with ignorance, visible to the unlearned, I could not help making secret and severe remarks upon them, for it was my days of haughty wickedness. I have said to myself in language yet more ungentle, that of which the following is the import: "Self-admiring worm! an expert man could frame in half an hour, a more ingenious lie against any narrative that ever was written, than any which you are capable of repeating after the last one you heard talk."

Strange to tell, these discoveries, these facts, and even these feelings, had no other influence upon me than to strengthen my resolve to read further, and examine my old doubts with more accuracy.

CHAPTER LII.

Means of Rescue. More examples of seeming truth but actual falsehood.

After I had gone through all the writings of the renowned Voltaire, I could not find one argument or position, which was unmixed truth. Since then I have seen letters of certain Jews to Voltaire. I could not discover in them any evidence of a solitary misrepresentation. This proves to me that those who feel right do not wilfully, and of course do not often mistake. These Israelites in writing to this great man, tell him that he took his thoughts from Bolingbroke, Morgan, Tindal, &c., who, in their turn had copied them from others. It really did seem to me as though it was not on account of their weight, or superior excellence, that we need suspect any one of or ginality who copies them. My disappointment was great, and my astonishment

indescribable, to find writings which had revolutionized provinces, or perhaps nations in their religious creed, destitute of truth and full of falsehood. Pure, lovely truth, art thou discarded? Is falsehood, black, ungainly falsehood, loved in place of truth? Only in matters. of religion. The carnal mind loves darkness there, but in other things men prefer light.

I resolved to read the works of others of the renowned, and of the talented; for perhaps it was in these books that we might find united in one lovely circle, strength, mildness, truth, candour, and philanthropy. I took hold of Volney's Ruin of Empires, most commonly and familiarly called Volney's Ruins. I had heard this work extolled long and loud, and I read it attentively. The style was excellent, and the manner captivating; but that which was more pleasing still, was this, the profusion of bitter mis-statement, that constant stream of malignant untruth in which I had been wading, was wanting here. The most of his text was truth, real truth. The impression made on my mind by this volume, I shall not be able to make the reader fairly comprehend without some previous course of explanation is passed through. I think this can be made plain by relating the substance of an interview which took place between a minister of the gospel and an infidel. They held a long conversation on a point which, unless it is understood, no one can understand Volney or his doctrines. This dialogue between the deist and the preacher cannot be given verbally, but only substantially. I can come very close to the amount of sentiment touched on that occasion, but accuracy of words I cannot attempt, nor is it necessary. Dialogue which took place between a deist and a preacher.

Deist.-Another, and the strongest reason why I can

never receive the religion you profess is, that it speaks of visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation! I have too much respect for my Creator to believe he will ever do this in any case.

Preacher. Perhaps you did not notice that the verse does not speak of visiting the punishment due to the father upon the children. I myself do not believe that God punishes the child for the father's sin. It is the iniquity of the father which he visits upon the child.

Deist.-I do not believe that he would visit any thing of the father's upon the innocent child, in any way or in any shape. I have a higher esteem for my Maker than this would amount to. I do not believe it, and I will not believe it.

Preacher. You do believe it, for you see it all around you every day and every hour, and you consent to it, and you approve of it.

Deist. I do not understand you, sir.

Preacher. You may understand if you will, for nothing is plainer in visible creation. I knew a man (Mr. S.) who had one son, his only child. This man would not work. He would not humble himself down to honest labour. He seemed to have an invincible aversion to bodily toil. Here his iniquity began, for the God of the Bible had ordered him to work. He must have food and raiment, and he frequented horse races, and frequently made a considerable sum by betting. He would attend card parties, and frequently filled his pockets from the losses of those less skilful than himself. In this way I knew him to spend nearly twenty years. His little son was very lively and healthful, and promisingly intellectual. As this active little boy grew up, he did not work any more than his father did, and no one expected he would,

He loved best to go with his father from place to place, and from village to village. He mingled in different kinds of company, saw new faces continually, and all childish embarrassments wore away. He became skilful in riding fleet horses and in different games. His father's character became his. No one expected it to be otherwise. It was easier to teach him a love for loose amusements than for toil. The tavern-house revel was more attractive for the youth of sixteen, than was the corn-field employment. But mark you, the father was not happy. Indolence opens the door to other vices. He lost the respect of his fellow-citizens. He loved intoxicating drinks; he became otherwise abandoned, and was miserable. His iniquity was punished much here in this life. But his son was unhappy too. His father's character descended to him. God has declared in the hearing of all parents, that it is not his plan to prevent it. He became a practiser of the same sins which his father had loved. He became unhappy in proportion to his guilt. The iniquity of the father descended to the son. He followed the same course of idleness and profligacy as closely as his features followed those of his father's in expression. If this, sir, had been the only case where the character and the iniquity of the father had become the son's over again, it would overturn your tempt to be wiser or more amiable than Omnipotence. But you know of cases all around you, and they are all over the earth, where children take after their fathers in their vices, and of course suffer as their fathers suffered, in proportion to their guilt. We will return to notice this and similar cases again, as soon as I have placed before you one of an opposite character, evincing the same principle. There was a man (Mr. T.) whom you knew. He was not poor, that is, he possessed a productive and

at

valuable tract of land, but he did not refuse to plough it. He earned his bread from day to day, although the sweat dropped from his brow whilst obtaining it. He had no time to go to the horse race, for his harvest he would not neglect. You know how comfortable and how quiet all was around him. He had the confidence of his relatives and his friends. He seemed to be very happy. His sons all took after him. When not in the school-house, he had them in the field.

he did, and begin to be

They now work just as hard as as much respected. The father's

character and his peace have descended to them. You know very well that the father could have taught them idleness as easily as he taught them industry, and God would not have prevented it. There are singular cases of exception to be seen in the process of every common plan, but they prove nothing. God has promised seed time and harvest, and we have it. A few unseasonable weeks, or a failure of harvest, does not disprove the assertion that we have harvest. Winter is a cold season, and a warm day in January does not disprove that truth. Summer is a warm season, and a cold day in June does not falsify the declaration. That father could have taught his sons habits of mirth and revelry, as soon as he taught them months of toil, and God would not have interfered. By refusing to interpose coercively, he visits the evils of the fathers upon their offspring. If that man who was punished at W— -n circuit court for stealing, (his father was notoriously dishonest, and all his neighbours knew it,) if that man had spoken as follows to the jury and to the judge, what would have been their reply? "Fellow-citizens, I cannot see how I am to blame for stealing, for my father did so before me. I always loved it, and I always practised it. My father always preferred taking his neighbour's property to work, and I have only