who 
 affirm, without the slightest doubt upon the sub- 
 ject in their own minds, and apparently beyond 
 the possibility of being convinced to the contrary, 
 that they have seen with their open eyes the 
 strangest visions imaginable, which you know 
 immediately by internal evidence to be false." 
 
 " I have certainly met with more than one per- 
 son of that description in the course of my life," 
 he replied. 
 
 "But I presume you did not believe their 
 stories," I said. 
 
 " No, indeed," he answered ; " I laughed at 
 their absurdity and nonsense." 
 
 "Should you have expected them to believe 
 your I asked, " if you had related similar stories 
 of yourself to them ?" 
 
 " Nor that either," he replied, " unless they 
 were infatuated." 
 
 " Well, then," I asked again, " and would you 
 not try to account for the mistakes of those delu- 
 ded people, by saying that they must certainly have 
 been dreaming in their sleep, although they 
 thought themselves wide awake? Or, if they 
 were really awake, yet that their fancies were still 
 but a dream? Their agitated minds, perhaps, 
 were dwelling perpetually upon some peculiar no- 
 tions, until they embodied them into shapes, which 
 12 
 
134 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 danced before their eyes with all the semblance of 
 realities. Would you not explain the matter in 
 one or other of these ways ?" 
 
 He granted that he should. 
 
 " And all sober-minded persons," I said, 
 " would explain in the same way, would they not, 
 any similar supernatural visions which you might 
 tell them had occurred to yourself?" 
 
 He allowed it. 
 
 "Very well, then," I said, "this being univer- 
 sally the case, however we might at first have been 
 convinced of the reality of these visions, and ob- 
 stinately bent upon believing them, should we not 
 at length begin to distrust ourselves ? One man 
 laughs and ridicules us, another argues and dis- 
 putes with us, a third accounts ingeniously for our 
 delusions. Can we stand out against all this for 
 ever? Will not our own belief be gradually 
 weakened, and at last extinguished?" 
 
 " It seems likely enough," he answered, " speak- 
 ing generally ; but if I were the person, as I am 
 pretty confident that I shall always be master of 
 my own senses, I think I could distinguish suffi- 
 ciently by the circumstances whether the vision 
 were a true one or not ; a ghost, suppose, or only 
 a phantom of the brain." 
 
 " A ghost would probably speak to you, would 
 it not?" I inquired. 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 135 
 
 " I presume so," he replied ; " for, if it had any- 
 rational object, the object must be explained by- 
 words." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," I said, " and the words spoken 
 might be an excellent clue to direct you in form- 
 ing your judgment about the ghost itself, whether it 
 were a true or a false apparition, whether it came 
 from God or from the devil ; might they not ?" 
 
 " Possibly they might," he answered. 
 
 " You being always in possession of your 
 sober senses," I said, " if the ghost were to utter 
 something amazingly nonsensical, would you not 
 pronounce at once that it was a false ghost, al- 
 though you might be broad awake ?" 
 
 *' I would certainly," he replied, laughing. 
 
 "And," I said, "if it ordered you to do some- 
 thing which would drive you out of society, and 
 disgrace your name for ever, would you not pro- 
 nounce it to be a false ghost ; or, if it were a real 
 one, that it came from the Father of lies and all 
 mischief?" 
 
 " If there were any such being," he answered 
 dubiously, " I might, perhaps, say so." 
 
 " Well," 1 continued, " and suppose the ghost, 
 resembling a dead person of your acquaintance, 
 who disbelieved the immortality of the soul, should 
 address you in this manner, ' Mr. Langstone !' he 
 comes upon a grave errand, arid therefore we 
 
i36 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 must make him speak with a correspondent be- 
 coming gravity; 'Mr. Langstone.' Probably, in- 
 deed, to rivet your attention to him, he will repeat 
 your name three times, in the true ghost-like style, 
 and with a hollow sepulchral tone, ' Mr. Lang- 
 stone, — Mr. Langstone, — Mr. Langstone.' " 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, with all their sense 
 of dignity and good manners, could hardly re- 
 strain a laugh. Mr. Compton, without any scru- 
 ple, laughed aloud. Mr. Langstone himself, bit 
 his lips for vexation. It was quite a novelty to 
 him to be the object of raillery ; being like ^sop, 
 derisor aliorum, non ipse deridendus* So he 
 jumped up from his chair, and exclaimed, angrily, 
 that he would be gone, if we wished to do any 
 thing else but to argue. 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Mr. Compton, pacifying 
 him; "this is Dr. Warton's good-humored, face- 
 tious way of putting his supposition; you have 
 had your own jokes, without any obstruction what- 
 ever ; and therefore you are bound by the law of 
 reciprocity, not to spoil his wit by interrupting 
 him. No, no, Langstone ; sit down again ; I am 
 all impatience to hear the ghost's speech." 
 
 This did not much mend the matter ; however, 
 he resumed his seat; because, I believe, he would 
 
 ♦Accustomed to laugh at others, not to be laughed at 
 himself. 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 137 
 
 have found it a very awkward thing to walk 
 across the room to the door with the laugh against 
 him. 
 
 " Well, then," I began again, " if Mr. Langstone 
 does not admire this solemn exordium, perhaps 
 he would as little admire the body of the speech, 
 and still less the peroration ; so I will put it all 
 in one word. The ghost comes to assure you, 
 Mr. Langstone, that you have an immortal soul." 
 
 " Does he indeed ?" exclaimed Mr. Langstone, 
 irritated, and starting up once more ; " then I will 
 not believe him." He uttered this in a most de- 
 termined tone, but sat down again. 
 
 *' I thought so," I said quietly ; " but pray tell 
 me, were there not persons before the Christian 
 era, who reasoned themselves into a belief of the 
 immortality of the soul." He could not deny it. 
 " And is not the immortality of the soul," I ask- 
 ed again, "one of the doctrines of Christianity?" 
 It was impossible for him to say otherwise. " And 
 which is most easy to believe," I asked thirdly, 
 " the whole of Christianity, or this one doctrine 
 which is a part of it ?" 
 
 This question he refused to answer, and cry- 
 ing out petulantly, that he was wearied with an- 
 swering question after question to no purpose, he 
 desired me to answer it myself according to my 
 own pleasure. 
 
 12* 
 
138 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 " I will then," I said, " and the ohvious answer 
 is, that it is easier to believe a part than the whole, 
 which necessarily embraces the part and other 
 things. And now we may draw the conclusion 
 from these premises, which is equally obvious, 
 namely, that Mr. Langstone would not believe in 
 the Christian religion, although one rose from the 
 dead." 
 
 Upon this, not being able to endure his un- 
 pleasant situation any longer, he got up in good 
 earnest, and, as he took leave of Mr. Compton 
 and the rest of us, he endeavored to conceal his 
 chagrin with a laugh, and said, " Very well ; as 
 Dr. Warton has now settled the matter to his 
 satisfaction, I may be excused ; so good morning 
 to you all." 
 
 This he accompanied with a very low, affect- 
 ed bow. Mr. Compton called out that he should 
 wait till his horses were ready, and at the same 
 time desired his sister to ring the bell. This she 
 did, but Mr. Langstone was gone, and no sooner 
 was the door shut after him, than she exclaimed, 
 " Oh ! my dear brother, I am so glad that he has 
 left us ! I can now breathe again Avith freedom." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Harrison, " and with all his 
 positive, dictatorial temper, and with all his fluen- 
 cy and impetuosity of speech, he is so shallow 
 too. He really never seems to me to penetrate 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 139 
 
 beneath the surface, or to see to the end of any- 
 thing, so that it is no wonder that he is entangled 
 and confuted immediately." 
 
 Then, thinking, perhaps, that what he had 
 said was not complimentary to me, he added in- 
 stantly, "At the same time. Dr. Warton, I am 
 fully aware, and acknowledge with gratitude, the 
 admirable manner in which you conducted the 
 whole conversation. Indeed, if it might not look 
 like flattery, 1 should express in very strong terms 
 my great surprise at the readiness and facility 
 with which you meet and overthrow every posi- 
 tion adverse to Christianity." 
 
 " It is true," interposed Mr. Compton ; •' you 
 put me in mind. Dr. Warton, of the ingenious de- 
 scription of the Dialectic and Rhetoric, and I per- 
 ceive that you can contend in the manner of both. 
 Your short, pithy, pungent, home-thrust questions, 
 are the hand with the fingers closed — the fist, as 
 we call it; and your lengthened disputations, 
 whether in attack or defence, whether to explain 
 or to illustrate, are the hand with all its fingers 
 expanded and apart." 
 
 I was by no means displeased with these com- 
 mendations, although not entitled to so large a 
 measure. If their opinion of me had been but a 
 low one, I should scarcely have been able to ef- 
 fect any thing important, especially with such 
 
140 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 a man as Mr. Compton, with whom authority 
 went a great way. I thought it right, however, 
 to put the matter on its true footing ; so I said, 
 " Oh ! spare me, gentlemen ! There is nothing at 
 all really surprising in what I do ! If you recol- 
 lect that these are the subjects upon which I am 
 constantly reading, and thinking, and talking, and 
 writing, and preaching, all your wonder will cease 
 in a moment. But to have done with this, I wish 
 to know, with regard to the last point that we 
 were upon when Mr. Langstone deserted us, 
 whether you still think that any thing would be 
 gained by appearances from the dead?" 
 
 " I am not quite satisfied about it," he answerd 
 " The argument terminated too abruptly for me." 
 
 '• So far I presume you see," I said, " that 
 there w^ould be a difficulty in deciding whether it 
 were a true appearance or an illusion, and if a 
 true one, whether it came for a good or for a bad 
 purpose. Then it must be supposed, (indeed we 
 assumed it,) that if it were a true one, and came 
 for a good purpose, it would be to persuade us of 
 something against which we were so strongly pre- 
 judiced as to have rejected the suitable evidence of 
 it. Immediately, therefore, I have no doubt, we 
 should be up in arms against the poor ghost ; we 
 should be disposed to pronounce the whole thing 
 a fancy of the brain, or perhaps the pious fraud of 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 141 
 
 some officious friend to cheat us into Christianity, 
 or a change of life, or what not ? Let it be grant- 
 ed, however, that, in spite of all such endeavors to 
 escape from the impression of the reality of the 
 ghost, the impression will still cling to us and 
 haunt us, and we consult, in our distress, such a 
 man as Mr. Langstone, a man of the same princi- 
 ples, pursuits, and prejudices as ourselves. Oh! 
 what a battery would be opened upon us of argu- 
 ment and raillery! What laughs, what jokes, 
 what jeers, what sarcasms, would not be launched 
 against us ! what appeals would not be made to 
 our consistency, to our courage, to our pride ! In 
 short, he must be an extraordinary man, I think, 
 who should obey the ghost against his own in- 
 clinations, and in despite of all the ridicule that 
 would be heaped upon him. You remember, no 
 doubt, the story of Lord Lyttleton's ghost, and the 
 attempt to divert his mind from the thoughts of 
 the death that was foreboded, by putting the clock 
 forward to the fatal hour. It struck ; and, at once 
 released from all his fears, he exclaimed in a 
 transport of joy, ' I have cheated the ghost !' This 
 illustrates what has been said ; and, upon the 
 whole, it appears to me that a maxim, w^hich we 
 might well have admitted on our Lord's authori- 
 ty alone, is now sufficiently proved by reason and 
 by fact; namely, that they who do not believe 
 
142 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 Moses and the prophets, will not believe although 
 one rose from the dead." 
 
 " In truth it seems so," said Mr. Compton, 
 " and, therefore, we will finish the discussion here. 
 I am sure we have detained you unmercifully. Dr. 
 Warton. I expected to have talked upon other 
 subjects; but Langstone led us to the prophe- 
 cies, and then to this idle speculation about 
 ghosts. However, it has been useful to me, 
 very useful." 
 
 " I am glad of it," I said, as I got up to go, 
 *' and we shall have time, I hope, for the other sub- 
 jects, with God's leave." 
 
 " I hope so," he replied, and reached out his 
 hand, which having pressed, I left him. 
 
 After this long conversation, a week elapsed 
 before I saw Mr. Compton again. Mr. Harrison 
 was with me on the following day, to report the 
 satisfactory progress which appeared to have been 
 made, and to entreat me to pursue my own good 
 work, whenever I could spare time for it from my 
 other employments. I was as willing to do this 
 as he could possibly wish, and I was particularly 
 encouraged to proceed by a circumstance which 
 he mentioned to me. Mr. Compton, it seems, had 
 written to Mr. Langstone, without the least delay, 
 and whilst the subject was fresh in his mind, ia 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 143 
 
 such a manner, and in such terms, as to prove, 
 at least, his own sincerity, whatever effect might 
 be produced upon his friend. This letter Mr. 
 Compton had shown to his sister, and she was 
 highly delighted with it Amongst other things, 
 it reminded Mr. Langstone with what facility all 
 the opinions which he had advanced had been 
 overthrown ; and it took occasion from thence to 
 insinuate the probability that every other opinion 
 of his, inimical to the Christian religion, might be 
 overthrown with equal facility. For, in fact, these 
 opinions had been taken up on bad authority, as 
 Mr. Compton too well knew by his own sad expe- 
 rience; and, therefore, he exhorted his friend to 
 substitute, as he himself was about to do, for Bo- 
 iingbroke, and Voltaire, and Hume, and Gibbon, 
 the writers of a better school. 
 
 Well, I arranged with Mr. Harrison to be at 
 Mr. Compton's the next day; but before the ap- 
 pointed hour arrived, I was stopped by a message, 
 which informed me that Mr. Compton had been 
 seized during the night with another attack of pa- 
 ralysis ; from v^^hich, hoAvever, it was thought by 
 the medical men, that he would certainly recover, 
 and it was therefore recommended to me to await 
 the result. I did so, and, at length, after the inter- 
 val which I have already mentioned, the disease 
 having abated, and Mr. Compton himself having 
 
144 THE MA.IN ARGUMENT. 
 
 expressed a great desire to see me, I lost no time 
 in going to him. I expected to find a great altera- 
 tion in him in every way. This second seizure 
 by the same disorder would convince him, I sup- 
 posed, that he could not be much longer an inha- 
 bitant of this world ; and that it was necessary for 
 him, therefore, to set seriously to work to prepare 
 himself for the next. At all events, I was now 
 determined to let him know the worst. 
 
 I was received by Mr. Harrison, who con- 
 ducted me immediately up stairs, and tapped gently 
 at Mr. Compton's door. Mrs. Harrison was with- 
 in; and I understood that this was a concerted 
 signal for her to dismiss the attendants by another 
 door, and to admit me alone. However, I found 
 nobody in the room but herself and the sick man. 
 
 He was sitting in his bed, supported by pil- 
 lows, so as to be nearly upright. With his right 
 hand, the only one not paralysed, he held up a 
 pocket-handkerchief to the left side of his face, to 
 conceal, as I thought, the distortion of it. Fortu- 
 nately, I was prepared beforehand to expect to see 
 some derangement of his natural features, which 
 is always an affecting spectacle ; but he was pro- 
 bably not aware that I knew of it, and so tried to 
 hide it ; yet he might be sure that it would not es- 
 cape my observation, if I continued with him many 
 minutes. Ah ! I said to myself, he still clings to 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 145 
 
 the world, and to outward appearances, and is not 
 sensible of their vanity. 
 
 As I approached the bed, his lips quivered, and 
 tears started from his eyes, and all that I saw of his 
 countenance betrayed great agitation and uneasi- 
 ness of mind. It was pale, as from loss of appe- 
 tite, unquiet rest, and mental trouble. His sister 
 wept in silence. My sympathy was awakened, 
 but I could do nothing to console him. I could 
 not grasp his hand without disturbing and perhaps 
 distressing him ; to speak was not at present with- 
 in my power. After the first piteous glance, how- 
 ever, when he ceased to look at me, I became gra- 
 dually re-assured, and at length began the conver- 
 sation in the following manner : — 
 
 " I am sorry. Sir, very sorry, to see you in so 
 much affliction." 
 
 " I knew you would be," he said immediately, 
 interrupting me, and expressing himself with tole- 
 rable firmness, and without any hesitation or in- 
 distinctness of speech, which I was glad to observe. 
 
 " Yes," I resumed, " it is a painful thing to see 
 any person in pain and distress. We cannot conquer 
 that feeling at once; no, nor at all. Perhaps it 
 does us honor. Yet the slightest reflection teaches 
 us that these evils of sickness and calamity are 
 calculated and intended to produce good. As I 
 walked towards your house, I watched some large, 
 13 
 
146 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 dark, black clouds, which were suspended in the 
 air over my head, and threatened every moment a 
 tempestuous downfall. On a sudden, the sun, which 
 was behind one of them, shot his beams obliquely 
 on the rest, and immediately all their skirts and 
 edges were lit up with a golden light. The 
 thought struck me in an instant, that this was ap- 
 plicable to your case, Mr. Compton. Your suf- 
 ferings have been long and great, after an unin- 
 terrupted enjoyment of health and worldly pros- 
 perity. The cloud that still hangs over you is 
 large, and dark, and black enough." 
 
 " It is indeed," he said. 
 
 " Yes," I resumed again ; " but it is bordered 
 by a robe of glorious light ; nay, the light breaks 
 through it in every direction. The design, and 
 the use of your calamities, are as manifest as the 
 calamities themselves, and the mercy of God shines 
 out in the midst of them with a visible lustre. 
 What were you, I ask, six months ago ? What 
 are you, I ask, now? You have yourself, indeed, 
 already told me' what your former life has been, 
 and how conscious you were that it was totally at 
 variance with revelation. But it was contrary to 
 reason too, the only remaining guide. At least it 
 could not be the proper life of a man destined to 
 immortality ; that is as clear as the sun at noon- 
 day. No ; and I will go further ; it could not be 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 147 
 
 the proper life of a man doomed to terminate his 
 existence in this world. They, who would shame- 
 lessly maintain such a position,, are but little re- 
 moved from the brute beast. In fact, they put 
 themselves voluntarily upon a level with him, and 
 so they say, as he might, if he were endued with 
 speech, ' Let us eat and drink ; for to-morrow we 
 die,' and our existence is at an end for ever. What ! 
 Is this the language and the sentiment of a man % 
 Of a being, whether immortal or not, yet gifted 
 with the highest powers of reason and imagina- 
 tion ; capable certainly of the greatest actions, and 
 the noblest aspirations? No, no; a rational crea- 
 ture must acknowledge that he ought to be 
 governed by reason in all circumstances alike, 
 whether death terminate his whole existence or 
 not. Such a life, therefore, as is led by loose men 
 of the world, cannot be justified upon any sup- 
 position." 
 
 Thus I was running on, and seemed almost to 
 have forgotten my main point ; but here the sick 
 man exclaimed with earnestness, and dropped his 
 hand from his face, " It is too true. Sir ; I see it 
 now, and I wonder it so long escaped me. But 
 what am I at this moment, that I should feel more 
 comfortable with myself?" 
 
 " You are come to yourself," I said, " which 
 15 a mighty change. This sickness, ordained in 
 
148 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 mercy, snapped your mistaken habits and your 
 erroneous career asunder. It compelled you to 
 reflect: it brought home to you the conviction, 
 that your life hung upon a thread, at the will of 
 another ; it forced upon you the thought of an 
 hereafter, into which you might be plunged in a 
 single instant, unawares, and unprepared; you 
 looked round for support against this tremendous 
 idea ; you remodelled your family, upon virtuous 
 principles; you came to God's house of prayer; 
 you searched the holy Scriptures; you inquired 
 into the evidences of Christianity. Am I not right 
 in calling this a mighty change ? Six month ago 
 did this seem possible ? Could it have happened 
 without adversity ? If God himself had not touch- 
 ed the hard rock, these waters of sorrow would 
 never have flowed: he deserves your love, there- 
 fore, for he has first loved yow; and this correc- 
 tion is the proof of his love." 
 
 "Would that it mio^ht be so," he said; "but, 
 without doubt, if there be a God, he is necessarily 
 endued with all perfection; and in whatever he 
 does, he will seek the glory of his own nature, and 
 not the gratification of any temporary passion. 
 Nor will he ever exercise one attribute to the ex- 
 clusion of another ; except, perhaps, justice, when 
 he has tried mercy in vain. And this is the 
 thought which still alarms me, lest, in my own 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 149 
 
 case, he has inflicted these calamities upon me ju- 
 dicially, and with no view to any further mercy." 
 
 •* The great scene of God's justice," I replied, 
 *' will he the next world. In this world, whilst 
 we continue in it, our trial and probation will also 
 continue; and consequently, until the very mo- 
 ment of our departure from it, we are capable of 
 amendment. I speak generally; I do not mean to 
 assert that God never inflicts punishment judicially 
 in this world. On the contrary, we sometimes see 
 men struck down in the midst of their vices, with- 
 out any possibility of profiting by the blow. That, 
 perhaps, may be called a judicial punishment ; but 
 I myself believe, that even such persons are snatch- 
 ed away in mercy ; in mercy to others, that so sig- 
 nal an interference of Providence may operate as a 
 warning; and in mercy to themselves, because God 
 foresees, that, if their lives were prolonged, they 
 would abuse the indulgence, and pluck down 
 upon themselves a heavier damnation." 
 
 He shuddered at the word with which I con- 
 cluded my sentence ; but before I could proceed, 
 he inquired despondingly, whether it were not pro- 
 bable, both from reason and Scripture, that God 
 had appointed a term, or limit, beyond which all 
 the avenues to mercy are closed against us. 
 
 •' Is not God himself," he said, '* represented 
 in one of the Psalms, as swearing in his wrath, 
 13* 
 
150 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 that certain men should never enter into his 
 rest?" 
 
 " He is," I answered. " The denunciation is 
 addressed to the Jews in the wilderness, and re- 
 gards the temporal possession of the promised 
 land of Canaan. It has nothing to do with their 
 final salvation ; although, indeed, it might be rea- 
 sonably feared, that the same crimes which ren- 
 dered them unworthy of a temporal rest in Ca- 
 naan, might render them unworthy also of an 
 eternal rest in heaven. But then there is this 
 hope on the other hand, that so striking a punish- 
 ment as that of shutting them up in a barren de- 
 sert, till they were all cut off by death, might have 
 filled many of them with deep contrition and re- 
 morse, and so they might have done what they 
 could, and the best which they knew, individually, 
 if ^not nationally, to reconcile themselves to their 
 offended God. This, however, could not reverse 
 the temporal sentence ; but it might affect the final 
 one. St. Paul undoubtedly applies this text to all 
 Christians ; and, therefore, in their case, rest can 
 only mean the eternal rest in heaven, which is 
 prepared for the righteous. And how does the 
 apostle intend to admonish us? Why, that as 
 God excluded the Jews from Canaan on account 
 of their sins, so will he also exclude unrighteous 
 Christians from heaven, of which Canaan was the 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 151 
 
 type. This being the case, therefore, and life 
 being uncertain, he further admonishes us to cast 
 out betimes the evil heart of unbelief, and not to 
 prolong the day of our repentance, but to seize 
 upon the present moment, which alone is in our own 
 power; and it is implied that the present moment 
 is always in our power. We know nothing there- 
 fore of any period of God's mercy, or of any con- 
 dition of sinners, after which he will no longer 
 strive with them, but withdraw his holy spirit al- 
 together. If there be such a period and such a 
 condition, yet he has nowhere revealed them, and 
 therefore it is impossible for us, and foolish, to 
 conjecture about them. But one thing is certain, 
 that they, from whom the Spirit is withdrawn, will 
 plunge deeper and deeper into sin, if they are per- 
 mitted to live. Every thought of theirs will be 
 evil continually. You may use this test, there- 
 fore, for yourself; and you may derive from it the 
 mighty comfort of being assured, that, if there be 
 any such fatal limit, you have not yet passed it ; on 
 the contrary, that you have receded from it. So 
 wonderful has been the divine goodness towards 
 you, that you have been able to retrace some of 
 your steps ; and, I doubt not, the same goodness is 
 now waiting upon you to be still further gracious. 
 You have reason for hope, but none for despair 1" 
 "Ah!" said the sick man mournfully; "but 
 
152 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 may not my case be like the case of Esau, who 
 found no place for repentance, though he sought 
 it carefully with tears? Such, I think, are the 
 words of St. Paul. I met with them this very 
 morning, and they have made a painful impres- 
 sion upon my spirits." Upon saying this, he wept 
 aloud as Esau had done, and his sister withdrew 
 from the bedside to hide her grief 
 
 " You have mistaken this text," I replied im- 
 mediately, "you have mistaken it entirely. I will 
 explain it presently." Then I followed Mrs. 
 Harrison to the window, and recommended to her 
 to retire into the adjoining room to compose her- 
 self She was aware, I believe, that I might have 
 some particular wish for her absence, and so she 
 obeyed at once, telling me that, if I wanted her, 
 she should be within the hearing of my voice. 
 
 This being arranged, I returned to my post, 
 and sat down on a chair, close by the side of the 
 sick-bed. In a moment Mr. Compton exclaimed, 
 " Oh ! what an excellent woman is my sister. Dr. 
 Warton ! How kind and tender-hearted ! When 
 I think of her as a wife, too, I see and deplore my 
 own loss. The great error of my life strikes me 
 the more forcibly, and under my present circum- 
 stances adds a poignancy to my feelings which is 
 acute and piercing indeed ! Ah ! Dr. Warton, I 
 too might have had such a wife, perhaps, to watch 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 153 
 
 over me with afTectionate care and anxiety in my 
 distress; and children to surround my bed, and 
 lament their father. Oh ! what folly, what mad- 
 ness — it touches me now, it sinks to my very 
 heart ! You do not know enough of my case, 
 Dr. Warton, to see the astonishing folly and mad- 
 ness of it." 
 
 Here his sobs interrupted him, and he did in- 
 deed exemplify the history of Esau. No tears or 
 sobs could now recover the blessing which he had 
 sacrificed for the sake of a present indulgence. 
 It was gone, irreparably, for ever ! I pitied him ; 
 but still, as I doubted whether he had any con- 
 ception of the guilt as well as the folly and mad- 
 ness of the sin to which he had alluded, I thought 
 it would be unseasonable to attempt as yet to 
 soothe his sorrow ; so remembering those beautiful 
 lines of Milton upon wedded love and indiscrimi- 
 nate sensuality, I repeated them to him, and after- 
 wards some others, which are put in the angel's 
 mouth to reprove Adam for the undue and pas- 
 sionate expressions which he used in speaking of 
 his connubial happiness. It occurred to me that 
 I might thus, perhaps, gradually prepare him for 
 another and more essential view of his condition. 
 
 "You have admired, no doubt, before," I said, 
 " but now you feel to your very inmost sense, my 
 good sir, what the divine poet says : 
 
154 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 " Hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source 
 
 Of human offspring — 
 
 By thee adulterous lust was driven from men 
 
 Among the bestial herds to range ; by thee, 
 
 Founded, in reason, loyal, just, and pure, 
 
 Relations dear, and all the charities 
 
 Of father, son, and brother first w^re known. 
 
 Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, 
 
 Whose bed is undefiled— 
 
 Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
 
 His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, 
 
 Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
 
 Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd, 
 
 Casual fruition " 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried out the sick man, " I see 
 now my error and calamity, and my degradation 
 too. It is true enough, promiscuous lusts befits 
 only the bestial herds. It is impure, irrational, 
 unjust, and faithless. Guilt and shame only are 
 its offspring. 
 
 " YeS, yes," he exclaimed, " I despise myself 
 now thoroughly; it is base, and below a man. 
 This is my deliberate judgment. Dr. Warton, not 
 as you might think, the constrained profession of 
 one cut off for ever from every enjoyment. My 
 misery, indeed, has brought me first to the know- 
 ledge of it, but thanks to my misery for disclosing 
 this knowledge to me, and for leading me to view 
 my conduct in its true light, as it really is ah- 
 Btractedly in itself, ugly and hideous." 
 
 " Aye," I said, " and if it be ugly and hideous 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 155 
 
 in your own eyes, what must it be in the eyes of 
 God, Mr. Compton ?" 
 
 "Detestable, sir, and abominable!" he an- 
 swered, in an instant, and with an unusual 
 fervor. 
 
 " Ah ! Dr. Warton, I have argued, (but I will 
 argue so no more,) I have argued at the midnight 
 ball of harlots, and when ill-disguised under the 
 wanton mask, that the gratification of those brutal 
 passions is not criminal ; that Nature herself bids 
 us reach forth our hands, and taste the fruits of 
 pleasure which she has liberally provided for us ; 
 and that none but the morose cynic, the stern 
 lawgiver, and the pensioned preacher, would en- 
 deavor to counteract her simple dictates. I trem- 
 ble when I reflect that such false and hollow 
 arguments have too often succeeded ; but the 
 promised fruits have turned out to be gall and 
 wormwood in the end, if not to the actual taste. 
 Such they are now to ?wc." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," I rejoined, " it is very likely^ 
 and I am glad, for your own sake, that it is so. 
 But how shall the evils done to society, to fami- 
 lies, and to individuals, by such reasonings, and 
 by actions correspondent to such reasonings, how, 
 I say, shall those evils be repaired? We our- 
 selves, by God's wonderful mercy, are spared per- 
 haps to see the horror of our own principles and 
 
156 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 conduct, and to repent from the very heart ; but 
 who knows this, of all the numbers that may have 
 been corrupted by our example ? How few are 
 they who have the opportunity of being improved 
 by our recantation ? Like waves upon the agita- 
 ted surface of a pool of water, which spreads 
 around in wider and wider circles, so does the 
 evil of our bad example diffuse itself daily and 
 hourly, and we have no longer any control over 
 it. Nor does it cease to operate through the me- 
 dium of others even when we die. In truth, it 
 still proceeds when we ourselves lie mouldering 
 in our graves, and the accumulated sum, no doubt, 
 will be charged in part to us hereafter. We can- 
 not reckon it up in imagination even, and we shall 
 be amazed when it stands in array against us; 
 but God has noted it in his book, from time to 
 time, and there it must remain, if God so choose, 
 anobliterated till the final account." 
 
 Mr. Compton was deeply touched with this 
 picture of the evil done to society by a bad exam- 
 ple ; and I might have been disposed to stop, but 
 recollecting how salutary his grief might be to 
 him, I went on almost immediately in the same 
 strain. 
 
 " Think also," I said, " of the misery brought 
 upon private families, and upon the poor victim 
 herself ! Brought up in innocence, we have rob- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 157 
 
 bed her of that jewel. The delight and the stay 
 of her parents, we have spoiled them of their 
 chief comfort and support, and have brought down 
 their gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Hav- 
 ing sacrificed herself to our seductive flatteries, 
 we have cast her off to scorn and a deeper profli- 
 gacy, when we have satiated ourselves with her 
 violated and ruined beauty. We have done this 
 perhaps, and without remorse we have hunted 
 out fresh victims, with a similar result. But 
 what will they say to us when we all stand toge- 
 ther before the last, unerring, impartial, inflexible 
 tribunal ? Will not the parents demand their 
 daughter of us, pure and innocent as they Avould 
 have always wished her to be ? Will not she her- 
 self exclaim, pointing at us with an extreme an- 
 guish, ' There are they who polluted my body 
 and soul with sin;' and will she not without 
 ceasing invoke almighty vengeance upon our 
 heads?" 
 
 My own feelings were so much awakened by 
 these representations, that I paused for a little re- 
 lief; and then, turning towards the sick man, 
 from whom I had studiously averted my counte- 
 nance during this latter speech, that I might ex- 
 press myself with the greater energy, I observed 
 that his face was covered with his handkerchief, 
 and that he was sinking upon his pillows. With- 
 14 
 
158 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 out delay I rang a bell, which was upon a table 
 near me, and immediately Mrs. Harrison entered 
 by one door, and a nurse by the other. 
 
 " Mr. Compton seems faint," I exclaimed ; so 
 they flew to his help, and some hartshorn having 
 been administered, he soon showed symptoms of 
 recovery. However, Mrs. Harrison beckoned 
 me to withdraw, and I went accordingly into the 
 adjoining room, where I found Mr. Harrison in 
 some anxiety. 
 
 " There is no danger," I said, " Mr. Compton 
 is getting better again. He would have fainted, 
 perhaps, if the hartshorn had not instantly reliev- 
 ed him." 
 
 " I was afraid," replied Mr. Harrison, " of 
 another paralytic attack." 
 
 " No," I rejoined, "there was nothing of that 
 sort. He was over aifected, I believe, with the 
 picture which I drew of the results of vicious in- 
 dulgence;" and then 1 related the substance of 
 what had passed between us. 
 
 " Aye, aye, indeed," cried Mr. Harrison, "there 
 is no wonder that he vibrated to that chord. 
 Your supposition was no supposition to him ; 
 facts, facts. Dr. Warton, now speak home to him 
 as loud as thunder. A dark stain, I fear, will 
 rest upon his memory ; and it will require floods 
 of tears to wash out his own guilt. I am glad 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 159 
 
 that you have probed this wound, and that he has 
 himself shown so much sorrow." 
 
 " I knew nothing," I said, " of any particu- 
 lar story ; hut I had a general notion what the 
 habits of his life had been, and it seems likely 
 now that he will never have any other means of 
 showing the sincerity of his repentance but by 
 the abundance of his grief Therefore, I tried to 
 awaken him by pretending to arraign him at the 
 bar above. But pray. Sir, go into the chamber, 
 and bring me word again how matters proceed ; 
 and whether he will bear to see me once more. 
 To leave him thus would be unsatisfactory." 
 
 Mr. Harrison went as I desired, and soon re- 
 turned with a request from Mr. Compton, that I 
 would come back to him. I did so, and found 
 him as at the first ; his sister supporting him, and 
 the nurse having disappeared. Immediately he 
 said, " Dr. Warton, you have compelled me to 
 abhor myself, and to tremble still more than 
 ever for my future lot. A fortnight ago my heart 
 was stubborn and obdurate, and sorrow for sin 
 could not obtain admission there. It was in my 
 head, but it did not reach my heart. Now, in- 
 deed, it is no longer speculative but practical. Yet 
 there is no merit in it to avail me any thing. 
 Here I am, my strength is laid in the dust, my 
 nearest friends can scarcely recognize my features, 
 
160 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 another blow and I am gone. What is now, then, 
 the value of all my past pleasures ? The memo- 
 ry only remains, and the memory is a scorpion ! 
 Sorrow, therefore, in my case, is a sort of neces- 
 sary consequence : it is no virtue, it is not repent- 
 ance, it is a punishment ; for any good, it is like 
 the tears of Esau, too late and unavailable." 
 
 The matter and the manner of this speech 
 were pathetic in the extreme. Mrs. Harrison's 
 tears, as she hung over her brother, dropped upon 
 him. I bore up much better than I could have 
 expected, and replied with sufficient firmness, 
 " God forbid that w.e should attempt to limit his 
 mercy ! His invitations to repentance are full 
 and universal, without qualifications and without 
 bounds, and the examples of forgiveness are co- 
 extensive. The true penitent, the spirit which 
 humbles itself under correction, may look upward 
 and revive. You remind me of the text about 
 Esau. I told you before that you misconstrued 
 it, and so in truth you do. Esau profanely de- 
 spised the blessing of his birthright, and sold it to 
 another. It is said, therefore, in our translation, 
 (but the translation is inaccurate,) that he found 
 no place of repentance, although he sought it care- 
 fully with tears. The real meaning is, that, with 
 all his tears, flowing as they did from his heart, 
 he could not chansfe the mind and determination 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 161 
 
 of his father. His father had spoken propheti- 
 cally by the impulse of the Holy Spirit. He 
 could not repent or retract what he had said. 
 The blessing was immutably attached to Jacob. 
 But though of a spiritual character, it was still but 
 a temporal blessing, and the loss of it did not 
 doom Esau of necessity to an eternal condemna- 
 tion. Yet the story is a lesson and admonition to 
 us, with respect to the great spiritual blessings re- 
 served for us in heaven. If we make light of 
 them, and barter them away for the present sinful 
 indulgences, it is very true God will place them 
 beyond our reach, and we ourselves shall be found 
 amongst those who will weep, and wail, and 
 gnash their teeth in vain. All this, as you say, 
 will be our punishment. It will work no change, 
 no repentance, in the great ruler of the world. 
 Our trial will be over, because our life will be 
 over also. But whilst there is life, there is hope." 
 
 Here I paused, and Mr. Compton, too, was si- 
 lent, — ruminating deeply, as it appeared, upon the 
 argument suggested to him. At length I re- 
 sumed — 
 
 " Yes, I say, whilst our life is prolonged, 
 there is hope of our salvation : unless, indeed, we 
 have apostatized from the faith of the gospel ; un- 
 less we have denied the great Redeemer who 
 bought us ; unless we account the blood of his 
 14* 
 
162 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 covenant profane and useless. If this were so, 
 then, it is true, to whatever extent our life might 
 be prolonged, and however sincere and afflicting 
 our repentance, there would be no hope for us. 
 No repentance built upon foundations of our own 
 invention, upon human reason or natural light, 
 none, in short, but that which rests in Jesus Christ, 
 and in him crucified, will arrest the decree which 
 our sins provoke. God the Father will not be 
 approached but through God the Son. There is 
 but one mediator between God and man, capable 
 of adjusting the differences between them ; name- 
 ly, the God-man, one who partook of the nature 
 of both, and was therefore qualified to transact for 
 both; one who was commissioned by God the 
 Father, and to be accepted with submissive grati- 
 tude by us; one who might not only intercede 
 for us by supplication and prayer, as mere man 
 could do, but plead for us in the fullness of his 
 Godhead, and say, ' I have paid down the whole 
 stipulated ransom for sinners ; I have exemplified, 
 by my sufferings, the divine severity against sin, 
 and have satisfied all his demands; I have sealed 
 and ratified the promise of forgiveness with my 
 own blood : be it now fulfilled ; accept, for my 
 sake, almighty Father, accept the sacrifices of a 
 troubled spirit, in which thy nature delights ; de- 
 spise not the sighings of a broken and contrite 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 163 
 
 heart, which ascend to thee in my name. I am 
 in thee, and thou art in me ; and let every poor 
 penitent upon earth be one with %s.' " 
 
 I was not able, nor, had I been able, should I 
 have been disposed to attempt to add any thing to 
 this. Nor was it necessary. In a moment, in 
 an ecstasy of feeling, the sick man exclaimed, 
 reaching forth his hand in haste, which I grasped 
 with equal eagerness, " Ah ! 1 believe. Dr. War- 
 ton ; I believe — and may God strengthen my be- 
 lief! But pray for me, pray for me, I beseech 
 you !" 
 
 The tears burst into my eyes, but immediately 
 I loosed his hand, and was upon my knees. Mrs. 
 Harrison, with her face covered, did the same. 
 In this situation, before any thing was said, Mr. 
 Harrison came in, impatient at our absence, and 
 was soon, without uttering a word, in the same 
 posture with the rest of us. Then bethinking 
 myself in what I might be most likely not to fail, 
 and what might also fit for the present circum- 
 stances, I drew my prayer-book from my pocket, 
 and opening at the Commination-service, I read 
 the penitential psalm, with some omissions and 
 alterations, afterwards the longer prayer in the 
 same service, then the Lord's prayer, and lastly, 
 the benediction of St. Paul. 
 
 So I rose, and wished to be gone; neither 
 
164 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 caring to have my own feelings observed, nor to 
 observe the feelings of others. But Mr. Compton 
 arrested my step, and inquired if he might be per- 
 mitted to receive the Sacrament. "Yes," I an- 
 swered, " when you will." " To-morrow, then," 
 he said, " at this time, let it be." " It shall," I re- 
 plied, •' if God will ;" and then I hastened away. 
 Mrs. Harrison remained unmoved in the same at- 
 titude of prayer, and her face hid ; Mr. Harrison 
 followed me to the door, and there he pressed my 
 hand, but could not articulate a sentence. Thus 
 closed this interesting, this consolatory scene; 
 and thus, I silently prayed, may God often bless 
 and reward the feeble endeavors of his appointed 
 servants ! 
 
 Before the day was over, a note arrived from 
 Mrs. Harrison, to apologize for having permitted 
 me to depart without her thanks. Her sensations, 
 she said, were so complicated, that she could not 
 describe them, and unhappily they had deprived 
 her for many minutes of all power of attending to 
 proprieties of behavior. But she knew that I 
 did not look for any such poor recompense as that 
 of ceremonious, or even of real gratitude. What 
 would be my fullest and most delightful recom- 
 pense I already had; namely, the certain con- 
 sciousness, that her beloved, but unfortunate bro- 
 ther, was fast acquiring, by my means, the temper 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 165 
 
 and disposition of a Christian. So she expressed 
 herself. The next day I kept my appointment. 
 The due preparations had been made for the ad- 
 ministration of the Sacrament in the sick-chamber ; 
 but the intended communicants were not assem- 
 bled. Mr. Compton was placed as yesterday, 
 and I saw distinctly that his features were much 
 restored towards their natural appearance. On 
 the whole, he pronounced himself better in every 
 way. There were with him Mr. Harrison and a 
 nurse; but as the rest appeared to be slow in 
 coming, he motioned the nurse away, and began 
 to converse with me on one of those subjects 
 which now chiefly occupied his serious thoughts. 
 
 " I have been meditating. Dr. Warton," he 
 said, " upon the holiness of God. It is a sublime, 
 and a fearful speculation." 
 
 " It is," I replied. " We may get some notions 
 of it by metaphysical reasonings ; but those no- 
 tions will be astonishingly enlarged and elevated 
 by Scripture. The descriptions of it there are 
 magnificent in the extreme, and, of course, when 
 we compare ourselves with such a standard, we 
 shrink back with awe and alarm. When we are 
 told, that the Heavens themselves are not clean in 
 God's sight ; that he charges even his angels with 
 folly ; that the very purest spirits which encircle 
 his throne veil their faces with their wings, and 
 
166 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 cannot behold the dazzling purity of their Maker — 
 we have an apt image of him whose name is 
 Holy; whom the cherubim and seraphim inces- 
 santly laud and magnify in their songs with the 
 preamble of Holy, Holy, Holy; and the rest of 
 whose perfections, however ineffable and incon- 
 ceivable, are so much eclipsed by this, that it is 
 on the throne of his holiness that he delights to 
 sit — in his holiness he speaks — by his holiness he 
 swears. But then, as you say, the idea is the 
 more terrific, when we reflect upon ourselves, 
 and conclude, as we must of necessity, that such a 
 Being is of purer eyes than to tolerate the sight 
 of any, the least stain of iniquity in his rational 
 creatures." 
 
 " It is too true," he said ; " and, therefore, who- 
 ever wrote that particular Psalm, it was a proper 
 reflection of the author, that if God should be ex- 
 treme to mark what is done amiss, we could none 
 of us abide it." 
 
 "No, indeed," I answered; "the very purest 
 actions of the very best of human beings would be 
 but splendid sins in his estimation; they would 
 look only like failings white-washed over, in com- 
 parison with his holiness. The eye of the world 
 might see no flaw in them ; the eye of the doer 
 himself, turned inwards, but purblind with self- 
 love, might discover no blot ; but every flaw, and 
 
•THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 167 
 
 every blot, stands out and glares in the perfect mir- 
 ror of the divine excellence. If the mixed motives 
 of men were analyzed, there would be found lurk- 
 ing amongst them too much of human frailty — too 
 much desire of vain glory, to corrupt what other- 
 wise might have been sound and untainted ; so 
 that their actions will never endure the scrutiny of 
 an infinite holiness. If this be so, then, what are 
 we to think when we come to facts ? What be- 
 comes of our arrogant assumptions, when we re- 
 collect, that the great mass of us do not merely fall 
 short of being blameless, but are absolutely sin- 
 ners ? Nor is this the whole of our case. Every- 
 thing proceeding from an impure fountain must be 
 impure itself This is our misfortune. There 
 is an original uncleanness about us, which the 
 Holy One cannot behold with complacency ; and 
 which, when it has shown itself in the production of 
 its proper fruits of actual sin, he must, of necessity, 
 hate and loathe. Where are we now, then, and 
 what shall we do? Shall we dare, with this 
 gross, tainted flesh about us, to approach him, a 
 pure spirit, that inhabiteth eternity — that dwelleth 
 in the high and holy place ?" 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Mr. Compton, " I under- 
 stand it now. We cannot treat with him, nor he 
 with us. We want somebody to smooth and facili- 
 tate the approaches for us ; somebody, call him what 
 
168 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 you will, to mediate between the two parties ; to 
 intercede in behalf of the inferior, and to advocate 
 a cause which would otherwise be hopeless." 
 
 " True," I said, delighted that he had solved 
 the difficulty himself; " this seems a simple pro- 
 position ; but who is there, in the whole universe 
 of things, equal to such a task ? Who is there 
 with authority to undertake it, — with love enough 
 for mankind, in their fallen, corrupt, and ruined 
 state, to desire their recovery from it, and to labor 
 for their restoration ?" 
 
 " I presume," he replied immediately, " that if 
 men had been left to themselves, they could not 
 have found anybody. How, indeed, should they 
 set about it at all ? How could they be brought 
 to concur in one person ; and how could they 
 know that God would accept his office ? Indeed, 
 they were dreadfully ignorant about God himself. 
 The probability is, therefore, that they would 
 never once have thought of such a matter." 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me," I said, " they were always 
 thinking about it. A mediator may well be called 
 the desire of all nations. The v/ant of this was 
 the prolific cause of all those inferior deities and 
 innumerable sacrifices amongst the heathens. 
 These were intended to approximate them to the 
 great Being, the universal Lord of all. Every 
 nation had its peculiar mediator; nay, almost 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 169 
 
 every individual ; as the Papists, absurdly now, iiave 
 each their patron-saint. But one man, at least, in 
 the whole world, was wise enough to see the folly 
 of such a system — I mean Socrates — who said 
 that men would never have any certainty with 
 respect to this great want, until some one should 
 be sent down from heaven to teach them." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Compton, "there he was 
 undoubtedly right. It is manifest, for many co- 
 gent reasons, that the first proposition must come 
 from above." 
 
 " Clearly," I said, delighted again that he had 
 himself suggested such a thought ; " if men had 
 been better acquainted with God than they really 
 were, yet it must have been left to him, as the 
 Sovereign, to declare, whether he would pardon 
 sinners on any conditions ; and if so, then on what 
 conditions ; and whom he would ordain to the im- 
 portant office of making those conditions known, 
 and of carrying them into effect." 
 
 " This is quite reasonable," he answered ; "and 
 so far the Scripture-scheme agrees with the con- 
 clusions of our reason. But now explain to me, 
 if it be possible, why so exalted a person as the 
 Son of God is chosen to this office. Here I have 
 great difficulties. I admit and believe the fact ; 
 but I cannot understand the cause." 
 
 " There is no need," I said ; " but still a very 
 15 
 
170 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 satisfactory cause may be assigned. Are you 
 aware, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was the 
 great Agent in the creation of all things?" 
 
 "I was always aware," he replied, •' that it 
 was supposed to be so stated in Scripture ; and I 
 knew of the famous text, in the beginning of John, 
 which is generally adduced to prove it. But I 
 confess the whole thing appeared to me so incredi- 
 ble, that I never examined the question for myself. 
 Supposing it, however, to be so, how does his be- 
 ing the Creator account for all the rest?" 
 
 • " You shall hear what I think about it pre- 
 sently," I said ; "but first it may be useful to you, 
 if I were to repeat the splendid passage of St. 
 Paul in his Epistle to the Colossians. After 
 calling Jesus Christ the image of the invisible 
 God, he goes on in this manner : 'By him were 
 all things created, that are in heaven, and that are 
 in earth, visible, and invisible, whether they be 
 thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers ; 
 all things were created by him, and for him ; and 
 he is before all things, and by him all things con- 
 sist.' This is sublime, it must be allowed ; but is 
 it not also full enough, and plain enough, to satisfy 
 the most scrupulous, who admit the Scriptures at 
 least, that Christ made the worlds and man?" 
 
 " Without all doubt," he answered. 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " now hear the sequel ; 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 171 
 
 * This same is the head of the body, the Church, 
 that in all things he might have the pre-eminence. 
 For it pleased the Father that in him should 
 all fullness dwell ; and, having made peace through 
 the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all 
 things unto himself " 
 
 " A most striking passage, indeed!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Compton. " It asserts or implies, I think, 
 every office that divines ascribe to Christ." 
 
 " It does," I said, " and, what is more, it con- 
 nects them together. But tell me ; have not they, 
 who make things, generally the most care c6n- 
 cerning them?" 
 
 " So it should seem probable," he replied. 
 
 " And if the thing made," I said, " wei:e so won- 
 derfui, so excellent, so noble a creature as man, 
 do you suppose that the Maker would care the 
 less about him, or the more, in proportion to the 
 distinguished blessings and qualities which he 
 bestowed upon him?" 
 
 *♦ The more, certainly," he answered. 
 
 ♦' Do parents," I asked, " appear to you to 
 eare what becomes of their children ?" 
 
 " Intensely," he replied. 
 
 " And the more intensely, perhaps," I said, 
 " the more perfect and excellent they themselves, 
 the parents, are?" 
 
 ♦* I should imagine so," was his answer. 
 
172 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 " And if their children fall into danger or dis- 
 tress," I inquired, " do not the bowels of their 
 parents absolutely yearn over them ; and are not 
 all their affections and powers let loose at once, 
 whether to pity, to succor, or to restore them?" 
 
 " No doubt of it," was his reply. 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " Christ made man ; and 
 how divine the work was, we know by the ruins 
 of it which remain, although so dreadfully defaced. 
 What wonder, then, that he should compassionate 
 the workmanship of his own hands, so noble a 
 creature fallen from the high estate in which his 
 bounty had placed him, and in danger of an eter- 
 nal misery ? Could he look on and not be moved ? 
 Could he be moved, and not attempt to save his 
 own offspring? Could he suffer the most glori- 
 ous part of his dominion to be lost, without wish- 
 ing and endeavoring to recover it? Hence, then, 
 he becomes, he who was the Creator, becomes, 
 reasonably and naturally, the Mediator, the In- 
 tercessor, the Advocate, the Redeemer, the Sa- 
 vior of mankind. Who so likely, who so proper, 
 to undertake and fulfil all these offices for them, 
 as he who made them at the first, and has pre- 
 served them ever since by his providence ? And 
 observe, the same person shall at last be our 
 Judge. Well, therefore, may they, who accept 
 him under all those offices, anticipate mercy, and 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 173 
 
 they, who despise or reject him, judgment without 
 mercy." 
 
 Mr. Compton trembled, but made no answer ; 
 and at this instant his sister entered, with several 
 servants, and inquired if I would permit them to 
 partake of the Lord's Supper in company with 
 their master. 
 
 " By all means," I answered, " It is a very 
 favorable opportunity. They have been for a 
 long time the inmates of a sick house: this, I 
 should expect, must have awakened in their minds 
 serious thoughts with regard to themselves. We 
 are none of us sure at any time beyond the single 
 pulse which beats; but the constant sight of a 
 death-bed prevents us from disguising this fact 
 from ourselves, and urges us forcibly to prepare 
 for that destiny which awaits us all. However, 
 they must ask themselves this question, before I 
 put it to them in the course of the solemn service ; 
 whether they are at peace with their fellow-men, 
 as they would be at peace with their God ; and 
 whether they grieve for their past sins, and hate 
 them so far as to resolve henceforth, to the best of 
 their power, to walk in newness of life." 
 
 " I have examined them. Sir," said Mr. Har- 
 rison, " as to all these points, and their answers 
 are very satisfactory." 
 
 *• Very well, then," I replied ; '• they may par- 
 15* 
 
174 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 take of this private Sacrament ; but I advise them 
 to receive the Sacrament publicly in the church, 
 upon the first occasion that offers, and, indeed, to 
 establish themselves in the regular practice of it. 
 God loves the celebration of his ordinances in the 
 appointed places ; but where it cannot be done, as 
 in the case before us, we trust that he will gra- 
 ciously accept the will for the deed." 
 
 After this I administered the holy rite ; and a 
 remarkable circumstance occurred, which at first 
 alarmed me, as being a deviation from strict order; 
 but it appeared to produce a good effect, and there- 
 fore I did not interrupt it. When I presented the 
 wine to the sick man, he held the cup in his hand 
 for a few moments, and then addressed the other 
 communicants as follows : — 
 
 " I am glad to see so many of you present, 
 upon an occasion which is deeply awful to my- 
 self, and may be very useful to you. The greater 
 part of you know only my calamities ; there are 
 but two who have been long enough in my ser- 
 vice to be personally acquainted with the habits of 
 my former life, before I was roused from my se- 
 curity by this severe but merciful blow. I intreat 
 them to pardon me for the bad example which I 
 have set them ; and I hope, that both they, and 
 the rest of you, will all be admonished to your 
 profit by so sad a spectacle. I have sinned — I 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 175 
 
 confess it — ^basely and heinously; I have done 
 deeds " 
 
 We were waiting in breathless expectation for 
 the conclusion of the sentence. He began it with 
 energy; but the recollection, I presume, of the 
 deeds themselves — black, no doubt, and corroding 
 the conscience — suddenly oppressed his voice, and 
 denied utterance to any thing but sighs. In an 
 instant, every eye that was upon him shed tears 
 of sympathy. At length he was aware of it, and 
 by a great ejffort resumed his speech. 
 
 " I will not wound your feelings, nor waste 
 your time, by a particular enumeration of my 
 sins, or by aggravating the enormity of them. I 
 will reserve that duty for my own conscience, for 
 the great God above, and for the minister of 
 Christ, if he require it of me. But, believe me, 
 amongst the various errors and sins of my life, I 
 am most deeply sorry for my neglect of this holy 
 sacrament.* I have partaken of it but twice only ; 
 once very properly, but, alas ! without any due 
 effect. It was by the side of my excellent mo- 
 
 ♦ In the church of England the Sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper is administered to all who are willing to receive it, 
 and it is required as a preliminary step to entering upon the 
 duties of any office under government. Hence the rite is re- 
 garded very difTerently from what it is in this country, as will 
 be seen by the conversation which follows. 
 
176 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 ther's death bed. Would that I had obeyed all her 
 counsels, which her departed goodness and wis- 
 dom should have sanctified to my ears ! Per- 
 haps she observes me now from her sainted 
 
 sphere, and " 
 
 Here he stopped again in th€ bitterness of his 
 soul. All our tears redoubled ; his sister sobbed 
 aloud ; but soon once more he resumed, and finish- 
 ed. " The other occasion, upon which I took the 
 Sacrament, was not a worthy one. It was a mere 
 form, and to comply with the laws of my country, 
 when I wished to become a magistrate. Perhaps 
 she is wrong in imposing the necessity of so sa- 
 cred and awful a ceremony- but at all events^ I 
 myself was wrong in taking the Sacrament with 
 worldly views. It is not unlikely that my mo- 
 tives may be mistaken noAv. Some one may sur- 
 mise, that I am constrained by the fear of death. 
 The fear of death has been wholesome to me, I 
 allow ; and I thank God for giving me the two 
 warnings which I have had. But I am under no 
 apprehensions of immediate death. On the con- 
 trary, the doctors throw out hopes of life, and you 
 yourselves see how much better I am to-day. 1 
 receive this Sacrament, therefore, deliberately, 
 and not in haste ; from conviction, not from alarm ; 
 with gratitude, and warmth of affection, not with 
 a cold thanklessness ; with hope, and not in de- 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 177 
 
 spair. I receive it, with a firm resolution to neg- 
 lect it no more, and with a humble prayer that 
 God may bless it to my present and everlasting 
 welfare." 
 
 This being said, he emptied the cup, and re- 
 turned it to me ; so I performed what remained of 
 the ceremony, and took my leave, expressing my 
 wish aloud, that the sick man might be left as 
 quiet as possible, to meditate upon the solemn 
 scene which had just been acted, and to realize 
 some of its immediate benefits. It was his own 
 wish too, he said ; so we all retired but a single 
 nurse, who remained to watch over his solitude. 
 
 In the afternoon of the following day I visited 
 Mr. Compton again. He had given directions, 
 that if I called, I should be brought to his cham- 
 ber at once. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison were with him 
 there. He was well enough to have been lifted 
 from his bed, and placed in a large easy chair, 
 where he sat wrapt up in flannels, and supported 
 with pillows. I should have inferred, from the 
 more cheerful air and relaxation of his features, 
 that he imagined the bitterness of death to be 
 past ; but to my first simple observation upon his 
 improved appearance, he answered, immediately, 
 shaking his head, and contracting his brow, " I 
 have no dependance upon it whatever. I may 
 live, certainly ; but since my second attack, which 
 
178 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 was almost as unexpected as the first, my expect- 
 ations of life have been much diminished. The 
 present calm does not deceive me. No, Dr. War- 
 ton, it is not so much the freedom from pain, and 
 the recovery of a little strength, and this change 
 of situation and posture, which have improved 
 my appearance ; as the disburdening of my con- 
 science, the practice of repentance, the belief of 
 the Christian religion, the knowledge of some of 
 the reasons upon which it is founded, and the par- 
 taking of the holy Sacrament yesterday. These 
 are the several things, which, by their combined 
 influence, have produced the effect which you 
 perceive, and upon which you congratulate me. 
 But even in these respects I have much to do ; 
 and I am well aware how humble I ought to be." 
 All this was admirable, and it was impossible 
 not to be delighted with it. " Very well, then," 
 I said, " you have now proved by your own ex- 
 perience, that the practice of repentance, so painful 
 to the imagination, is not so painful in the act ; or, 
 at least, that it is attended at every step with the 
 consolation, the comfort, and the revival of the 
 broken spirit. It is not like the sorrow which 
 ensues upon the loss of worldly things, and sinks 
 the man down to the confines of the grave, having 
 no support, and no hope ; it is a sort of holy sor- 
 row ; it has a cleansing power derived from the 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 179 
 
 merits and promises of the Savior ; it restores the 
 man to himself; it settles him in a peace and tran- 
 quillity unknown before ; amidst storms and tem- 
 pests without, it introduces a sunshine into his 
 own breast ; it encourages him to repose on the 
 Mediator, and to look up through him to a recon- 
 ciled God. This is the process, Mr. Compton, 
 through which you yourself have gone ; difficult 
 and painful, and almost impossible, when con- 
 templated from a distant point; but satisfactory 
 in every step, and most happy in the whole 
 result." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," he replied, "and that the Sacra- 
 ment has crowned the rest. In the way in which 
 I have taken it, I consider myself as having ac- 
 knowledged one main truth of Christianity, that 
 Christ died for the sins of the world. I under- 
 stand it to be a memorial of his death, through all 
 ages ; and I understand the receiving of it to be a 
 public testimony that we are in covenant with him. 
 By baptism we entered into that covenant ; by this 
 Sacrament, I presume, we keep up the recollec- 
 tion, and put in our claim to the benefit of it." 
 
 " You are quite right," I said ; " but, besides 
 the general benefits of the Christian covenant, 
 there are particular and immediate benefits, with- 
 out doubt, arising to all who partake worthily. It 
 is impossible to think, that Christ is himself pre- 
 
180 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 sent in this Sacrament, without some peculiar 
 blessing attending it." 
 
 " But how is that ?" he inquired. " Is the pre- 
 sence of Christ any thing more than a strong 
 figure for his influence and efficacy?" 
 
 " Yes," I said, " he is really present, but not 
 bodily ; neither by the conversion of the bread 
 into his bodily substance, which is called transub- 
 stantiation, nor by the union of his body with the 
 bread, which is called consubstantiation ; his pre- 
 sence is after a spiritual manner." 
 
 " It seems, then," I continued, " that, besides, 
 the general benefits to be expected from an obe- 
 dience to the dying command of our Savior, and 
 from so positive a profession, as we make at the 
 altar, of devoting ourselves to his service, and from 
 the sacred act of acknowledging the inestimable 
 value of his death, and our trust in it as an atone- 
 ment for sin, and for our own sins in particular ; 
 besides all this, there is something else, which is 
 more, I think, than a mere figure ; some invisible 
 union, perhaps, which takes place between him- 
 self and us, to our sanctification ; some seed, as it 
 were, implanted within us, which tends thencefor- 
 ward to the production of the rich fruits of right- 
 eousness and holiness of life. And this, I appre- 
 hend, is effected by the intervention of the Holy 
 Ghost, whom I formerly represented to you as 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 181 
 
 bearing a most important part in the great busi- 
 ness of our salvation. In fact, Scripture so states 
 the matter, that without the help of the Holy- 
 Ghost we cannot take a single step towards that 
 glorious end ; and it is by this, his spirit, that Jesus 
 Christ, as the God-man, is present, and acts every- 
 where. So far as his divine nature solely is con- 
 cerned, he is every where, and at all times pre- 
 sent personally, like God the Father; but in his 
 mixed nature, by which he is chiefly related to 
 us, he himself resides in heaven, at the right 
 hand of the paternal majesty, and his spirit is his 
 representative here upon earth." 
 
 " Would it not be a simpler and m.ore intelligi- 
 ble notion," inquired Mr. Compton, " if we were to 
 consider the Holy Ghost as a quality rather than 
 a distinct person, or as the spirit of God, in the 
 same manner that the soul is the spirit of man ?" 
 
 " It is purely a matter of revelation," I an- 
 swered, " and therefore we must take it precisely 
 as it is revealed. But we should gain nothing in 
 point of intelligibleness by the notions which you 
 suggest, and we should lose in other respects. If 
 the Holy Ghost were to God what the soul is to 
 man, we must change all our plainest ideas of 
 God himself, whom we suppose to be one pure, 
 unmixed, and unmodified spirit; and, if he were 
 merely a quality, how could he act at all % No, 
 16 
 
182 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 nothing can be clearer than that the Comforter, as 
 Christ calls him, is a person distinct from the 
 Father and the Son, but so connected with them 
 as to proceed from both. The origin of the Son, 
 we are told, is by some mode of generation totally 
 unknown, and inconceivable by us ; yet such, no 
 doubt, as to occasion that peculiar relation which 
 is expressed by Father and Son. Of the origin of 
 the Holy Ghost we know nothing; except that, 
 whatever may be meant by his proceeding from 
 the other two, it was from all eternity. And this 
 circumstance of his being eternal, together with 
 the other things ascribed to him in Scripture, com- 
 pel us to make him a partaker of the Godhead. 
 The work eissigned to him in promoting our sanc- 
 tification and salvation requires the powers of the 
 Godhead, and therefore, it is of deep importance 
 to us to know and believe that he has them. We 
 rely upon him with an unshaken confidence, be- 
 cause we are assured that his power and inclina- 
 tion to save us are concurrent, and the same with 
 those of the Father and the Son. And to obtain 
 his mighty aid, we have only to pray for it and to 
 use it. This is the practical part of the doctrine, 
 which is open to the meanest understanding, and 
 wants no metaphysical interpretation." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Compton, " I perceive all that 
 very clearly. There is a simple mode of viewing 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 183 
 
 these matters, which is adapted to the general un- 
 derstanding and necessities of mankind ; and there 
 is another which may occupy the highest thoughts 
 of the highest genius." 
 
 •' So it is," I replied, " but, unfortunately, many 
 men in different ages, have run wild in their high 
 speculations, and thence arose the expediency of 
 creeds to fix the boundaries of those speculations. 
 The safe thing is, to adopt this rule of Scripture — 
 * The secret things belong unto the Lord our God, 
 but those things which are revealed, belong unto 
 us, and our children for ever.' " 
 
 In this sentiment they all appeared to ac- 
 quiesce, so, after a short pause, being desirous to 
 go, I proposed that we should kneel down, and 
 join together in a short prayer. This being 
 readily assented to, I took the 103d Psalm for my 
 basis, and altered, and added, as it suited my ideas 
 of the present emergency. The effect, apparently, 
 was such as I might have wished. I then pro- 
 nounced the Lord's Prayer, and the benediction ; 
 which being finished, I rose and departed. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Harrison would have accompanied me, 
 but I did not permit them. 
 
 After the last conversation, I saw Mr. Compton 
 several times, and talked with him as usual. His 
 faith and repentance appeared to me to be both of 
 them lively and sincere, and I was glad to per- 
 
184 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 ceive no tendency whatever to fanaticism about 
 him, either in his language or conduct. The lan- 
 guage, indeed, of fanaticism, which betrays itself 
 in an instant to those who know any thing of it, he 
 had never learnt or heard, and it does not come 
 naturally to any body. His conduct always disco- 
 vered a proper self-humiliation, and a true distrust 
 of himself Because he had undergone an entire 
 change of heart and sentiment, he did not, there- 
 fore, assure himself of his indefeasible salvation, 
 or arrogantly assume that he was sealed for 
 heaven. He looked back upon his past life, and 
 was abased in his own eyes ; and he looked for- 
 ward, not indeed without the hope of a modest 
 diffidence, but still with much of its fear and trem- 
 bling. Perfect love casteth out fear, and he was 
 inclined to love with all his heart ; but he had yet 
 had no experience in the ways of God ; his condi- 
 tion was but the beginning of wisdom, and, there 
 fore, it was very properly accompanied with a 
 wholesome fear. Of this feeling I greatly ap- 
 proved. I am shocked, and my blood almost runs 
 cold within me, when I hear, as I too often do, of 
 the greatest of sinners, with no time for solid re- 
 pentance, quitting the world with all the religious 
 assurance of the greatest of saints ; dying, in 
 short, in the worst of causes, as if they died in the 
 very best. Even the thief upon the cross was 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 185 
 
 humble, and acknowledged his own baseness. 
 Never could I court the vain applause of having 
 worked up the minds and imagination of the pro- 
 fligate to a feeling of security with respect to 
 another world. It is a bad example for others, it 
 is deeply hazardous for themselves. The convic- 
 tion of the certainty of salvation, is not salvation 
 itself, it may be a most dangerous downfall. 
 
 During this interval, Mr. Compton busied 
 himself, I believe, in works of charity. He had 
 been too selfish before, and had spent his whole 
 income upon his private indulgences. Now he 
 employed his sister to look for persons in distress, 
 and to relieve them ; and he subscribed liberally 
 to all the benevolent institutions of the parish. 
 But his career of doing good was short. One 
 night, his female nurse only being in attendance 
 upon him, came the third paralytic attack, which 
 ended fatally. 
 
 I was sent for early in the morning. He was 
 lying in his bed upon his back, with his eyes 
 closed. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison were standing by ; 
 the former in deep thought, the latter in tears, I 
 spoke — his lips moved, but he could not articulate 
 anything. I pressed his hand gently ; he grasp- 
 ed mine with strength without loosing it. " It 
 pleases God," I said aloud, " to preserve his un- 
 derstanding to him in this great extremity. Let 
 16* 
 
186 THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 
 
 US seize the precious moment, and spend it in 
 prayer." He understood me, and let go my hand. 
 Immediately we were all upon our knees, and I 
 read the prayer appointed for those who have small 
 hope of recovery. When it was finished, 1 rose 
 and took his hand again ; and, putting my face 
 close to his, I asked him if he had heard and com- 
 prehended me. I thought that he answered " yes," 
 but he gave me a sufficient sign by pressing my 
 hand with vigor, and still retaining it. I aske4 
 again if he was firm in the faith of Jesus Christ ; 
 again he pressed my hand, and then loosed it. I 
 concluded that any more questions would only 
 disturb his last moments, so I pronounced over 
 him a benediction, and prepared to go. Indeed, I 
 could do no more. Hesitating a little, at length I 
 went without being noticed ; Mr. and Mrs. Har- 
 iiison still remaining upon their knees. 
 
 In three hours I returned, expecting to hear 
 that all was over. He was alive, and I was de- 
 sired to go up stairs. Very soon, as I mounted 
 them, I heard a dreadful noise, of very hard 
 breathing, which it is difficult to describe. I start- 
 ed at first, but finding it to be repeated at regular 
 intervals, I too wxll understood what it was. The 
 door into the eick-chamber, at the top of the stair- 
 case, wa« wide open. I passed rapidly by it, but 
 I had a glimpse of the dying man as he lay in 
 
THE MAIN ARGUMENT. 187 
 
 the same position as before, with his nostrils dis- 
 tended, and his mouth gaping. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Harrison were in the sitting-room. She was on 
 her knees, and her husband was supporting her. 
 The sight had been too appalling for them, and 
 they had retired here. 
 
 I stepped softly into the adjoining chamber, 
 but the rolling of thunder over our heads would 
 not have awaked Mr. Compton now. I came to 
 the side of his bed, knelt down, and performed, as 
 well as I could, the painful duty of commending 
 his departing spirit to the Savior's hands. The 
 noise of his breathing was terrific ; and every gasp 
 seemed as if it would be the last. His mouth 
 foamed, and his eyes were closed. I soon de- 
 scended the stairs, but the terrible noise pursued 
 me till the door was shut upon me. In imagina- 
 tion I heard it afterwards wherever I went during 
 the day. The next morning I heard that the 
 poor patient's sufferings were over. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 As I was presiding one night in the Select 
 Vestry, I observed a poor woman, amongst many 
 others, applying for Parochial relief. Her hus- 
 band's sickness was the plea; and as we all knew 
 that he was now grown old, and had seen better 
 days, her request was granted without any oppo- 
 sition or difficulty whatever ; and without putting 
 any questions to her, which might have wounded 
 her feelings under the circumstances of her dis- 
 tress. Five shillings, however, were all that were 
 given at that time out of the rate for the poor ; and 
 I therefore determined to visit the sick man the 
 following morning, to ascertain by inquiry upon 
 the spot what was his real condition; to assist 
 him, if necessary, out of my private charity funds ; 
 and more especially to discharge my spiritual 
 functions for the good of his soul. 
 
 Indeed, I had no doubt, that this was the help 
 of which he stood most in need. At church I had 
 never seen him during the whole course of my 
 ministry. Common fame reported him to be an 
 Infidel, or even an Atheist. His habits had been 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 189 
 
 to live in the alehouse amongst the lowest com- 
 pany, whom he harangued against the govern- 
 ment and against Christianity; and being much 
 superior to those with whom he associated, and 
 having also no small fluency of talking, he con- 
 vinced and corrupted many of his hearers. In 
 the mean time, having a little smattering of law, 
 he pretended to give advice upon legal matters, 
 and earned a penny now and then by setting his 
 neighbors together by the ears. If letters or pe- 
 titions were wanted, he was the man to write them 
 for what he could get. He measured land also ; 
 and thus, by these various methods, picking up a 
 scanty subsistence, and enjoying continued health, 
 without the burden of a family, he had dragged 
 on to the age of three score years and ten ; and, 
 as far as appeared, never once troubled himself 
 with the thoughts of another world, which was to 
 come hereafter, and to last for ever. 
 
 To myself, without knowing me personally, 
 he was decidedly hostile. In his cups, as I was 
 informed, he never ceased to abuse the Parson ; 
 and sometimes I was assailed by anonymous 
 letters, which were suspected to come from his 
 pen. 
 
 Such was the person, whom I proposed to visit, 
 under the favorable circumstances of poverty and 
 sickness, in the hope that I might take advantage of 
 
190 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 them, and do something for his everlasting benefit. 
 His house was at the distance of one mile and a 
 half from mine ; but upon inquiry I found that he 
 had been compelled to quit it ; that all his best 
 furniture had been seized and sold to satisfy the 
 demands of the landlord; and that he himself, un- 
 able to walk on account of his infirmities, had 
 been carried out in a great chair to an obscure 
 lodging in the neighborhood. All this betokened 
 considerable distress, which was ordained, no 
 doubt, by the good providence of God, to create 
 serious reflection upon the past, and to awaken 
 salutary ideas of futurity. Having received this 
 information, my hopes were increased, that I 
 might be a successful, although a humble instru- 
 ment in God's hands, for the accomplishment of 
 his gracious purposes of love and mercy. 
 
 In the cottage, where he had taken up his 
 abode, there was a poor family living on the 
 ground'floor ; he himself and his wife occupying a 
 single chamber above. The wife, having been 
 called down to me below, immediately conducted 
 me up to her husband. He was setting in the great 
 chair by the side of a small fire. His face, which 
 I saw first, was red and bloated, and his -eyes in- 
 flamed. His feet, legs, and thighs, were so much 
 swelled, that the heels of his shoes were down, 
 and the knees of his breeches unbuttoned. His 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 191 
 
 body too was of an enormous size, both because 
 he was of a corpulent habit, and in consequence 
 of the dropsy, under which he now manifestly la- 
 bored. His waistcoat was open to avoid pres- 
 sure. On his head he wore a red night-cap. 
 Close by him was a table covered with the va- 
 rious drugs and fomentations which his disease 
 required. The chamber was crowded with the 
 wreck of his property ; an old bed without cur- 
 tains; some broken chairs; pots, kettles, jugs, 
 and sundry other wares : all the worse for use. 
 
 The best chair that could be found was ap- 
 propriated to me; which his wife first carefully 
 dusted, and then placed in the most vacant spot. 
 In the mean time she had already introduced me 
 by name, but she did not^ seem to comprehend 
 who I was; so I said, " I have been told. Sir, that 
 you are not very fond of ministers, and I presume 
 therefore you did not expect that a minister would 
 come to see you ; no, not even your own. But 
 here I am ; not deterred by general report ; and 
 my intention and desire is to do you all the good 
 that may lie in my power." 
 
 " Oh!" he replied, »itis Dr. Warton, is ifi I 
 beg your pardon. Sir ; T did not know you Pray 
 sit down. Sir. I fear, Sir, you have got a wrong 
 opmion of my character, for want of being better 
 acquamted with me. I have a great many ene- 
 
192 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 mies in the parish, and they have not scrupled to 
 slander me to you." 
 
 " Well, well," I said, " let us talk and think no 
 more of that ; at all events, we will be friends now, 
 if you will. And you may be perfectly sure, 
 that, in thus visiting you, I can have no private 
 interest of my own in view. Your welfare is my 
 sole object." 
 
 To this he assented, and thanked me for my 
 kindness towards him. 
 
 Having thus begun with tolerable good omens, 
 I proceeded to inquire about his sickness, express- 
 ing my fears that it was both painful and danger- 
 ous. In answer, he was very communicative; 
 and it appeared that his disorder was distressing 
 in the extreme; a vast mass of water collecting 
 perpetually, and discharging itself through every 
 pore of his body ; and his respiration being at 
 times so much impeded, that he had scarcely 
 breath enough to tell me his own story. He had 
 been at the nearest hospital, in an early stage of 
 his complaint, when it seemed to be within the 
 reach of art ; but had unwisely returned home, 
 before the proper system was tried, because he 
 was deprived of many little things which he con- 
 sidered essential to his comfort. Since this the 
 disorder had increased rapidly ; yet he would not 
 admit any idea of danger. In fact, he was mani- 
 
 \ 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 193 
 
 festly afraid to die. I put him in mind of his ad- 
 vanced age, and of the usually terrible effects of 
 dropsy, which in his case were too evident even 
 to myself Still he was most reluctant to enter- 
 tain a thought of death ; and he proposed to me 
 to obtain admission for him into another hospital 
 at a greater distance, but where the medical at- 
 tendants, as he flattered himself, were men of 
 greater skill. I promised to do this, and named 
 a day in the following week for his departure. 
 
 This being settled, I next asked him, as deli- 
 cately as I could, what was the state of his pecu- 
 niary matters ; insinuating gently, that I thought 
 it possible, from what I had heard, and from what 
 I now saw, he might want a little assistance, 
 which I should be able and happy to give. On 
 this point he was very reserved, and would not at 
 all acknowledge his diflicuhies. Of course he 
 was ignorant that I knew of his application to the 
 parish ; and 1 thought it might be very detrimen- 
 tal to the success of my other objects, if I then 
 mentioned it to him ; so I turned it off, by saying 
 that I would talk that matter over with his wife, 
 when I went away. I did so at the door, stating 
 my surprise also that he should endeavor to con- 
 ceal his circumstances from me. ** Ah ! Sir," she 
 said, " pride, pride, is the cause. He has too high 
 notions to confess his poverty; and yet, without 
 17 
 
194 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 the relief which I had last night from the officers, 
 we should have been in some danger of starving.'* 
 I gave her what was necessary for the present, 
 promising to add to it hereafter ; and I thought 
 with myself, that, possibly, his prejudices against 
 me, not yet sufficiently softened down, having led 
 him to consider me his enemy, he was unwilling 
 to furnish me with that sort of triumph, which an 
 enemy might have enjoyed in witnessing his desti- 
 tute condition. Afterwards, when he knew me bet- 
 ter, he had no false shame, or other difficulty about 
 it ; but received my offers readily and gratefully. 
 
 However, I was now to come to the most im- 
 portant subject, without being in possession of this 
 great advantage ; and I said, " Your woildly af- 
 fairs, I fear. Sir, are in a very unprosperous state ; 
 and your body is certainly afflicted with a dread- 
 ful disease. What is there in your case to bear 
 up your spirits under such an accumulation of 
 calamity? Your mind, I hope, is not diseased, 
 as well as your body." 
 
 " My mind," he replied, rather sternly, as dis- 
 liking to be questioned, and yet by no means 
 with the tone of a man really tranquil at heart, "my 
 mind is quite at ease. Sir ;" but his whole coun- 
 tenance and restless air showed that is was not so. 
 
 I saw it ; but I said, " I wish indeed it were 
 so; provided your tranquility were founded on 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 195 
 
 solid grounds. To be called out of this world 
 into eternity with an uneasy conscience, is most 
 terrible; but it is equally unsafe to depart with false, 
 delusive hopes. May I be permitted, therefore, 
 to ask you, (as I am sure I ask only for your own 
 good, and not out of an idle curiosity, or with any 
 foolish desire of disputation, under such circumstan- 
 ces,) what those grounds are on which you rely?" 
 
 " I will tell you plainly," he answered ; " if I 
 die, of which, however, I do not see any present 
 danger, I shall either be nothing at all, or I shall 
 not be miserable. My conscience does not ac- 
 cuse me of any crime." 
 
 " It seems, then," I said, " that you think it 
 possible that death may be followed by an entire 
 annihilation ; but also, on the other hand, thinking 
 it possible, likewise, that there may be a future 
 state, which will be a state of retribution, you have 
 made due preparation for this latter alternative." 
 
 To this he answered, without hesitation, ** I do 
 not pretend to have made any other preparation, 
 than by doing justice always to my neighbors." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Sir," I replied, " does not the ex- 
 perience of us all agree in this with Scripture, 
 'that there is not one just man upon earth, who 
 doeth good and sinneth not?' " 
 
 He took up the word Scripture hastily, and 
 said, " I have no objection, Sir, to talk with you; 
 
196 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 but with what you call Scripture I have nothing 
 to do. I put no faith in it. We do not want it. 
 Let a man do his duty, and he has nothing to fear." 
 This he spoke with a most decided air, and collect- 
 ing all his breath to utter the sentiment. His ve- 
 hemence, indeed, exhausted him ; and he was com- 
 pelled to pause before he could finish his sentence. 
 It v^ras too evident that he wished Christianity to be 
 false. 
 
 I interposed with coolness ; *' But you will 
 admit, I suppose, Sir, the morality of the gospel 
 at least ; and therefore, must consent to be tried by 
 it, as the rule of your actions." 
 
 "I allow," he said, "the morality of the gos- 
 pel to be excellent. But what is that to me ?" 
 
 " It concerns you in this manner," I replied ; 
 •* every man must be tried according to the best 
 rule with which he is acquainted. If the morals 
 of the gospel be the best that we know, which you 
 seem to grant, we must be tried by those morals. 
 You would not have a man, I presume, who 
 knows a superior law, to be tried afterwards by 
 an inferior one ? Put the divine origin of the law 
 for the present quite out of the question ; and yet 
 you see, that if your conscience tells you that one 
 law exceeds another in perfection, it tells you, at 
 the same time, that you must obey the better law, 
 and that you will be judged by it." 
 
 \ 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 197 
 
 He was apparently staggered and alarmed, 
 looking as if he was afraid that he should be sur- 
 prised into some conclusion, which he might not 
 like ; but I did not wish to profit by his temporary 
 confusion, and so endeavor to push the argu- 
 ment further than it would reasonably go. I con- 
 tinued, therefore, in this manner: — "You tell me 
 that your consience accuses you of no crime ; and 
 that you have always done justice to your neigh- 
 bot. But how has your conscience been enlight- 
 ened ? What notions have you formed of crimes, 
 of justice, of your neighbor? He who would be 
 most enlightened on these subjects, must study the 
 gospel; and he who would discharge all his du- 
 ties with propriety, to God and man, must make 
 the gospel his model. This cannot be well de- 
 nied. Have you, therefore, done this, which you 
 are bound to do by natural reason 7 And if you 
 have tried to do it, do you not perceive, instantly, 
 your own deficiencies ? When you compare your 
 life with the perfect, holy, sublime law of the gos- 
 pel, do you not see and acknowledge immediately, 
 how far, how astonishingly far, you have come 
 short of the glory of God? If I were to scruti- 
 nize your actions from your youth upwards, could 
 you lay your hand upon your heart, and say, all 
 these I have faithfully performed ? Has the fear 
 of God been constantly before your eyes? Have 
 17* 
 
198 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 you loved him with all the faculties of your heart 
 and mind ; and prayed to him for his blessings ; 
 and thanked him for every mercy, even when he 
 afflicted you? What has been your conduct to 
 your parents? Did you never wilfully disobey 
 them, or create them any pain ? How have you 
 served your king and country ? Have you never 
 misrepresented his government and actions, so as 
 to render others dissatisfied with them, and thus to 
 become discontented subjects? Have you never 
 spoken evil of dignities ; which the gospel, con- 
 sulting the peace and happiness of mankind, 
 strictly forbids? Have you extended your ideas 
 of neighborhood as the gospel directs you, so as 
 to embrace within the compass of it, countryman 
 and stranger, friend and enemy ; and especially 
 every child of sorrow ? And then, have you been 
 active in performing all the duties that spring from 
 these wide relations ? Have you loved your very 
 enemies? Or have you indulged the sinful pas- 
 sions of hatred, envy, and malice, towards them ? 
 Have you ever taken vengeance into your own 
 hands, and not left it to God? Lastly, have you ne- 
 ver violated any of the pure laws of temperance, 
 sobriety, and chastity ; neither polluting yourself 
 by sensual vices, nor ruining others by the act or 
 by the example, from your youth up, until now ?" 
 Thus I ran through, as rapidly as possible, the 
 
 \ 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 199 
 
 whole summary of the moral duties ; not suffering 
 him to interrupt me, which he attempted again 
 and again, Avhere he felt his conscience clear as fo 
 any particular charge ; but intending to over- 
 whelm his self-sufficiency, by the very multipli- 
 city and variety of the subjects for self-examina- 
 tion, which I poured out upon him altogether, in a 
 mass. And then, I summed up the matter in a 
 few words, saying, " Is there now a single man in 
 the world so little acquainted with himself, as to 
 think, that when he stands face to face, before the 
 great Judge, he might venture to plead, that he is 
 guiltless in all these respects ; that he has perfectly 
 corresponded to the designs of Providence in 
 making him; and that he is entitled to the 
 infinite rewards of a future state ? On the con- 
 trary, would not the very best of men, who are 
 always the most humble, cry out, ' we are sin- 
 ners ; we will shut our mouths before God, or 
 only ask for pardon?' " 
 
 I was myself visibly affected by my own argu- 
 ments, and by the earnestness with which I had 
 spoken ; but the sick man was little moved, out- 
 wardly, at least; and at all events, he showed no 
 disposition to concede any thing, but a determina- 
 tion to resist to the last extremity. For he said, 
 *' If I am deficient in any thing, I owe it to my na- 
 ture. God is the author of every man's nature — 
 
200 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 God implanted in us all our appetites and pas? 
 sions; and, therefore, if we follow the bent of 
 them, he has no reason to be angry, and conse- 
 quently will not punish us." 
 
 " You put yourself," I replied, " upon the 
 same level with the brute beast, and forget that 
 you have a rational part of your nature which the 
 brute beast has not, and which raises you above 
 him. And reason is so manifestly superior to 
 every other part of your nature, that you may see 
 at once, that it is not only fit, but intended by Pro- 
 vidence, to govern the rest ; that no injury may 
 arise to the man himself, or to the community ; 
 and that the Creator may be glorified by the pro- 
 per use of that pre-eminence which he has be- 
 stowed. If, therefore, we follow the bent of our 
 appetites and passions, and suflfer them to domi- 
 neer over our reason, instead of being regulated by 
 it, we have not done our duty; we have not acted 
 correspondently to the capacities of our whole na- 
 ture; we have dishonored our Maker; we de- 
 serve his wrath, and must expect to be punished. — 
 Is not this so ?" 
 
 " Suppose it were," he answered ; "may we not 
 be sorry for what has been done amiss ; and cor- 
 rect our errors, if there be any; and amend our 
 lives, if they require amendment ; and will not 
 this satisfy God, and avert his anger ? Your own 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 201 
 
 gospel allows the efficacy of repentance, and re- 
 commends it." 
 
 " It does indeed," I said; " but only upon one 
 condition ; which condition implies, that you em- 
 brace the gospel as true, and believe and trust in 
 it. Do this, and then repentance will be accepta- 
 ble to God, through Jesus Christ." 
 
 " I cannot do it," was his answer. " Nature 
 teaches repentance ; and that is sufficient. I hold 
 by nature." 
 
 " A bad support, it is to be feared," I said, 
 *' for any of us in our present circumstances. 
 For what is to become of all the past 1 Will sor- 
 row for it undo it ? Will even the most complete 
 change and reformation of life for the future, undo 
 the past ? And, if you are in the right way now, 
 it is no more than what you ought to have been 
 always ; and cannot, therefore, excuse you for the 
 time in which you went wrong. The God of na- 
 ture requires a perfect obedience to his laws, in 
 every period of your existence. You cannot make 
 a bargain with him to be vicious in one period, 
 and virtuous in another. It is plain, therefore, 
 that even a sincere repentance can supply no solid 
 ground of peace and security, without God's 
 authority to that effect; and such an authority 
 cannot be had without a revelation from heaven. 
 And whose repentance was ever so sincere and 
 
20^ THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 complete, as not to need a second repentance ? In 
 fact, is not the whole life of the generality of man- 
 kind, an alternation of sin and repentance, repent- 
 ance and sin ; until death overtakes them at last ?" 
 He could not deny it ; but still he persisted in 
 saying, that, there were so many objections 
 against Christianity, that he could not admit it, 
 even with any advantage which it might offer 
 to him. Upon this, I rose up, and took my 
 departure ; not being able to spare more time for 
 conversation at present ; but I besought him, as 
 he valued eternity, to examine himself well, and 
 not allow himself to be deceived in his dying 
 hours. It was clear, that, whilst he could not 
 pretend but that his opinions were shaken, and 
 that he was absolutely beaten out of some of the 
 common holds of infidelity, it had wrought no 
 joy, but sorrow in his heart. 
 
 At my next visit I found him sitting on the 
 bed-side. He was alarmingly worse ; the other 
 parts of his dress were the same as before ; but he 
 was without a coat ; the disease had made such 
 inroads upon every part of his body, that it did 
 not seem possible for him to bear up against it 
 much longer. His eyes were still more inflamed, 
 yet gkssy and dim. To my first questions about 
 his present state of disease, he gave in answer, a 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 203 
 
 most piteous account of himself; no appetite, no 
 rest, no power of breathing. All idea of the 
 more distant hospital was quite abandoned. To 
 convey him there alive appeared to be absolutely- 
 impossible ; yet he flattered himself, that he might 
 rally sufficiently to go to the nearer hospital 
 where he had been before. He was evidently 
 more then ever afraid to die, whilst the last thread 
 was about to snap asunder, and to plunge him into 
 eternity. 
 
 Anxious for his eternal welfare, I now said, 
 " It is my painful duty to tell you, Sir, that your 
 life is in imminent danger — God only knows how 
 short the remnant of it may be ! Your disorder 
 is most certainly advancing with rapid strides, and 
 your doctors declare that nothing can be done for 
 your relief by the power of medicine. In some 
 cases it would not be so painful to me to behold 
 the approach of death ; but in your case it is 
 beyond measure painful, because I perceive that 
 you have cast away the only staff upon which you 
 might have supported yourself with firmness, 
 against all its terrors. But is it indeed true. Sir, 
 that you have cast away this staff? Was not our 
 last conversation sufficient, imperfect as it was, to 
 show you that there was nothing secure but in 
 Revelation ? To take up the matter as we begun; 
 is it not undeniable, that we are all so defective, as 
 
204 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 to Stand in need of a Savior ? And if we are hum- 
 ble enough to feel this, can any doctrine be so 
 worthy of acceptation, so consolatory, so cheering, 
 as that which teaches us that there is such a Sa- 
 vior, and that he is the Son of God himself?" 
 
 It chilled me with horror to behold the sick 
 man, as I said this, preparing himself to utter his 
 cavils against the glad tidings of mercy ; for his 
 countenance betrayed the intentions of his heart. 
 His head gray with age; his body sinking under 
 the force of a deadly disease; his feet on the very 
 verge of the grave ; — he commended not his spirit 
 into the hands of that mighty Being who gave, 
 it ; he prayed not that it might be presented to 
 Him, purified by the blood of the Lamb ; he paused 
 only to rally his failing breath, that he might ex- 
 pend even the last particle of it, as it should seem, 
 in depreciating, in overturning the gospel, with 
 almost malicious vehemence. But since God 
 could bear with him, I ought- not to be impatient ; 
 I suppressed my rising indignation ; and combi- 
 ning his broken and disjointed sentences, I pro- 
 ceeded, as calmly as I could, and as far as seemed 
 necessary, to refute them. 
 
 But first, I said, " I perceive. Sir, and I do it 
 with deep unaffected sorrow, what wretched books 
 have been your study; you have been learning, 
 only, in the ignorant and impious school of Paine 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 205 
 
 and CarJile; you have drank down their poison, 
 without trying or searching for the antidote.— 
 God forgive both them and you ! One indeed is 
 gone to his everlasting account; his destiny is 
 fixed j and I pray not for him. — The other, in 
 prison, atones for the offended laws of his country 
 and his God ; I pray for him, and I pray for you; 
 that it may please infinite Goodness to prolong 
 your existence, and to mitigate your sufferings, 
 that you may have both time and power to make 
 your peace with God, through Christ, before vou 
 die." ^ 
 
 I was naturally raised above the tone of con- 
 versation; and I was willing to think that he was 
 somewhat awe-struck by the solemnity and the 
 devotion of my appeal to Heaven for him. How- 
 ever, I continued : " Let us look at some of your 
 objections, candidly. One of them is, that, the 
 gospel cannot be from God, because it is so 
 recent, and not universal. If it be of such vast 
 importance to mankind, why was not it revealed 
 sooner, and v^hynot to all?— All have alike souls 
 to be saved, and, therefore, all are alike con- 
 cerned.— Is this the force of your objection?" 
 
 He assented. 
 
 " Now tell me, then," I said, " whether Go. 
 be the creator of the world ?" 
 
 " I allow it," was his answer. 
 18 
 
206 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " Did he create it in some definite period of 
 time, or from all eternity ?" I asked. 
 
 He confessed, from what he had seen of men, 
 and of the world itself, in his various and exten- 
 sive travels, that it could not be eternal. 
 
 "Suppose then," I said, "a person should ob- 
 ject that the world was not created by God, be- 
 cause it was of comparatively so late origin ; you 
 see there would be no truth in the objection. 
 And although God intended, in creating a new 
 world, to communicate happiness to his creatures, 
 might he not have had wise reasons for creating 
 it no earlier, whether we can discover those rea- 
 sons or not ? Must he not indeed, as he is infi- 
 nitely wise, have had the wisest reasons for doing 
 what he did, at the time he did it ?" 
 
 The sick man could not deny it. 
 
 " Apply then," I said, " the same reasoning to 
 the case of the Christian revelation ; and why 
 should we draw a different conclusion ? In fact, it 
 is not analogous to the rest of the dealings of 
 Providence, to communicate any particular gift, al- 
 though, it may have an evident tendency to increase 
 the happiness of mankind, so early as we might 
 think most suitable to the divine goodness ; but in 
 he case of Christianity, men were actually not 
 prepared for the reception of it in any earlier 
 )eriod. It could not have been understood at the 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 207 
 
 time ; it could not have been proved to after ages. 
 God, however, has graciously made the benefits 
 of it applicable to all ages, as well antecedent as 
 subsequent to the delivery of it. In the plans of 
 infinite wisdom and goodness, the Lamb was slain 
 from the foundations of the world ; and the atone- 
 ment for sin, which was made by his blood, has 
 extended to every man, who acted according to 
 his natural light, and trusted in God. Meanwhile, 
 preparation was made for the actual introduction 
 of the gospel ; by setting apart the Jews for the 
 worship of the one true God ; by committing to 
 their care and study, numerous promises and pro- 
 phecies relating to that gospel ; and by disposing 
 and ordering the affairs of other nations in such a 
 manner as to make them facilitate and concur in 
 the establishment of it. In short, Sir, it would 
 require a volume fully to explain this matter, and 
 to give the glory which is due to its great Au- 
 thor ; but this simple outline is quite enough to 
 open any man's eyes to view the subject in its 
 proper light, and to induce him to confess, that a 
 mere general objection against the gospel, on the 
 ground of the lateness of the promulgation of it, 
 is both weak and untenable." 
 
 He, indeed, was not so candid as to make this 
 confession; but by his silence he admitted that 
 he had nothing to say to the contrary; and I 
 
208 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 therefore went on. '* The gospel, you object, has 
 not been preached to all mankind — But could it 
 have been preached to all mankind at once ?" He 
 allowed, that it required time and opportunity to 
 do it, if it were to be done by men. " God," I 
 said, " certainly seems to have left it to be done 
 by the instrumentality of men. If men, therefore, 
 are negligent, or lukewarm about it, he will 
 charge it to their account. However, it is mani- 
 fest, that Christianity has a tendency to increase, 
 which is not the case with any other religion. In 
 your various travels, have you ever visited any 
 country, however remote or uncivilized, in which 
 there were not Missionaries established to intro- 
 duce the gospel ?" He confessed that he had not, 
 so far as his inquiries extended. " The gospel, 
 therefore," I thus went on, " is not stationary, and 
 men are trying to spread it; whether rapidly 
 or slowly, it matters not for the argument. I be- 
 lieve from the prophecies, that hereafter it will be 
 offered and made known to the whole world ; and 
 if some thousands of years were to elapse before 
 that event took place, such a period, however 
 large in our estimation, might be nothing in com- 
 parison with the duration of time. A thousand 
 years in the sight of God are but as one day. In 
 the meanwhile, all the nations to which the gos- 
 pel is not preached, are in no worse situation, than 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 209 
 
 all the world before the first preaching of it. Has 
 your objection then any weight in it whatever ?" 
 
 By this time, I had discovered, that I was 
 never to expect from the sick man an ingenuous 
 confession that he was in the wrong. His man- 
 ner was, when he had nothing more at hand upon 
 any point under discussion, immediately to pass 
 on to another ; and I had nothing to do but to fol- 
 low him. Yet I hoped that a considerable effect 
 must ultimately and almost imperceptibly be pro- 
 duced upon his mind, when he observed, which 
 he could not fail to do, that all his arguments were 
 capable of a ready answer ; that, consequently, 
 there was not that weight in them, which he ori- 
 ginally supposed; and that in point of fact they 
 were all, when examined, found to be untenable, 
 and he himself had nothing to say in their defence. 
 
 He hastily reiterated his belief, that the New 
 Testament was written three hundred years after 
 the time when the events related are pretended to 
 have taken place ; and consequently that there 
 was no sufficient ground for trust in such a book. 
 
 I asked him why he conceived the New Tes- 
 tament to have been written so recently. 
 
 " Oh ! Sir," he replied at once, and positively, 
 " it is a well-known fact. — It has been affirmed 
 again and again, and I have not heard it once 
 contradicted." 
 
 18* 
 
210 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " That may easily be," I said, " if you read 
 only the books on one side of the question. And 
 now I see, by your case, that the Infidel writers 
 are not so unskillful, as I took them to be. I 
 could not imagine why they should venture, so 
 often as they do, to assert the most decided and 
 barefaced falsehoods ; but I now see, that they are 
 right in presuming, that many of their readers 
 will give them implicit credit, and not trouble 
 themselves to inquire whether their assertions are 
 true or false. I am sorry to perceive, Sir, that 
 you have acted in this manner. But tell me, 
 have you not as good reason to believe me, as to 
 believe Paine or Carlile, or any other men of 
 their character. They have an interest, or think 
 they have, in deceiving mankind. Have I any 
 interest in deceiving you, whom I look upon as a 
 dying man?" 
 
 " I do not see that you have," he answered. 
 
 '• Well, then, I assert the contrary," I said ; 
 " I assert that the gospel was written very soon 
 after the events recorded in it. Will you believe 
 me or them ?" 
 
 "As you tell me," he replied, "that I have 
 been wrong hitherto in believing, without exami- 
 nation, persons whom, however, I thought credi- 
 ble, I should like to hear what reasons you have 
 for your assertion." 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 211 
 
 " By all means," I rejoined, " you shall have 
 my reasons ; but still you must give me credit 
 for the truth of much of what I shall advance ; 
 unless God should spare your life, and enable you 
 to search for yourself, and thus to verify my facts. 
 Indeed, to do it thoroughly, you should be ac- 
 quainted with the Greek language, in which the 
 New Testament was originally written ; and you 
 should devote no little labor to the perusal and 
 study of large and voluminous works in that and 
 other languages. But if you are content to put so 
 much trust in me, as one man does in another, in 
 the common transactions of the world, where 
 there can be no probable cause for deceit, I could 
 mention enough to set your mind at ease upon 
 this question in a few minutes." 
 
 "Well, well. Sir," he said; "be as short as 
 you please ; and I will give you credit for honesty." 
 
 "What more then could you expect," I inquir- 
 ed, " to prove that any book was written at any 
 particular time, than that other authors, writing 
 upon subjects connected with it, at subsequent pe- 
 riods, beginning from that very time, had mention- 
 ed the book, or extracted passages from it?" 
 
 " To be sure," he confessed, "if that were the 
 case with respect to the New Testament, it would 
 go a great way towards ascertaining the age of it." 
 
 " That is precisely the case," I said. " There 
 
212 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 exists a series of writers, from the age immediate- 
 ly following that of the appearance of Jesus Christ, 
 and the preaching of his Apostles, down to the 
 time when you assert that the New Testament 
 first appeared ; which writers clearly refer to the 
 New Testament, as a book then in being, or to 
 some one or other of the gospels or epistles, 
 which constitute that book ; and they quote more 
 m less from it, as it suited their purpose ; so that 
 no doubt can reasonably remain about its identity. 
 A learned man has taken the pains to go through 
 all those writers ; to point out the particular age 
 of each ; and actually to produce the very quo- 
 tations themselves which they made from the 
 Scriptures. I could tell you his name, and their 
 names, if it were of any use to do it. If the&e 
 things be so then, can any person require more 
 evidence?" 
 
 Without yielding, my antagonist immediately 
 put the question rather triumphantly, " But have 
 any Heathen writers spoken of this book? I 
 should wish to know that The testimony of 
 enemies would be more convincing than the testi- 
 mony of friends." 
 
 " Yes," I replied eagerly. " But would ene- 
 fnies continue to be enemies, if they were well ac- 
 quainted with the origin and history of the gos- 
 pel ? Would they not immediately become friends, 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 213 
 
 and then give their testimony as friends ? This 
 was in fact the case with many. They were edu- 
 cated in Paganism, and prejudiced against Chris- 
 tianity; but having been induced by its extraordi- 
 nary effects to inquire into its evidences, and to 
 study the sacred writings, they were convinced ; 
 they were converted ; they wrote in its defence ; 
 they sacrificed their lives in its cause. There 
 were, however, some writers, not Christians, who 
 do not indeed mention the New Testament, which 
 was either impossible, on account of their age, 
 or not to be expected on account of their opinions, 
 but who record important circumstances relating 
 to Christianity which are striking evidences of its 
 truth. And it might be also, sometimes, that the 
 silence of a particular author would be a better 
 proof than almost any thing he could have said ; 
 but it would take up too much time to set this 
 matter in a full, clear light. The writers, how- 
 ever, to whom 1 allude, are eminent; Suetonius, 
 Tacitus, Juvenal, Pliny, and Josephus. In short, 
 it is not to be doubted but that the New Tes- 
 tament was written as soon as might be expected 
 after the events which it records, some parts ear- 
 lier, some parts later, as the several writers 
 thought it expedient ; and it is manifest, by a thou- 
 sand circumstances, that these writers, who were 
 perfectly acquainted with the main facts of the 
 
214 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 case, could neither have been deceived themselves, 
 nor have had any wish to deceive others. But if 
 their accounts be true, Christianity is true. The 
 question is settled at once." 
 
 I paused ; he answered after a little thought, 
 "Yes, yes, I grant it, if the accounts be true, 
 whenever written ; but who can bring himself to 
 believe such accounts? Miracles, for instance; 
 and such miracles ! Can any mortal, not entirely 
 bereft of reason, believe the miracle of the devils 
 and the swine?" 
 
 " We will see," I said. " But you object to 
 all miracles ?" 
 
 " 1 do," was his reply. 
 
 " Why?" I inquired. " Does God, the Al- 
 mighty, want power to perform a miracle ?" 
 
 " No ; I will not assert that ;" he answered. 
 *' But, as I observe all things proceeding, now-a- 
 days, in their regular course, according to natural 
 causes, I feel convinced that it has been always 
 so ; and that God never altered that course, and 
 will never alter it, for the sake of performing a 
 miracle." 
 
 *' But suppose," I said, " that God should wish 
 to send a message to mankind ; how would the 
 Messenger be known to come from him, and with 
 his authority? When Kings or States send Am- 
 bassadors to each other, the Ambassadors verify 
 
TKW SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 215 
 
 their commission by undeniable instruments or 
 documents, sealed with the arms of those Kings or 
 States ; and these they call their credentials. Now 
 what credentials must God give to his Ambassa- 
 dors to obtain reception for them, and to awaken 
 due attention to his message? What so simple, 
 what so convincing, as a portion of his own pow- 
 er, exceeding the power of man? The creden- 
 tials indeed must be something miraculous. No- 
 thing conformable to the established laws of na- 
 ture could possibly attest the extraordinary pre- 
 sence of God. If the messenger came surrounded 
 with the utmost worldly pomp and grandeur; if 
 he spake as never man spake, with the most per- 
 suasive and commanding eloquence ; if he lived 
 such a life as to exemplify all the noblest and most 
 difficult moral virtues ; it would not prove incon- 
 testably that God was with him. No ! Divine 
 power is the only direct and irrefragable evidence 
 of a divine message ; so that in this case you see 
 miracles are agreeable to reason, and by no means 
 contrary to it." 
 
 He was silent ; and I was fearful, lest, to evade 
 my argument, he should have denied the possibil- 
 ity or probability of any revelation whatever; 
 which would have led to an interminable discus- 
 sion ; but he pursued a different course, and after 
 a while, collecting himself to speak, he said, " Dr. 
 
216 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 Warton, 1 have been in many parts of the world ; 
 and, it is true, wherever I was, I saw that some 
 religion or other had got hold of the affections of 
 the people. But, in general, these religions were 
 so absurd and foolish, that their falsehood appear- 
 ed at once. Yet there were none of them which 
 did not pretend to have their miracles. But these 
 miracles were certainly all impostures ; and there- 
 fore I fell into the conclusion that no miracles were 
 true ; which is the safest conclusion to abide by, 
 after all." 
 
 " Your conclusion was a very hasty one," I re- 
 plied, " and it seems to me that it was contrary to 
 all just reasoning, and far from being safe. You 
 should rather have argued, that, as religion was 
 natural to mankind — (for you saw it every where;) 
 and as mankind were equally disposed to believe 
 in miracles — (for you met with no religion which 
 did not boast of its miracles;) so the probability 
 would be, that some religion might be true, and 
 some miracles attesting that religion true also. 
 From whence you should have gone on to try the 
 Christian religion and its miracles more especially, 
 as being received in your own country, and in- 
 volving questions of inconceivable moment, by the 
 proper test for the ascertainment of their truth or 
 falsehood. Miracles, it is plain, are agreeable to 
 the common sense of mankind; and you have al- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 217 
 
 lowed already that they are not impossible ; it fol- 
 lows therefore that you ought to examine what tes- 
 timony there is in their favor, when so great an 
 interest is at stake, and when they are brought 
 forward to prove the truth of a religion which sets 
 life or death before you." 
 
 He had nothing to say to all this ; and I did 
 not think it wise to press him with questions, to 
 his own confusion ; so I went on thus. " The 
 miracles indeed of Pagan nations, and the modern 
 miracles of the Papists, are for the most part con- 
 futed by their own inherent absurdities, or by 
 the want of a sufficient cause for the interference 
 of the Almighty; but the Christian miracles, 
 wrought for the purpose of introducing Christian- 
 ity, and proving it to be from God, had the wor- 
 thiest cause, and were generally in their own na- 
 ture noble instances of goodness and mercy as 
 well as of power. What think you of healing the 
 sick, of feeding the hungry, of making the lame 
 to walk, the deaf to hear, the dumb to speak, the 
 blind to see, the dead to rise ? And all this by a 
 word, or a touch ? Have you not here two stamps 
 of divinity impressed upon those miracles, power 
 and goodness?" 
 
 He could not deny it, but he interposed, that 
 this was not the character of them all. " Perhaps 
 not," I said ; " but it is the character of so large a 
 19 
 
218 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 portion of them, as naturally to dispose us in favor 
 of the rest. And what are the rest ? the blasting of 
 the fig-tree, the finding of the tribute-money in the 
 fish's mouth, the walking upon the sea, the sub- 
 duing of the storm, when the sovereign Author of 
 nature, with that voice which all nature hears and 
 obeys, said to the winds and waves, ' Peace ! be 
 still ! and immediately there was a great calm V 
 Is there anything absurd in these miracles to dis- 
 credit them at once ? Were they a mere ostenta- 
 tion of power ? Or were they not performed most 
 aptly and seasonably, and all but one so as to 
 strike the disciples with additional awe of their 
 Master, and thereby to increase their faith in 
 him?" 
 
 " Yes ! Sir," he replied ; *• it may be so with 
 respect to those which you have selected ; but you 
 say nothing of the miracle of the devils and 
 the swine, to which I objected from the first; 
 and which you cannot explain, and therefore 
 appear to me to evade. — Look to that. Sir !" 
 he continued somewhat triumphantly. " That 
 is the point upon which I wait for informa- 
 tion." 
 
 *'Well, I will give you what information I 
 can upon that too," I answered. " Only I would 
 have you take notice, that if I were unable to ex- 
 plain that miracle so fully and clearly as I have 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 219 
 
 explained the others, it would not injure my argu- 
 ment. Is it reasonable, that a single difficulty, 
 or many difficulties, should destroy at once the 
 effect of every thing else, which is so perfectly 
 plain and simple?" 
 
 He would not say that it was; but he was 
 sure, that where there were difficulties, there 
 would always be doubts ; and as to possession by 
 devils, he thought the whole story incredible. 
 
 " Do you believe," I asked, " that there are 
 such beings as evil spirits ?" 
 
 " I am rather inclined to think that there are 
 not," was his answer. 
 
 " Are you aware," I asked again, " that all 
 nations, in all times, as far as we can know, have 
 believed in the existence of supernatural beings 
 both good and bad ?" 
 
 " I am aware of it," he replied, " and, indeed, 
 I myself observed in my travels, that the religion 
 of some nations was chiefly the result of their 
 fear of bad spirits." 
 
 " The belief then of the existence of beings of 
 superior power to men, and inclined to be mis- 
 chievous to men, being universal, is natural to the 
 human mind; is it not?" I inquired. 
 
 He granted that it was. 
 
 " Well, then," I continued, " that is a presump- 
 tion, al least, that there really are such beings j 
 
220 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 and I, who believe the fact to be so, believe 
 also, that one way, in which the idea became so 
 prevalent, as to appear natural, is by tradition from 
 the first ages of the world ; and I am sure, that the 
 account given of those beings in the Scriptures, 
 is a most consistent account, and the only rational 
 one to be found any where ; namely, that they 
 were made originally by the great Creator of the 
 same rank with the angels themselves, and gifted 
 with the same excellent endowments, and put into 
 possession of the same bliss and glory; that, being 
 free to stand or fall, they fell by voluntary trans- 
 gression, from this, their first estate ; that, since 
 their fall, they have been permitted by Provi- 
 dence to tempt mankind to sin, for the trial and 
 illustration of human faith and virtue. 
 
 " But to come to the miracle. I believe, that, 
 in the first age of the gospel, these devils were 
 permitted to torment the bodies, as well as to 
 tempt the passions and appetites of men ; one pur- 
 pose of which was, to show, what perhaps could 
 not have been shown otherwise, that Jesus Christ, 
 who cast them out, had a power superior to their's ; 
 and thus to raise the faith of the true Christian, to 
 a full and perfect confidence, that the kingdom of 
 darkness would finally be overthrown by the same 
 power, and the kingdom of righteousness esta- 
 blished on its ruins for ever. However, there 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 221 
 
 might have been then, as there are now, persons 
 who thought that the sick people, afflicted by the 
 devil, as we say, upon Scripture authority, were 
 not really so ; but that they labored under imagi- 
 nary disorders of the mind, which they themselves, 
 in the paroxysms of their madness, interpreted 
 in that manner. Now, I ask you, is it possible, 
 do you think, for irrational animals to be trou- 
 bled with diseases of the imagination?" 
 
 He allowed, that it was not possible. 
 
 " It would perhaps, then," I continued, " be 
 no bad method of showing that these afflictions, 
 which we call possessions by devils, were not 
 disorders of the imagination, if it were seen 
 that irrational animals were also affected by 
 them." 
 
 He was aware of the drift of my reasoning, 
 and therefore, as he could not controvert it, after his 
 former concession, he remained silent, and left me 
 to draw the conclusion, that, besides other reasons 
 for sending the devils into the swine, this might 
 have been one, that it proved the exercise of a 
 real power by those beings which was subject to 
 the power of Christ. This visible conquest over 
 Satan, was, in fact, the beginning to bruise the 
 serpent's head, and an earnest of his future com- 
 plete destruction, according to the earliest pro- 
 phecy delivered in Paradise, for the consolation 
 19* 
 
222 THE SPIUIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 of our first parents, and the confirming of the 
 /aith of their whole posterity. 
 
 Here I thought it advisable to close the con- 
 versation for the present. It was wonderful in- 
 deed, that the sick man could have supported his 
 part in it so long. In body, however, he was cer- 
 tainly not worse than when we began ; in mind 
 there was a sensible alteration for the better; and I 
 tacitly besought God, that he would give me the 
 time, and also enable me to enlighten and con- 
 vince him still further, that he might die in the true 
 and steadfast faith of Christ, I refrained from ask- 
 ing him how far I had already succeeded. He was 
 not yet ripe for confessions. He would, perhaps, 
 have denied that any change had taken place in 
 his opinions; but upon the whole it was suffi- 
 ciently apparent, and I contented myself with 
 remarking it in his silence. I now took my 
 leave, with a promise that I would be with him on 
 the following day, which he seemed to receive 
 with pleasure, and which he acknowledged 
 with thanks. 
 
 I visited him, according to my engagement, 
 and was surprised to find a man, whom the day 
 before I supposed to be dying, now seated in his 
 chair, as at the first, and breathing with much 
 more freedom. In fact, his disease had taken a 
 favorable turn, and in consequence, he had ob- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 223 
 
 tained some comfortable rest in the night, and 
 was now enjoying this temporary ease. But 
 there was no reason to think that it could be more 
 than temporary ; and therefore, in congratulating 
 him upon the pause of his disorder, I still kept in 
 view the certainty that it must terminate fatally. 
 
 " God," I said, " has been gracious to you, 
 and has spared you another day for the momen- 
 tous work in which you are employed. Whilst 
 the day lasts, let us be diligent in the use of it ; 
 for the night cometh when no man can work. 
 Yesterday, when I entered your chamber, your 
 life seemed to hang upon a single thread, and I 
 expected to see it snap asunder. The same dan- 
 ger may return, you know not how soon ; God 
 grant that you may be well prepared to meet it ! 
 Shall I kneel down, therefore, and thank God for 
 his present mercy, and beg his future help, in the 
 name of his Son, Jesus Christ, whom he has ap- 
 pointed to be the only Mediator between men and 
 himself?" 
 
 This proposition I made to try him, and that I 
 might not contend in the dark with respect to his 
 actual sentiments. For he showed no disposition 
 to give me any positive information about himself 
 expressly by words; I could only judge by deeds 
 and casual circumstances; nor had I seen his 
 wife this morning, so as to get any information 
 
224 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 from her on this interesting point. I was not a 
 little grieved, therefore, when, instead of accept- 
 ing my offer to pray for him, he replied careless- 
 ly, " that he could never digest the doctrine of a 
 Mediator between God and men ; and that Me- 
 diator the Son of God himself; and him too cru- 
 cified, dead, and buried. There is something," 
 he asserted, " so strange, so incredible, so contra- 
 dictory to reason, in the whole scheme and idea 
 of it, that even undoubted miracles could never 
 prove it," 
 
 Alas ! alas ! thought I ; how must we waste, 
 perhaps irrecoverably, and in fruitless disputation, 
 the precious hours that should have been spent in 
 earnest prayer for grace and pardon. However, 
 I could only follow where he led me; and at least 
 it was satisfactory to observe, that he spoke no 
 longer with the same sarcastic tone of voice, as 
 on the day before. The very objection which he 
 brought forward now, was then put in a form 
 which I should be shocked to record ; now it was 
 expressed with moderation. I did not, therefore, 
 permit myself to despair ; but, on the contrary, 
 pleased and encouraged myself with the hope that 
 another day might, by God's blessing, produce a 
 still more remarkable change. 
 
 I said, therefore, " Suppose you had a favor 
 to ask of the king's chief minister, upon whom 
 
THE SPIRIT OF IXFIDLLITY. 225 
 
 however, you had no claim whatever ; and sup- 
 pose also, that you had happened to be acquainted 
 with a person of inferior rank, but high in influ- 
 ence with that minister ; would you apply directly 
 to the great man, yourself, or through the person 
 who was the common friend of both?" 
 
 " I should apply," he answered, " through the 
 common friend." 
 
 " He would be your mediator then," said I, 
 " would he not ?" 
 
 " He certainly would," was his reply. 
 
 " And is not this," I continued, " the com- 
 mon practice of mankind, where they who have 
 favors to grant, are far above them, and out of 
 their reach, as it were, to endeavor to prevail 
 upon some other person or persons to mediate for 
 them ; that is, to go between the parties which are 
 at a distance, and to approximate them to each 
 other, and thus to accomplish the wished-for 
 object ?" 
 
 He allowed that it was. 
 
 " And more especially," I added, " if you had 
 offended the superior man by your conduct, and 
 had reason to think that he would punish you, in- 
 stead of favoring you ; would you venture to ap- 
 proach him under such circumstances, and boldly 
 ask him to do you some great kindness ?" 
 
 " I would not," he said. 
 
226 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 "But if a friend of your's," thus I went on, 
 "should voluntarily undertake to go to the great 
 man for you, and should bid you to have good 
 hope of success, in spite of the unpromising na- 
 ture of your case, because that he himself would 
 be your advocate and mediator, and that the great 
 man never refused him any thing; should you 
 not be overpowered with joy ? Should you not 
 accept so unexpected and advantageous an offer, 
 with the utmost gratitude ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly, I ought to do so." 
 
 "Well, then," I summed up my argument, 
 " this is pretty much the case between God _and 
 men. The parties are at an immense distance. 
 One lies under the displeasure of the other, and 
 yet looks up to that other for inestimable benefits. 
 Glad, therefore, ought we to be, supremely glad, 
 that there is another person at hand, willing to 
 undertake, and able to effect a reconciliation be- 
 tween them. This, then, is the Christian scheme ; 
 according, you see, with the common reason of 
 mankind." 
 
 My adversary was silent, as heretofore, when 
 the argument appeared to be against his positions ; 
 but his hostility was manifestly relaxed, and he no 
 longer seemed to think that he had lost any thing, 
 when his assertions were overturned. I therefore 
 proceeded. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 227 
 
 " Now, if this intermediate person were of 
 such a description, as to be a natural connecting 
 link between the parties, would he not be admira- 
 bly adapted to the office? If, for instance, he 
 were perfectly acquainted with all the circum- 
 stances of both, by his own experience too, would 
 not that be a vast advantage?" 
 
 He granted that it would. 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " could any one know 
 the two parties better than he, who has the nature 
 of both?" 
 
 " Probably not," 
 
 " Here again, then," I rejoined, " You have 
 the Christian scheme of a Mediator, who is both 
 God and man, consistent, as you perceive, with 
 the deductions of your best reason. 
 
 " The whole dispensation, expressed summa- 
 rily, is this : — God is of purer eyes than to behold 
 iniquity : he cannot tolerate in his presence the 
 slightest stain of sin ; he dwells in the dazzling 
 splendor of inaccessible light, and even the 
 blessed angels themselves, with their wings, 
 veil their faces before him. Man, debased by the 
 fall, and by his own transgressions, cannot ap- 
 proach him to ask for pardon and grace; the de- 
 sire of all nations, in all ages, has been to find a 
 Mediator. At length, in the fulness of the times, 
 the Mediator comes, who is the brightness of the 
 
228 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 Divine glory, and the express image of the Divine 
 person. But through the cloud of mortal frailty- 
 he shines with a milder radiance than his Hea- 
 venly Father. Incarnate by the Holy Ghost, and 
 under his constant influence, he is utterly devoid 
 of all sin ; yet his virtues, being human virtues, 
 however high and exalted, they create in us no 
 alarm or apprehension. We come boldly to him 
 for help in time of need. He pleads for us the 
 merits of that death, which, being a man, he was 
 enabled to undergo : a death, which was an all- 
 sufficient atonement for the sins of the whole 
 world, because it was the death of one, who, being 
 in the form of God, emptied himself of his native 
 glories, and exhibited himself in the fashion of a 
 man, and stooped to the ignominy of the Cross, 
 Well, then, we may think him mighty to save, and 
 accept with confidence, his gracious offers of re- 
 conciling us to our offended God ! Will you be 
 angry with him for his astonishing love towards 
 you ? Will you refuse to acknowledge his divine 
 nature, because he took the human ? Will you 
 not pray in his name, because he submitted to 
 shame, and death for you ?" 
 
 My zeal would have carried me on still fur- 
 ther ; but observing some favorable symptoms of 
 remorse in my patient's countenance and manner, 
 and also an inclination to speak, I stopped, and 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 229 
 
 he immediately said, — " You have drawn, Sir, it 
 must be granted, a very pleasing picture of the 
 chief features of the Christian religion. I see 
 many things in a different light from that in 
 which I have been too long accustomed to view 
 them. I am obliged to you for every kindness 
 which you have shown to me during my sickness; 
 but more especially, for the pains which you have 
 taken to correct my erroneous notions of Chris- 
 tianity." 
 
 I soon after left him, saying, as I rose to go 
 away, " may God send his Holy Spirit to enlight- 
 en your mind, and to purify your heart !" 
 
 As I pursued my walk, in the discharge of 
 other clerical duties, I reflected, with satisfaction, 
 upon the scene which had just passed. We had 
 not, indeed, yet arrived at any decided evidence 
 of a real change, but a foundation appeared to be 
 laid, which a few days ago seemed utterly hopeless. 
 
 The morrow came, and I hastened to visit him 
 again ; but unavoidable accidents kept me on the 
 road a few minutes beyond the hour. On enter- 
 ing the house, I saw at once the marks of some 
 great calamity. His wife hurried down stairs to 
 me ; consternation sat upon her countenance. I 
 inquired eagerly what was the matter ; and was 
 answered, that her husband was dying. 
 20 
 
230 THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " Oh ! Sir," she said, " he has been very impa- 
 tient for your arrival. He has asked again and 
 again if it were twelve o'clock. Again and again 
 he has expressed a great alarm lest you should 
 not be here before he died." 
 
 I rushed up stairs, much disturbed, and struck 
 with awe at the doings of the Almighty. Here 
 was a striking instance of the wretched weakness 
 of man, and of His irresistible power. The sick 
 man yesterday, so much better and stronger, with 
 the prospect of some weeks at least, before him j 
 and so far renewed in the spirit of his mind, as to 
 have appointed this day and this hour for the com- 
 mencement of religious exercises, was stretched 
 upon the bed of death, and now almost a lifeless 
 corpse. His eyes were closed; his face was 
 black and ghastly ; his throat rattled as the breath 
 forced a passage through it. I seized his hand, 
 and pressed it. He opened his eyes convulsive- 
 ly, and shut them instantly. He attempted to 
 speak, but no intelligible sounds escaped from his 
 lips. Nevertheless, bis mind was manifestly not 
 yet gone ; and I hoped that he still possessed the 
 sense of hearing. I knelt down, therefore, and 
 began in a loud and solemn tone that most beau- 
 tiful, affecting, and divine prayer, which is pre- 
 scribed for the sick at the point of their departure. 
 His lips moved, as if he were trying to accompa- 
 
THE SPIRIT OF INFIDELITY. 231 
 
 ny me. This sign of God's gracious goodness 
 towards him, in the midst of his dreadful agony, 
 for a moment overpowered me, and of necessity, 
 I stopped. He began to speak, and I put my 
 head close to catch his words. 
 
 He said, " it is very comfortable to me ;" and 
 that was all which I could distinctly understand. 
 It was evident that he did not finish the sentence 
 which he intended ; for he began over and over 
 again in the same words. When he had entirely 
 ceased, I resumed the prayer; his lips moved 
 again for a short time, and then became motion- 
 less altogether. I grasped his hand, and asked 
 him, if he died in the faith of Jesus Christ. He 
 gave me no sign. Unwilling to distress his last 
 moments, I withdrew ; ejaculating to Heaven a 
 petition for the salvation of his soul, and at length 
 relieved by tears. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE END OP INPIDEI-ITY. 
 
 As I was sitting at home one rainy day, and 
 earnestly engaged in the preparation of a sermon 
 for the following Sunday, expecting that the wea- 
 ther would have secured me from all chance of 
 being disturbed by visitors, the name of Mr. Sam- 
 brook was announced. He was a considerable 
 farmer, with whom I had long wished to have an 
 opportunity of conversing, and which I had totally 
 despaired of obtaining, unless it might please 
 Providence to inflict some lingering calamity up- 
 on him. I was well aware that the object of his 
 present visit was entirely secular; but I hoped to 
 extract something spiritual out of it, and therefore, 
 put by my papers with great satisfaction, and de- 
 sired that he might be brought into my study. 
 
 A short, fat, rosy man, beyond the middle 
 age, was introduced. His dress and manner were 
 rough, for a person having so much intercourse 
 with the neighboring town ; but there was a live- 
 liness and cheerfulness in his whole air and ges- 
 tures, which induced me at once, to think that I 
 might say what I chose to him, consistently with 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 233 
 
 my situation, without the danger of giving him 
 offence. And certainly it seemed necessary that 
 much should be said ; at church I never had seen 
 him ; he was accused of acts of uncommon profli- 
 gacy, and he was bringing up his family in an 
 absolute neglect of all religion. 
 
 He had long been endeavoring to evade the 
 payment of his parish dues, and now called upon 
 me, to see if some compromise could not be made, 
 by which he could still avoid the claims of the 
 law. After conversing with him for some time 
 upon this subject, I relinquished a large part of 
 the debt he owed me, and the rest he was to pay 
 by instalments. This business being settled, I 
 said, " I hope, Mr. Sambrook, that you and I shall 
 be good friends in future ; that you will fulfill 
 your present bargain punctually and honorably ; 
 and that by coming to church, you will give me 
 opportunities of promoting your highest good, — 
 the salvation of your soul." 
 
 Here I concluded, and he said nothing more 
 in reply, than that he was desirous of being on 
 friendly terms with me, and that he would do his 
 utmost to discharge his debt ; as to the rest, he 
 shook his head, and gave me no encouragement. 
 Thus we separated for this time. The payments 
 that were to be made would, I supposed, bring us 
 together again often; and I trusted that some- 
 20* 
 
234 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 thing more for his benefit might hereafter be 
 done. 
 
 The appointed day for the first payment having 
 arrived, and passed without notice, I could not 
 help suspecting that Mr. Sambrook had still some 
 intentions of deceiving me, and of escaping from 
 his own contract.* To pay away money on any 
 account, even where it was due, was contrary to 
 his nature and habits. His taxes and rates were 
 seldom obtained except after the first process of 
 the law, a summons by a magistrate, or a lawyer's 
 letter ; so that it would have been ridiculous for 
 me to expect better treatment. An opening, how- 
 ever, having now been made for an attempt to 
 bring him gradually to Christian principles, I de- 
 termined to proceed by the gentlest methods, and, 
 if possible, to give no cause for fresh irritation. I 
 walked therefore in the direction of his house, 
 and found him in one of his fields, near home, 
 looking at a most beautiful apple-tree, which was 
 in full bloom, and covered with blossoms of vari- 
 ous shades of color. 
 
 After the usual salutations, fortunately, he be- 
 gan himself with apologising for his want of 
 punctuality to his engagements, and having stated 
 
 * The reader will perceive from this dialogue, that it is 
 customary in England for the clergyman himself to collect 
 his dues from his parishioners. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 235 
 
 some reason or other for it, not very satisfactory, 
 I accepted it nevertheless at once ; and he then paid 
 me the sum that was first due ; being, as he affirm- 
 ed, about to bring it to me. At the same time he 
 expressed a hope, vi^hich was wonderful for such 
 a person, that others paid me better than he did. 
 
 " They do, certainly," I replied ; " but now 
 that we are better acquainted, you will perhaps 
 not yield to any of them. But what must we do 
 for a receipt?" 
 
 " Oh ! never mind ;" he said, " your word is 
 as good as a stamp." 
 
 " I hope it is." I answered; "but my memory 
 may fail me." 
 
 " I will trust to that too," he replied. 
 
 This amused me exceedingly; but I found 
 universally, that all who persisted in calling me 
 rogue and robber behind my back, never hesita- 
 ted for a moment to put the most entire confidence 
 in me, when we had any money transactions 
 together. 
 
 " Very w^ell," I said ; " I only wish that you 
 would trust me in things of much greater impor- 
 tance. Mr. Sambrook, you are getting into years ; 
 infirmities will come, and sickness, and death. 
 But it would be wise to reflect seriously upon 
 your condition, before you are forced to do so, 
 and when to do it will be more painful, and less 
 
236 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 easy. Indeed, when I look at your frame and 
 figure, I cannot help fearing, that you may be 
 carried out of this world by one of those sudden, 
 instantaneous, unexpected attacks, which are now 
 so common amongst us; and that it may not 
 please Providence to give you any warnings 
 by a gradual diminution of your health and 
 vigor. You appear to me. Sir, as far as I 
 have the power of judging, and I speak it with 
 unfeigned sorrow, you appear to be living with- 
 out the worship and even the knowledge of a God ; 
 and is not this, besides the danger of it, to degrade 
 yourself to a level with the animals below you, 
 brute and irrational, who feed, and sleep, and per- 
 form all their other offices, without being con- 
 scious of a Creator and Preserver?" 
 
 I watched him closely whilst I was speak- 
 ing, but I could not ascertain the current of his 
 thoughts. On the whole, I conjectured that 
 shame alone prevented him from avowing him- 
 self at once an Atheist. When I paused, he said, 
 " That he considered a sudden death as much 
 preferable to a lingering one, and hoped that his 
 own might be sudden." 
 
 " What !" I asked, " whether prepared or un- 
 prepared ?" 
 
 " I am so far prepared," was his answer, " as 
 to be certain that I must die ; and I do not find 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 237 
 
 things go on so smoothly and pleasantly here, as 
 to make me very desirous of a long life?" 
 
 "But what do you think of the next life?" I 
 asked again : " Things may go on less smoothly 
 and pleasantly there, unless we have made a 
 due preparation here by virtue and piety. You 
 have a soul, which will never die ; and which is 
 now in a state of trial ; God, who is a God of 
 justice, will judge it hereafter, when the trial is 
 finished ; and if he find it defiled with drunken- 
 ness and sensuality, or any other vice, he will as- 
 sign to it a terrible lot in eternity. Do you be- 
 lieve all this ?" 
 
 " No, Sir," he replied : " these things are too 
 deep for me. I was brought up from my youth 
 to a life of labor. I am no scholar ; but 1 have 
 talked with people who are ; and they say that 
 they believe none of these things. And it seems 
 reasonable that no man should be forced to believe 
 what he cannot understand. How do I know 
 that there is any God ? I cannot understand what 
 sort of Being he can be, nor where he can live, 
 nor how he can know what I am doing or think- 
 ing now. I say the same about souls, and another 
 world after this, and a last judgment, and everlast- 
 ing punishment : I cannot understand it ; and I 
 stick to this, that I cannot believe, and therefore 
 cannot act upon any thing which I no not under- 
 
238 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 Stand." In saying all this, he spoke with a tone 
 of vehemence and positiveness, which plainly im- 
 plied that he thought his position impregnable. 
 
 " What tree is this," I inquired, " which looks 
 so uncommonly beautiful?" 
 
 " Why, an apple-tree, to be sure," he answered. 
 
 " And does it generally bear fruit ?" I inquired 
 again. 
 
 " Yes," said he, *' abundance ; and of the very 
 best sorts too ; for you see the different flowers, and 
 may guess therefore that it bears different sorts." 
 
 " And what do you do with the apples, when 
 they are ripe ? You give them to the pigs, I sup- 
 pose, or throw them upon the dunghill." 
 
 " Are you mad. Sir !" he interrupted me eager- 
 ly, " They are fit for the king's table ! They 
 fetch the very highest price in the market ; and I 
 prize them exceedingly." 
 
 " How delighted I am," said I, " to have met 
 you near this remarkable tree ! For I have always 
 been extremely desirous of understanding some- 
 thing about the production of flowers and fruits ; 
 and as you are the wise man who never believe 
 or act upon any thing which you do not perfectly 
 comprehend, I hope you will not be so unkind as 
 to refuse to impart your knowledge to me." 
 
 He was not exactly aware of the drift of my 
 reasoning ; but he suspected by my manner that 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 239 
 
 I wished to banter him a little ; so he answered 
 cautiously, that he would gladly tell me whatever 
 he knew. 
 
 " Oh, do not deceive me," I said, "or cut short 
 my expectations ! Of course you know every 
 thing about it ; or you would not have done as 
 you have, first planting this tree itself; then graft- 
 ing upon it the various sorts ; pruning every year 
 the superfluous branches ; plucking off the super- 
 abundant fruit, for the improvement of the rest; 
 and, in short, pursuing all the rules of good hus- 
 bandry, which are generally crowned with suc- 
 cess." 
 
 He doubted where this would end, and was 
 silent; so I proceeded. 
 
 " There can be no doubt, I suppose that earth, 
 and water, and air, and heat, and light, work all the 
 wonders that we ever see in this apple-tree. Do 
 you know of any other element that is in any way 
 concerned in the growth of vegetables ?" 
 
 He thought there could not be any other. 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " and how do these ele- 
 ments make the tree grow ?" 
 
 " The sap rises in the spring," he answered, 
 " and spreads through the whole." 
 
 " But what is the sap ?" I asked. ** Is it any 
 thing else but the mixture of those several ele- 
 ments ?" 
 
240 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 He allowed that it could not be any thing 
 
 " Certainly," I said, " it cannot. Now there- 
 fore tell me how this sap makes wood, and bark, 
 and leaves, and flowers, and fruit. Had this tree 
 any leaves, or flowers, a month ago?" 
 
 " It had not," he said. 
 
 " What a nimble, and astonishing, and skilful 
 workman, then," I said, " must this sap be, to do 
 so much, and to produce such beautiful things in 
 so short a space ! and so unlike the sap itself too! 
 What pencil painted these flowers with such live- 
 ly, varying, delicate tints, and yet had only the 
 gross materials of earth and water to do it with ; 
 assisted, indeed, by the lighter ones of air, and 
 heat, and light ? And observe ; the sap rises, no 
 doubt, without variation in itself, to that point in 
 the stem from whence the diflferent branches set 
 out : what is it which changes the proportions of 
 its component parts afterwards ? For almost every 
 branch, you see, bears a diflJerent flower from any 
 other, and therefore the sap must run through it 
 in a different proportion, or with a different power. 
 Explain this to me." 
 
 "Oh! Sir," he answered, "it is Nature that 
 does it all — Nature is wonderful indeed!" 
 
 "But who, or what is Nature?" I asked. 
 " Is Nature any living being, or what else ?" 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 241 
 
 " Not a living being, certainly," he said; "but 
 what else I cannot tell." 
 
 " If Nature, then," I asked again, "be without 
 life and understanding, what can she do by her- 
 self? In point of fact, when we talk of Nature, 
 do we not always mean the rule, or law, or man- 
 ner, in and by which all things produce their ends 
 and objects ? As in the case of the sap ; the sap 
 rises by a certain rule, and varies the proportions 
 of its component parts by a certain rule, and dis- 
 poses itself over the branches of the tree by a cer- 
 tain rule ; and then we say this is the effect of 
 Nature." 
 
 " That is it, I dare say," was his answer ; and 
 he seemed glad to escape from the difficulty. 
 
 But I immediately rejoined, " If this be so, 
 then we must have somebody who made the rule ; 
 somebody who laid down the law ; somebody who 
 ordained the manner, according to which all mat- 
 ter acts. Rules and laws do not make themselves ; 
 do they?" 
 
 Here he began to be alarmed, lest he should 
 be forced to acknowledge the necessity of a God ; 
 so he said, " May not all these things take place 
 by chance ?" 
 
 " That seems impossible," I replied. " It is at 
 least incredible. Did you ever see these branches 
 bearing different fruits at different times?" 
 21 
 
242 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " No," he said. 
 
 "But always the same?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; " always the same." 
 
 *' Then chance," I continued, "is entirely out 
 of the question. Things which never vary must 
 proceed by some steady, constant rule, must they 
 not?" 
 
 He could not deny it. 
 
 " Who is it, then," I asked, " that made this 
 rule, which could not make itself?" 
 
 He w^as pressed very hard, hut could not bring 
 himself to confess that there must be a God. At 
 last, after having tried various v/ays, as it seemed, 
 in his own mind, to avoid this necessity, he ex- 
 claimed, with a sort of joy, " I have it? It must 
 be, that things have gone on in the same manner 
 always without any beginning at all. This ac- 
 counts for every thing at once in the shortest and 
 simplest way." 
 
 " It appears to me, on the contrary," I said, 
 " that this supposition of yours accounts for no- 
 thing, and increases all the difficulties. Suppose 
 a vast chain hanging from the sky, and reaching 
 within a few yards of the earth ; and I should ask 
 you, what supports the bottom link, and you 
 should tell me that it was supported by the link 
 above it, and that those two links were supported 
 by the third link, and so on ; and then I should 
 
T«E END OF INFIDELITY. 243 
 
 ask what supports the whole chain ? Should you 
 think it a sufficient answer to say that the chain 
 had no first link, and was endless ? Must not an 
 endless chain be a very long one, and consequent- 
 ly be a very heavy one, and require a much greater 
 power to support it ? If a chain of ten links re- 
 quires a certain force to hold it, must not a chain 
 of an infinite length require an infinite force ? 
 Because the chain is of an infinite length, you 
 will not surely say that it requires no force what- 
 ever to support it." 
 
 I twisted this into different forms, as he 
 was obstinately silent, and manifestly confounded, 
 though resolute not to yield ; and then I added, 
 that it was the same with every chain of causes 
 and effects. " Be the chain as long as it may, it 
 requires some first and mighty cause to set the 
 whole in motion. It is the same also with the 
 rule ; however long it may have been in action, 
 there must have been a maker of it ; and the wiser 
 the rule the wiser the maker. Indeed, in the 
 case of a rule, the matter is strikingly evident. 
 If this apple tree had understanding and speech, 
 it would tell us, no doubt, that its prime end and 
 object was to bear fruit, would it not?" 
 
 " It would certainly," he said. 
 
 " And are there not," I asked, " many contri- 
 
244 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 varices about the tree with a view to this particu- 
 lar purpose of bearing fruit ?" 
 
 He allowed it. 
 
 I gathered a blossom, and continued, " Look 
 at this blossom; do you see these fine threads, 
 which are called the stamens ?" 
 
 " I do," he answered. 
 
 " They are the male parts of the flower," I 
 said ; " and the fruit could not be produced with- 
 out them. See again these still finer threads, in 
 the very centre ; they are called the females, and 
 are absolutely essential. In the little heads of 
 the stamens, you observe, there is a thin powdery 
 dust ; some of it falls, when ripe, upon the sum- 
 mits of these female threads, and it is detained 
 there by a glutinous liquid ; afterwards it passes 
 down each thread, which is a tube, and having 
 arrived at the bottom, the embryo fruit is formed, 
 and begins to swell, and at last reaches the size 
 of the apple, which you commend so much. Is 
 not all this wonderful? Are there not plain 
 marks about it of contrivance and design ?" 
 
 He confessed that it seemed so. 
 
 " And who ever heard," I asked, " of contri- 
 vance and design, without a contriver and de- 
 signer ?" 
 
 He was compelled to grant that it was incon- 
 ceivable. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 245 
 
 " Is not a watch," I said, " a very beautiful 
 and skillful contrivance for showing the hour and 
 minute of day and night ?" 
 
 " It is indeed," he answered. 
 
 " And when you see it," I continued, " do you 
 not immediately infer a watchmaker ?" 
 
 " I do," he replied. 
 
 I asked again, " You would think it absurd, 
 would you not, to suppose that this exact order, 
 directed to such an object, sprung from chance? 
 And if any person should tell you, that this watch, 
 after all, was not really made by a watchmaker, 
 but by another watch adapted to the purpose, and 
 furnished with a most complicated machinery, 
 what would you think of it?" 
 
 " Why, I should think," said he, " that the 
 maker of the other watch was ten thousand times 
 more clever than I thought the maker of the sim- 
 ple watch." 
 
 " You would be perfectly in the right," I said. 
 " And the last thing, that would ever come into 
 your thoughts, would be, that a watch, which was 
 so artfully framed as to make another, had no 
 (Contriver and maker of itself?" 
 
 He allowed it would ; and then I inquired, if 
 he thought we could get rid of the necessity of a 
 contriver, designer, and maker, by supposing an 
 21* 
 
246 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 endless series of watches, each making the next 
 to it in the series. 
 
 "I might have thought so before," he replied; 
 " but after what has been said, I cannot think so 
 any longer." 
 
 " Nothing can be clearer, and more indisputa- 
 ble," said I. " Wherever there is an undoubted 
 contrivance, there is an undoubted contriver also, 
 be he at whatever distance he may from the pro- 
 ductions of the present moment. Now, I ask then, 
 whether man be not one of the most astonishing 
 contrivances of all ? And if so, whether you think 
 it reasonable that a watch should have a contriver, 
 and man not ?" 
 
 He was speechless, and trembled a little; 
 fearing, as it should seem, that there must be a 
 God, who at first created him, and might here- 
 after judge him. Seeing him thus affected, I con- 
 cluded the conversation ; hoping that I had plant- 
 ed a sting in his bosom, which would give him 
 continual pain, until he had searched the wound 
 to the bottom; and I added only, in a tone of 
 moderation, and without any appearance of a 
 triumph, " Act in religion, Mr. Sambrook, as you 
 do in other things. How many things are there 
 of which you know-nothing; and yet you believe 
 and act as if your knowledge was perfect 1 Why 
 not the same in religion, which is of infinitely 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 247 
 
 more importance than any thing else? And 
 now, that you have discovered a God, the wise 
 contriver and maker of all things, I leave you to 
 consider, whether he ought to be served and wor- 
 shiped, or not. Good morning ! I wish you 
 well, with all my heart." He bowed, and we 
 parted. 
 
 I DID not see Mr. Sambrook again so soon as 
 I expected. He made two more payments, but 
 not in person ; the money having been sent by a 
 child, without any demand for a receipt or memo- 
 randum. At length, before the next payment be- 
 came due, he visited me himself, in no slight tri- 
 bulation. My lawyer had delivered a bill of the 
 expenses, and had fixed a day for the discharge 
 of it ; this was not attended to, and the conse- 
 quence was, that a letter had arrived, thundering 
 out all the vengeance of the law. I promised at 
 once to arrange this matter for him ; and accord- 
 ingly I wrote immediately, in his presence, to de- 
 sire, at my own risk, that the payment of the costs 
 might be deferred till after the payment of the 
 instalments. 
 
 This, then, having been settled to his satisfac- 
 tion, I expressed my regret that two or three Sun- 
 days had passed since our last conversation, with- 
 out my seeing him at church. 
 
248 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " Why, Sir," he said, "to tell you the truth, I 
 think what you said to me was very clever, and I 
 could not contradict it at the time. But I have 
 considered since, that the matter is not quite so 
 clear as you tried to make it appear to be. You 
 told me that God contrived and made every thing ; 
 and you spoke also of his wisdom. Now, a wise 
 person, I should suppose, would never contrive or 
 make any thing useless, or mischievous ; and 
 you cannot deny that we are over-run with such 
 things, both of the animal and vegetable kinds — 
 What say you to this. Sir ?" 
 
 ^ You mean, perhaps," I replied, " such ani- 
 mals as destroy your corn and your fruit ; and 
 vegetables, like nettles, and docks, and brambles, 
 and briars, and other weeds, which cost you so 
 much pains to extirpate, and which, if neglected, 
 would exhaust upon their own growth all the 
 riches of the soil?" 
 
 " r do," he said. " And as you have your- 
 self mentioned nettles, I should be glad if you 
 would show me their use ; that I might have a 
 jeason for thinking that they had a wdse maker." 
 
 Mz. Bambrook was disposed to be jocose with 
 me, fancying that I could not attempt so ridicu- 
 lous a thing ^as to prove nettles to be useful. 
 However, i inquired if he would consider any 
 substance to be useful which contributed to the 
 
THE END or INFIDELITY. 249 
 
 support of men. He allowed that he should ; but 
 he was sure that nettles did not so contribute; 
 unless I pretended that nettle-broth was good for 
 an ague. Here he laughed, and seemed highly 
 diverted with the notion of nettles contributing to 
 the support of mankind. I was pleased to see 
 him in good humor, and calling one of my chil- 
 dren, I desired him to bring me the largest nettle 
 that he could find, in a few minutes, and to take 
 especial care not to prick himself with it. Mr. 
 Sambrook was still more amused, and joked with 
 the little boy about carrying the nettle, and advi- 
 sed him to put his gloves on. Meanwhile, I 
 asked whether men ate millstones. He began 
 to think me crazy. 
 
 " But," I said, " millstones may be useful, may 
 they not, although they are not eatable? So 
 that," I went on, " to prove a thing to be useful to 
 men, as contributing to their support, it is only 
 necessary to show that it is, in the order of causes, 
 like the millstone, near or remote." 
 
 He granted it. 
 
 " Now look at this nettle then," I said, which 
 the child had just brought into the room ; and 
 upon the leaves of which, on a slight examination, 
 I discovered several insects of the same species, 
 enjoying, as it appeared, a most delicious meal, 
 
 "Well," he cried, " [ did not know to a cer- 
 
250 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 tainty before that any creature loved nettles. But 
 what has this to do with our present talk ?" 
 
 " It is most closely concerned with it," I re* 
 plied. " These insects are the food of other ani- 
 mals, and those other animals are the food of man." 
 
 " Yes, Papa," said the little boy ; " I have 
 often seen the birds flying out of the nettles, but I 
 never knew before that they went there for their 
 food." 
 
 Mr. Sambrook was evidently staggered : but 
 his natural shrewdness did not forsake him ; and 
 he inquired immediately, whether it would not 
 have been more wise to have provided something 
 for these insects that was less mischievous to us. 
 
 " Then," said I, "you would wish, I suppose, 
 rather than not, that snails, and caterpillars, and 
 other noxious creatures, as they are called, fed 
 upon your lettuces, and cabbages, and richest 
 fruits?" 
 
 " Not that exactly neither," he replied. 
 
 " Would it not be best," I inquired, " if they fed 
 entirely upon weeds ?" 
 
 He allowed it. 
 
 " But these weeds must have ground to grow 
 upon; must they not ? And wherever they grow, 
 they become hurtful to other more valuable plants; 
 do they not?" 
 
 " They do," he replied. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY, 251 
 
 " Is industry better than idleness ?" I asked. 
 •' Certainly," he answered. 
 " Does not the clearing away of weeds abso- 
 lutely require industry?" I asked again. " And 
 is not idleness always punished by the growth of 
 weeds, and the consequent impoverishment of the 
 valuable crop?" 
 
 •' It is true, undoubtedly," was his answer. 
 " Then after all," I said, " these contemptible 
 and noxious vegetables, as we consider them, may 
 answer the purposes of a wise Being, who has a 
 vast variety of creatures to provide for, and who 
 may wish to make the virtue of industry necessary 
 to man. In fact, the whole truth of the matter is 
 to be found only in tiiis precious book, which lies 
 here upon my table, and out of which I will now 
 read to you the account of it." 
 
 "Dear me! Sir," he exclaimed: "I never 
 thought that I was come here to have the Bible 
 read to me !" 
 
 "What can the minister do better," I said, 
 " than to read God's book to his flock ; and what 
 can you do better than s-tudy it % In our last con- 
 versation you told me that it was impossible for 
 you to ascertain any thing about the nature of 
 God ; now I tell you that you may ascertain every 
 thing necessary to be known about him by the 
 study of this holy book. Listen therefore, at 
 
252 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 least whilst I read the explanation of this one 
 fact." 
 
 I then took the Bible into my hands, and 
 selected a few verses from the three first chapters 
 of Genesis ; particularly dwelling upon the cir- 
 cumstance, that when God rested from the great 
 work of creation, he saw every thing Avhich he 
 had made, and behold it was very good ; but that 
 after the transgression of Adam and Eve, the 
 ground was cursed for their sakes, and com- 
 manded to produce thorns and thistles ; that they 
 and all their descendants might eat bread in the 
 sweat of their brows, until they returned unto the 
 the dust, from which they were taken. Having 
 commented upon this great transaction in such a 
 manner as to make him catch at least some 
 glimpses of it, (for he was entirely uninformed 
 about it before,) I proceeded thus: — 
 
 " See now, Mr. Sambrook, the wonderful good- 
 ness of God, who even in judgment always re- 
 members mercy. He diminished indeed the origi- 
 nal happiness of man : but what a happy world is 
 this after all ! Many people have not sense 
 enough to see it, because it is indulged commonly 
 to all of us ; and too many who see it have not 
 gratitude enough to acknowledge it. Food and 
 drink, generally speaking, cannot be procured 
 without labor ; can they ?" 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 253 
 
 " Certainly not," he answered. 
 
 " And people must eat and drink, to live must 
 they not ?" I asked. 
 
 " They must," he said. 
 
 "So that if it had been a painful thing to 
 eat and drink, yet men would have gladly sub- 
 mitted to it; would they not?" I asked again. 
 
 He agreed with me that they undoubtedly 
 would. 
 
 " What do you think of it then yourself?" I 
 inquired. " Do you reckon it a painful thing to 
 eat and drink, which you would not undergo, but 
 for the sake of preserving life ?" 
 
 He candidly confessed that eating and drink- 
 ing, on the very contrary, were amongst the most 
 pleasant and delightful of all acts, and that proba- 
 bly millions of men were scarcely conscious of 
 any other pleasure. 
 
 '• But God," I said, " who made eating and 
 drinking necessary, might have superadded to it 
 either pain or pleasure, just as it suited his own 
 temper ; his having made it pleasant and delight- 
 ful, therefore, was a signal mark of pure, abund- 
 ant, and disinterested goodness." 
 
 Mr. Sambrook seemed to be let into a new 
 world. He made no scruple whatever to tell me, 
 that he never recollected once to have thought of 
 such things ; and I might perhaps have pursued 
 
254 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 the conversation in the same strain to his ad- 
 vantage ; but I was aware that he could not con- 
 veniently be spared from his business, and there- 
 fore I dismissed him with these words : 
 
 " This, Sir, is but one proof, out of an infinite 
 number of proofs, of God's goodness. The whole 
 day would be gone before we could speak of a 
 millionth part of them. His mercies are over all 
 his works. Think of this, and you will begin to 
 love him, and to desire to please him, and serve 
 him, and to be more satisfied with yourself And, 
 however you may be conscious to yourself, that 
 you fall below the perfection of his law, yet do 
 not fear. He, in the exercise of the same good- 
 ness, has provided a remedy for this, with which 
 you may become acquainted, by reading the New 
 Testament, and by frequenting your church. In 
 both those acts too, you may expect God's especial 
 blessing to light upon you." 
 
 He departed, without letting me into the pre- 
 sent state of his feelings. If the coming to church 
 was to be the test of any serious change, I feared 
 that he would find it a most difficult thing to do 
 so. Shame alone was too likely to deter him. 
 However, I trusted to time, the continuance of our 
 conversations, and the good providence of God. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 255 
 
 In the interval, between this and our next 
 meeting, an awful event occurred in Mr. Sam- 
 brook's family, which was calculated to pro- 
 mote my views, by leading naturally to serious 
 and solemn reflection. A sister, who had come 
 from a distance to visit him,, died suddenly 
 in his house. He attended the funeral, which 
 took place in my own church-yard ; and I myself 
 performed the ceremony. In this, and in the other 
 occasional services, I always take the utmost pains 
 to give them their due effect. Many persons are 
 present at marriages, and christenings, and fune- 
 rals, who never have come to church on any other 
 occasion ; and they are the only opportunities 
 which the minister has of making any impression 
 upon them whatever ; opportunities which he 
 would be unwise to neglect. If he can but touch 
 their hearts by the solemn devoutness of his tone, 
 and manner, in these services, they may be tempted 
 to come and see what he is in his greater function 
 of preaching. I know indeed, that this has fre- 
 quently happened; and I know also, on the other 
 hand, that much scandal has arisen where this 
 salutary, and but decent practice, has not been at- 
 tended to. People have gone away with the full 
 idea that the minister cared nothing about these 
 duties ; which was either a great shock to their 
 feelings, if they were religious persons, or con* 
 
256 THE END OF INFIDELITY* 
 
 firmed them in their irreligion, if they were the 
 contrary. In both cases great mischief has been 
 done. 
 
 On the present occasion, I acted only as I 
 always do ; and I found that it was noticed, to the 
 credit of our religion. The funeral was on a 
 Sunday, and the crowd was the more numerous. 
 In a few days after, I met Mr. Sambrook on a 
 private foot-path, and he immediately mentioned 
 the subject, and told me, that his late sister's hus- 
 band, now a widower, had derived much comfort 
 from the manner in which I had read the burial 
 service. "I believe, Mr. Sambrook," I said, "that 
 I always read it in the same manner ; but perhaps, 
 unconsciously on your account, I might have 
 given it somewhat of an additional awe and so- 
 lemnity. Your poor sister died suddenly; I have 
 told you that I thought it probable your OAvn end 
 might be the same. This was in my mind, whilst I 
 stood by the side of the grave, and saw you look- 
 ing into it ; and possibly it might have led me 
 imperceptibly, to speak with a more serious and 
 warning voice. God grant that it may have suc- 
 ceeded !" 
 
 He was quite at a loss what to say to this. 
 He was affected in some way or other, which I 
 could not explain ; and at all events, he seemed to 
 wish to escape from any further conversation. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 257 
 
 But I was unwilling to lose so favorable an op- 
 portunity; and therefore I turned about, and of- 
 fered to accompany him in the direction in which 
 he was going. He could not refuse with any de- 
 gree of civility ; so we walked together ; and that 
 I might not appear to force the subject of religion 
 upon him, in season, or out of season, I waited to 
 take advantage of any thing which he might 
 happen to say. 
 
 The funeral was still in his thoughts ; and the 
 first observation that he made was, that the de- 
 scription of the resurrection of the dead, which I 
 had read to them in the lesson, was certainly very 
 fine, but that he could not believe a word about the 
 resurrection itself 
 
 " Do you think it is not possible," I asked, 
 " or not probable ?" 
 
 " Neither the one," he answered, '• nor the 
 other." 
 
 "As to the possibility of the thing," I said, 
 "your difficulty, I presume, arises from your 
 knowing that the body, after death, is dissolved 
 into dust, and in many cases scattered abroad in 
 different places ; and you cannot conceive how the 
 particles can be brought together again, so as to 
 preserve the identity ; or, in plainer words, so as 
 to be known to be the same body." 
 
 " That is it, exactly," said he. 
 '22* 
 
258 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 I was very much relieved by this answer; for 
 I was alarmed ]est I might be led into an inter- 
 minable discussion about the soul, in regard to 
 which I was sure that he had none but the 
 most vulgar ideas ; and probably he had no clear 
 ideas at all about the soul, as distinct from the 
 body ; and I did not see how we could ever arrive 
 at any thing practical by that line of argument, 
 I therefore proceeded at once to argue upon his 
 own difficulty, and was very careful not to put 
 any new one into his head. 
 
 •' You have mentioned St. Paul," I said, " al- 
 ready, as a most distinguished preacher of the 
 gospel. It seems, therefore, that you know some- 
 thing of his character. It was he who wrote the 
 epistle from which the lesson is taken. Do you 
 remember how he explains, or illustrates, the re- 
 surrection ?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied; "by the sowing of the 
 seed ; but I could not comprehend it ; in short, it 
 seemed quite ridiculous." 
 
 We were walking at this moment through a 
 field of wheat. 
 
 " If I am not mistaken," I said, " this is one 
 of your fields." 
 
 He nodded assent. 
 
 " And perhaps you sowed this wheat yourself?" 
 
 He assented again. 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 259 
 
 " But it did not occur to you, it seems, that 
 whilst you were sowing, you Avere in fact burying 
 every single grain in its own little grave ?" 
 
 •' No, it did not," he said; " but it was certain- 
 ly something very much like it." 
 
 "Very like indeed," I proceeded; "and there- 
 fore so far St. Paul was in the right. And the 
 grains which you scattered about in the furrows 
 were dead ; were they not ?" 
 
 " Why to be sure," he answered, " they might 
 be called dead ; as all the moisture, which they 
 had in them whilst they were growing, seemed to 
 be entirely dried up, and there was no appearance 
 of life about them ; they had become quite hard, 
 and fit to be ground into flour." 
 
 " Well," I said ; " and what became of them, 
 when they were mixed with the soil and buried ? 
 Did they not begin to rot, as any human body 
 might do ?" 
 
 He granted it. 
 
 " Still, then, St. Paul is correct ; but now comes 
 the surprising change. When you might have 
 expected the grains of seed to have rotted entirely 
 away, and to disappear altogether, up sprung from 
 them innumerable small green blades, apparently 
 of grass ; did there not ?" 
 
 " There did," he answered. 
 
 " In fact," I said, " if you had examined those 
 
260 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 seeds, whilst they were rotting in the ground, you 
 would have found something in them most won- 
 derful amongst all the wonderful things which 
 surround us ; you would have found in each the 
 rudiment, or principle, or whatever it may be call- 
 ed, of a new plant ; something, indeed, which had 
 all the parts of a plant in miniature, and which 
 only wanted the heat and moisture arising from 
 the putrefaction of the rest of the seed to make it 
 vegetate and grow ; have you observed this, or 
 not?" 
 
 " I have often observed it," he replied. 
 
 " So then," I said, " the great Apostle might 
 have thought of some similar principle in the de- 
 caying body of a man, which hereafter might shoot 
 into life, and produce the new man." 
 
 " Yes," said he, " but we see nothing of this 
 sort in the human body." 
 
 " Nor do we," I rejoined, " in the dry grain ; 
 it appears afterwards, according to the law, which 
 God himself has established. For, you may re- 
 member, in talking of the apple-tree, we were 
 forced to impute every thing to the will and the 
 wisdom of God; and so we must in this case. 
 Pray what lodged that little embryo plant in the 
 body of the seed ? What made it sprout upwards 
 and downwards, upwards into the green blade 
 and downwards into the root ? Who put the em- 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 261 
 
 bryo plant into the right position to do this ? And 
 did not a stem afterwards issue out of the blade, 
 and then an ear from the top of the stem, and 
 lastly was not the ear filled with grains ? Who 
 planned all this, and ordained the means by which 
 the plan was executed 1 You and I know nothing 
 at all about it; no, nor the wisest philosopher. 
 In many cases, in which we are ignorant, a per- 
 son more skilled in the knowledge of nature than 
 we are may be perfectly informed; so that it 
 would be vastly foolish for us to say that such or 
 such a thing cannot be believed, or cannot be, 
 merely because we do not understand the how or 
 the why of the thing ; for others may understand 
 it very well, and we ourselves may come to un- 
 derstand it hereafter. In this case, however, of 
 the growth of the corn, we are all ignorant, both 
 wise and simple ; and we shall probably remain 
 so. But what of that ? The thing is as it is, and 
 goes on nevertheless — Why ? Because God is the 
 author of it, and keeps the necessary causes in un- 
 interrupted operation. Have you any thing to 
 object to this?" 
 
 " I have not," he answered, " 1 see clearly that 
 there must be a God, and I begin to admire his 
 works." 
 
 " Go on and prosper," I said. " The more 
 you know of them, the more you will admire 
 
262 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 them; and the more, I hope, you will love and 
 serve the Doer! But now tell me, is there any- 
 thing more wonderful, or more hard for God to 
 do, in the resurrection of a dead body from the 
 grave, than in the production of the wheat from 
 the seed?" 
 
 " There is a great difference," he replied, " in 
 the two things, after all." 
 
 '* There may be a hundred differences," I re- 
 joined; "but what of that? Does it follow, that 
 of two things, one is possible, and the other impos- 
 sible, because this other is not like the former in 
 all respects, when God too is the worker ?" 
 
 He could not say that. 
 
 " Well, then," I went on, " here is a thing, 
 namely, the resurrection of the dead, of which we 
 have yet no experience. St. Paul, indignant that 
 any man should doubt it, when God had said that 
 he would do it, tells the doubters that they might 
 form some idea of it from the sowing of seed and 
 the growing of the grain, which is equally inex- 
 plicable, but of which the fact is well known to 
 us. Shall we quarrel with the apostle, because 
 the two things cannot be exactly alike in all cir- 
 cumstances ? But what are the circumstances that 
 are unlike ?" 
 
 " The new plant," he answered, " springs 
 up from the seed, after a short period, before 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 263 
 
 the whole seed itself is turned into vegetable 
 mould." 
 
 "Very well," I said; "but it did not suit the 
 purposes of Providence, that there should be a 
 resurrection of the dead soon after the burial of 
 each corpse, but one simultaneous resurrection of 
 all at the last day ; on account of the general 
 judgment of mankind, then to take place, and 
 thereafter the everlasting separation of the good 
 and the bad into Heaven and Hell." 
 
 He seemed to shudder at this thought ; but he 
 made no remark. I therefore proceeded — " To 
 bring about a general resurrection at the moment, 
 in the twinkling of an eye, at the mighty sound of 
 a trumpet piercing to the remotest corners of the 
 universe ; undoubtedly there must be causes at 
 work with which we are unacquainted, or God 
 himself may do it immediately by an especial act 
 of power, when the appointed time is come. 
 Either way there ought to be no difficulty to us, 
 unless we think that God is neither all-wise, nor 
 almighty. He, whose contrivances are so subtle 
 and so complicated in thousands of natural things, 
 may readily be supposed capable of this ; and he, 
 whose power was great enough to make man at 
 the first, and is great enough to unmake him every 
 day, in the midst of health and strength, may 
 
264 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 readily be supposed capable of making him again 
 after death. Is not this so ?" 
 
 " These are wonderful things," he answered, 
 " but I cannot contradict them. I wish, however, 
 to know what will become of bodies which are 
 scattered about in various distant places, and parts 
 of which perhaps have passed into other sub- 
 stances !" 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Mr. Sambrook," I said, " if you 
 had but looked into your Bible now and then, you 
 would have had more exalted ideas of God's pow- 
 er ; so as not to stumble at such petty difficulties. 
 He that said, let there be light, and there was 
 light, cannot he order all the particles of a man's 
 body, scattered wherever they may be ; east, west, 
 north, and south; on the tops of the highest 
 mountains, and at the bottoms of the deepest 
 oceans ; to return in an instant of time to the rest 
 of the mass, and to rebuild the former man ! Cer- 
 tainly he can ; he has only to will, and the thing 
 is done. He cannot but know where every par- 
 ticle is, and no particle can be beyond the reach 
 of his power. But perhaps nothing of this kind 
 will be necessary ; all, indeed, that is necessary is 
 this ; that after the resurrection we should be cer- 
 tain we are the same persons as before ; and that 
 is possible with a very great change of our bodies, 
 as is proved in our passage from childhood to old 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 265 
 
 age ; every particle is changed, again and again, 
 and yet we are always conscious of our own iden- 
 tity. Let us have done then with cavils, Mr. Sam- 
 brook. It is God who has promised it, and he 
 will not fail. This settles the question of proba- 
 bility at once. We should have known nothing 
 about it, but for God's revelation. We might have 
 hoped a little about the soul, that it would survive 
 the shock of death; but the resurrection of the body, 
 we should not have dreamed of He has revealed 
 it to us, and therefore it is not only possible and 
 probable, but absolutely certain. God cannot lie. 
 But we must always remember that there will be 
 a resurrection, both of the just and of the unjust ; 
 and may he grant, for our Savior Jesus Christ's 
 sake, that you and I may be amongst the just !" 
 
 I had walked as far as was convenient to me, 
 when I spoke these last words ; and it did not 
 seem likely, if I continued the conversation, that 
 I could have concluded with any thing more for- 
 cible. I turned, therefore, suddenly, and took my 
 leave. 
 
 About two days after this conversation, as I 
 was walking through my parish to visit the sick, 
 Mr. Grange, whom I met frequently on the road, 
 accosted me unusually, and inquired if I had 
 heard the news. 
 
 23 
 
266 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 " What news ?" I said, " I have heard none." 
 
 "About Mr. Sambrook, Sir. He is dead!" 
 replied Mr. Grange. 
 
 " Mr. Sambrook dead !" I exclaimed, with a 
 mixture of surprise and terror. " God forbid, Sir ! 
 I should fear he was scarcely prepared to die ; but 
 God knows best when it is fit, in the exercise of 
 his government of the world, to inflict the blow 
 of death !" 
 
 " Be that as it may, Sir," said he, " Mr. Sam- 
 brook is certainly dead. And now I see that it will 
 give you still greater pain to hear the manner of 
 his death. He used to be your enemy, Sir ; and 
 there are too many who would be glad of the mis- 
 fortunes of an enemy ; which you, I perceive, are 
 not." 
 
 I was, indeed, very much shocked, and be- 
 trayed my inward feelings by my outward man- 
 ner. At the same time, I was eager to know 
 more ; I desired, and yet feared to be told the rest. 
 A thousand ideas darted through my head, like 
 lightning ; but that something tragical was to be 
 told, I had no doubt whatever. 
 
 "He was thrown, Sir," said Mr. Grange, "last 
 night from his chaise, and killed upon the spot." 
 
 " What ?" I said, " without any preparation ? 
 Not a moment spared to ask God to pardon 
 him?" 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 267 
 
 " I am told, Sir," he replied, " that the unfortu- 
 nate man scarcely breathed when he was found, 
 which was immediately after the accident." 
 
 " Let us all take warning, Mr. Grange," I said, 
 and passed on hastily ; for I was deeply affected, 
 and wanted a short time for silent meditation, on 
 the judgments of the Almighty disposer of all 
 events. 
 
 In the course of my walk, I was informed by 
 various persons of all the particulars of Mr. Sam- 
 brook's death. It seems that he had been drinking 
 at a tavern ; and, either from natural good-humor, 
 or stimulated by liquor, had undertaken to convey 
 some people, whom he met there, in his chaise to 
 the neighboring parish. Having done this, and 
 having probably drunk something more there, and 
 again on his return to another tavern, he was so 
 far heated as to contend for the lead on a narrow 
 road, with another chaise of the same description 
 as his own. The wheels of the two chaises came 
 in contact with each other ; he was thrown for- 
 ward with violence, in consequence of the sudden 
 stop ; he fell upon his head ; his neck was dislo- 
 cated ; and his death was instantaneous. 
 
 My anxiety about him led me to inquire what 
 had been his habits since I began first to converse 
 with him. I think I ascertained that he had 
 been much less frequently at the public-houses; 
 
268 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 but nobody assigned any other cause of this' ap- 
 parent amendment than the increasing want of 
 money. Whether he was amended in any other 
 respects after his mind had been in some measure 
 enlightened, I cannot tell. On the fatal day of 
 his death, he was evidently intoxicated ; or a man 
 of his age would never have engaged in so child- 
 ish and dangerous a contest. As to church, he 
 had never been there, except at his sister's funeral ; 
 although I had expected it of him, as the proof of 
 his intention to begin a new life. 
 
 His death, owing to the awful circumstances 
 of it, and the idea which had got abroad that he 
 had despised my warning voice, produced a great 
 sensation in the parish. At the funeral there was 
 an immense concourse of people. The distress 
 of the widoAV and daughters seemed to be beyond 
 all measure. The daughters fainted again and 
 again; the widow was supported by two of her 
 sons, and made several attempts to throw herself 
 into the grave. The church-yard resounded with 
 their cries. This at first astonished me. If these 
 persons had been brought up in religious habits, 
 or were likely to be touched with religious feel- 
 ings, the scene before them was undoubtedly most 
 affecting and most terrible. A husband, a father, 
 having persisted to the last in a vicious course, 
 and in the utter neglect of his Maker and Re- 
 
THE END OF INFIDELITY. 269 
 
 deemer, in spite of the instructions and admonitions 
 of his minister, was now hurled on the sudden by- 
 avenging justice, as it might reasonably be feared, 
 into a bitter eternity. But the case with these per- 
 sons was apparently the reverse, and must be ex- 
 plained in a different manner. And a circum- 
 stance, which came soon afterwards to my know- 
 ledge, did, I think, sufficiently explain it. Much 
 noise and tumult vvels heard within the poor man's 
 premises during the whole evening of the funeral; 
 such as is the consequence of intoxication ; and it 
 is more than probable that those who attended the 
 funeral were excited by the force of liquor to that 
 exhibition of excessive grief, with which the sober- 
 minded were shocked and disgusted. 
 
 I had an opportunity of discovering afterwards, 
 that the sons and daughters had a very inadequate 
 feeling of their father's calamity. They came to 
 me three or four times about the settlement of his 
 debt, which, at length, was finally discharged. 
 At first I feared to wound them to the quick by 
 mentioning his dreadful end; but I soon found 
 that there was no occasion for any delicacy. They 
 were manifestly very little moved by it. How- 
 ever, one or two of them came to church at inter- 
 vals, in consequence of what I then said to them. 
 The widow, whom I have not been able to see, 
 
 came once only. 
 
 23* 
 
270 THE END OF INFIDELITY. 
 
 One lesson is to be learned from this sad 
 history, that in attempting to save the souls of men, 
 we must not relax our efforts on the vain notion 
 that we shall have plenty of time because our 
 patient is strong and healthy. Death interposes, 
 and destroys the calculations and the patient 
 together. 
 
LEAVITT, LORD & CO. 
 
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