took every precaution to cut off all communication between the besiegers and the besieged, by raising false alarms of the desperate character of your antagonists, the enormities of which they were guilty, and the atrocities which they no doubt would perpetrate, if they should become masters. You shut up every avenue to impartial investigation and charitable inference, and hardened the heart against the "insinuation of truth and reason," by working upon the passions of your auditors, and laying down, a priori, that advocates of "Modern Infidelity" must necessarily be monsters of iniquity. You began by saying, that Atheism took its rise from the refutation of Deism: that when the ground of Deism was no longer tenable-when it was clearly demonstrated that there was too close a resemblance between the God displayed in nature and the God exhibited in the Bible, to leave any doubt on the mind of the impartial observer, as to the identity of the two; that then, they, whose wish it was to destroy religion on account of the fearful responsibilities to which it subjected them, started the idea of the non-existence of Deity; that they rather professed what they wished than what they believed. Being bankrupts in virtue and morals, there was no chance to escape the punishment due to their crimes, but by destroying the sovereign authority. You stated that it was not your object to inflame the passions, by going into a detail of the dreadful consequences of these opinions; yet you gave such a shadowy outline of these pretended consequences, as was more calculated to exasperate the feelings, than if you had filled up the picture. You left it to the mad enthusiasm of fanatical frenzy, to supply such objects and such colouring as were most likely to embitter the feelings and close the portals of conviction against the arguments of your opponents. You prepared them to receive every thing without examination. You may hereafter say. You forestalled every generous sentiment and emotion for the desire of truth, by calumniating your adversaries. Having no hope of convincing these alarming advocates of reason, you determined, if possible, to prevent a defection from your party; and, though you could not lessen the number of the Infidels, you determined to leave no means untried to stop their increase. Did you really wish to fan the flames of disagreement between man and man? Was it your object to make the domestic fireside a scene of strife, and to supply social harmony with the bitterness of contention? Did you wish that your hearers should become domestic persecutors, and that all connexion should cease between the Infidel and the Christian? that, instead of having fellow-feeling for each other, the evils of life should be augmented by mutual animosity and recrimination? I do not wish to impeach your candour, and am, therefore, willing to hope, that these representations proceeded rather from an intemperate zeal for the opinions you espouse, than from any deliberate wish to slander your opponents; if so, you will readily make the acknowledgment. If I thought otherwise, I should mourn over the depravity of that being, that could use such arguments in support of his opinions. I should sigh for the virtues he has lost; and I would start from that demon, and curse the hour of its birth, that could thus instil its poison into the heart, and destroy the best feelings of human nature.

In the course of your lecture, you told the audience that some of the various discrepancies of the different religious sects amounted to absolute contradiction; and you also added, that the Infidels had no room to boast, inasmuch as the Atheist and Deist were directly opposed to each other. This is not exactly correct-the Atheist is not opposed to the Deist; he only declines venturing conjectures upon those subjects of which he is ignorant. There is a material difference, in my opinion, be

tween denying a proposition and not admitting it. The Atheist cannot admit, neither does he deny. He only replies to the Deist's conjectures on the existence of Deity," that he cannot perceive how such a supposi tion should remove the difficulties and explain the mysteries which sur round us; to explain,” (says he,) “the difficulties, you have recourse to greater difficulties; and of two suppositions, you choose that which is the most difficult to maintain. You go contrary to all sound philosophy, in neglecting the simplest elucidation for the most complex. You make the Deity eternal, and then clothe him with a multitude of the most extraordinary and contradictory attributes; and even then you are obliged to work a miracle in every step of your reasoning, to show how he could create matter out of nothing; how he could give motion to matter; and, he being a perfect Being, how the creation should have been so imperfect. Are you so sufficiently acquainted with all the properties of matter, as to be able to say that it is incapable of producing all the phenomena around us? Have you dived into all the secret springs of nature, so as to affirm that it cannot do all these things? I do not say that it can; but, as you only go on supposition, it appears to me to be more reasonable, as well as more philosophical, to make suppositions upon the things we do know, than to suppose first one thing, and then another on the top of it, and so on without end. It is better not to waste time in making suppositions, but to pursue our investigations uncramped with any theory; and, above all, that theory that requires the surrender of our reasoning powers."

You also called upon the Atheist to prove the non-existence of Deity, and contended that he ought to do so, before he denied it. I could see the Infidels smile at this appeal, as if they thought that you could not be in earnest, or, if in earnest, they smiled at your imbecility. What! are we to prove that Gulliver never went to the moon? Is it we that have to show that Don Quixote did not attack the wind-mills? Have we to demonstrate that these fabled heroes have not existed? No! no! You call upon us for our assent to your proposition. Prove it then, or, if you cannot, allow us the liberty to doubt. The burden of proving lies with you, and not with us. It is not for you to say, "This Being is the author of all things; for if he did not create every thing, show me who did ? Ah! you cannot do that; therefore, my proposition is evident." This reasoning is on a par with that which proves that Prince Modoc, who sailed from Wales in the 12th century and was never heard of after, discovered America; for (it has been cunningly asked) if he did not go to America, where did he go?

You drew a dreary picture of the state of that being, who had no hope of a future existence; butyou misrepresented his character and his feelings. I will attempt to describe one of those individuals who hold such singular opinions, for your better information.

The "modern Infidel," generally speaking, is ardent in the pursuit of truth, and seeking knowledge with avidity. Proud of those reasoning powers that almost all mankind suffer to be perverted, he unceremoniously applies them to all subjects, and determines what is true and what is false by the aid of these universal and only tests.

He is even bold enough to examine the ideas imbibed in infancy, and reasons himself out of the tales of the nursery. He spurns with contempt that doctrine which teaches him, the child shall suffer for the sins of its great-great-great, &c. grand-father.

Notwithstanding these irregularities, he is as moral as the greatest stickler for religion. His ideas and conversation are equally elevated and far more rational.

Having reasoned himself out of every religious expectation and denun ciation, he ceases to look on this state of existence as merely probationary, and expecting no rewards, fearing no punishment hereafter, he turns "this vale of tears" into that paradise which the enthusiast and the fanatic vainly look for in a future state. Freed from every idea that he could commit sins before he was born, he begins to feel that pleasure and tranquillity that always arise from spotless innocence. Having freed himself from an unjust load of imaginary responsibility, and removed every obstacle to rational and virtuous enjoyment, he experiences all that satisfaction for which the sinner sighs in vain. Having learnt the precepts of justice, he walks abroad with the dignity and assurance of one that had nought to fear. The cup of pleasure is never dashed from his lips by those painful recollections, and those interesting monitors that remind the sinner of the dangerous precipice on which he stands. He never runs the fearful risk of losing, by one act of folly, an eternity of enjoyments, and experiencing no remorse for crimes he has never committed-feeling no compunction for sins it was not possible he could participate in, he is more at liberty to attend to those beauties which nature has spread around him.

It is he alone that can feel, in all their force, the grand and ever delightful scenes of nature. It is he that can smile at the imposing magni ficence of the universe. Yes! it is he that feels exquisite and thrilling sensations, whilst contemplating the varied hues of the landscape, the delightful variety of hill and dale, of wood and plain; the serpentine meanderings of the majestic river, bordered with delightful walks, now through flowery plains covered in wild profusion with what is most exbilirating to the sense and pleasing to the sight; now he traverses the grove, listening to the sweet melody of the feathered tribes; here and there, through a sudden opening in the trees, he catches a glance at the distant landscape, studded with hamlets, and bounded with lofty mountains. He looks upon the towering cliffs with silent admiration and wonder; and now he revels with extacies in the romantic and luxuriant vales. These pleasures are felt and enjoyed with a keener relish, as they are un eclipsed with the imaginary splendours of a future state. The enjoyments of the Infidel possesses all that superiority over those of the Christian, that the satisfaction of real possession gives over doubtful expectation, While the devout Christian is breathing the unwholesome air of his conventicle, and sweating and trembling before the being of his own creation, the Infidel is paying to the author of all things (if such there be) a more substantial homage, by invigorating his frame and elevating his spirits with the aromatic gales that float in the atmosphere, and by dwelling with inexpressible raptures on the multitude of charms that nature presents to his delighted senses. The setting sun recalls to his recollection “by-gone days," and he sighs for the friends of his youth—his rapturous feelings are now tinged with a melancholy as fascinating as the shades of evening. The milder beauties of the night have succeeded to the more brilliant glories of the day; and as he walks in the meditative silence of twilight, his imagination plies her pinions with tenfold the rapidity of light, darting from star to star, and from system to system, in search of the confines of that universe which, it is said, was created, but she every where finds immeasurable and boundless space peopled with beings, whose magnificence and glory are as eternal as the laws by which they are governed. Failing to find the end of this pretended creation, she now seeks for the beginning, and to her astonishment, she finds every drop of water a universe, and every atom a world of animated beings.

And, as the mind ponders on these amazing wonders, immensely great, and immeasurably little, we involuntarily exclaim―

"Infinity within, infinity without, belie creation!"

I shall not pain your feelings by dwelling long upon your second lecture, of which I dare say, you are by this time heartily ashamed, I would merely ask, if some of those theories you laughed at so unfeelingly, were not the reveries of Burnet, Whiston, Woodward and several others, to show that the wonders related in the Bible might be accounted for upon philosophical principles. You only mentioned the name of Cuvier, during the whole lecture, and it happens, that this gentleman is on your side of the question. You put "he assures us," again, "they tell us," "these gentlemen tell us," "and we read in one place," "and we see in another," and so on, instead of a name or names; why not mention names? I can readily conceive the delicacy of your situation, and allow that perhaps there might be some little danger in so doing; but then it would have freed you from suspicions. When you alluded to the "machinery at Manchaster and elsewhere," as being so much more motion created, in contradiction to the proposition that the motion of the universe is a constant quantity, I hope you only intended this allusion as a joke; I should be sorry if you were in earnest, at finding you so deficient in the philosophy of motion. Why, you allow that man can create motion! Surely you have no occasion for a Deity to set the universe in motion, seeing that man is competent to produce it! You have made man the Almighty of the universe, a proposition for which the Atheist never had the presumption to contend. I dare say you will not think it necessary to correct this inadvertent slip in your subsequent lectures.

You were also very pleasant upon the subject of intelligence and organization: you supposed that it was as absurd to say that intelligence and organization were inseparable, as to say that the painter and his pencil, the musician and his instrument were not to be disjoined. You said that we only perceived intelligence by the means with which it manifested itself, and that the organization could only be considered the mere instru ment of the mind, as the brush was but a mere instrument in the hands of the painter, by which he makes known his skill and ingenuity.

How absurd! you exclaimed, to suppose that it was the brush and not the painter that produced this delightful variety of light and shade, or that the melody was produced by the instrument, and not by the musician. What, because we never see the manifestations of intelligence in the painter inseparable from his brush, are we to conclude that the intelligence lies in the brush, and not in the painter, or are we to conclude that when he lays down the brush, he ceases to be a painter. In this illustration, you consider intelligence as the painter, and organization as the pencil. I will examine it very shortly.

In your third lecture, which was on the powers of the mind, you proved as clear as day-light, that mere sensation alone, without the powers of retention, of comparison, of association and abstraction, could never make an intelligent being. It was also equally clear, that these powers could never make an intelligent being without sensation. There could be no knowledge when there were no sensations to remember, no feelings to compare, no ideas to associate, and nothing to abstract. These powers can never manifest themselves without sensations, any more than motion can exhibit itself without matter, neither can there be any sensations without the organs necessary to transmit impressions to the cerebral substance, or otherwise we might expect to see blind painters and deaf musicians.

What now becomes of your illustration above, of the independence of intelligence or organization? If you compare it with this reasoning, you

will see that you make the pencil the instructor of the painter. You make it out, that the painter, the musician, the sculptor, and the mechanician derive all their knowledge from a pencil, fiddle-stick, a chisel, and a hammer! Oh! what would I not give for the pencil of a Raphael, or a Rubens, that could teach me, so to variegate the canvass, as to draw forth the applause and admiration of succeeding ages!!

It would be cruelty to retort all that ridicule and sarcasm you so profusely heaped on the Infidel. No, Sir, I can sympathise with the anguish and bitterness of your feelings. Unhappy man! with what agony will you see that you have demonstrated the very proposition you have laboured years to refute? How weak! How feeble! How vain! is man when he would wrestle with imunortal truth, and swerve her to his purposes; when he would change the order of Heaven and Earth, of nature and her laws, merely to confound a few worms like himself?

Dec. 15th,-I have just heard your fourth lecture, but you said nothing in my opinion, to take away the force and point of any of the preceding observations. You certainly did endeavour to avoid the conclusion, or to take away the inference, that must inevitably be drawn from your third lecture, that the mind was not independent of the bodily structure. You were continually talking about "original powers of the mind," "the original laws of the mind," and "the senses being instruments of the mind." In these expressions, you have tacitly assumed that which ought to be proved, namely, "that the mind is distinct from the body." There are no original powers or laws of the mind to be discovered from observation, neither can the senses properly be said to be instruments of the mind. It requires some knowledge to use an instrument which the mind does not possess originally. An infant has no mind, it is entirely passive in receiving every impression, these impressions or sensations being continually repeated, and called into existence by degrees, by those energies or powers whose aggregate we call mind. We see them at first feebly. They become more active or more perceptible as we experience more sensations, the memory becomes more strong as it is more exercised, and all the other powers of the mind in like manner become more or less perfect, as they are exerted with more or less intensity; but the powers of reason and abstraction are generally not perfected till the human animal has arri ved at maturity. Experience daily teaches us, that those powers of the mind strengthen as we grow up to manhood, and weaken as we decline in age. It may be said alike of the body and mind, that "they bud, they bloom, they bear their fruit, they wither and decay." We know that by disease of the body, the mind may no longer be able to come to any just conclusions, as to what is passing without, and may form conceptions that are totally at variance with nature; whence happens this? Is it not that the diseased state of the body causes erroneous impressions? How is it, that the mind should be affected with the body? When a man ceases to feel, does he not cease to think also?

A multitude of similar questions might be asked, all of which tend to show the fallacy of the metaphysicians who contend, in defiance of facts, that intelligence is separate from organization, a blow on the head would not only silence these puny reasoners, but show at once the brittleness of their arguments.

As the inferences to be drawn from these facts become better understood, religion will gradually decline, and in a few ages, Christianity will be known only by being the foot-ball of wits, or as blotting a page in history. We may then hope, that something like brothernood will be reciprocal among mankind, and the human mind, being unshackled from