The unfortunate Shelley, standing in an Italian church, said to some friend-"What a divine religion would be found out, if charity were made its principle instead of faith!" Indeed it is mournful to see how freely all those people censured what they did not at all understand; but it is not necessary to say much of their fanciful notions, for their writings and lives remain to constitute their own refutation. However, I would humbly ask of any who may now hold the same opinion, what is Christianity but a religion of love? Its professors, indeed, are, for the most part, worldly and cold; but what are its tenets? And what would all men be if they were truly fervent in its practice? Is it not all founded and fed on love? No honest Christian can ever inflict wrong on the affections of another, can ever be

* As a proof that infidelity is not less liable to prejudice than bigotry itself, we might quote the instance of Lord Byron (an infidel poet, greatly to be pitied for his errors), whose acquaintance with the Scriptures was not so "intimate" as his biographer, Mr. Moore, supposes. For he asserts, in his preface to "Cain" (catching up the idea, perhaps, from a loose recollection that Warburton had written a book on the subject), that the Old Testament contains no reference to the immortality of the soul. Whereas it abounds with them, not even excepting the Pentateuch itself, which is the subject of Warburton's defence. It is lamentable to think how far this error, the offspring of indolence and vanity, might have influenced him in assailing and deriding religion. Indeed, as to the question of prejudice (or that predilection in the heart which arises from passion and self-will), infidels and bigots may, for the most part, go together.

untrue to his social relations, for his fellow-man and himself are blended by the spirit of his faith into one cause and interest-the interest of the Creator. His whole life is a series of sacrifices to his God and to his neighbour. Even his zeal against the enemies of his Church is not the zeal of the fanatic, which denounces crime with much of hatred for the offence, but little of pity or goodwill for the offender. His is the zeal of sympathy and love. Looking up to Heaven himself as the ruling aim of his existence, he seeks to draw all men thither along with him, and dares not cast off even the most unworthy. His religion is not merely of that sentimental and fanciful kind which expends, in vain and indiscreet controversy, among his companions, that fervour which ought to be economised for the purpose of lessening the arduousness of practice, and which is so little capable of holding out against external temptation; or that spiritual aridity which is thought to be the severest trial of the devout. The stream of truth flows through him for the instruction of his fellow-men; but he is careful that it receives no taint from the mingling of his own earthly feelings, and he is therefore reserved and discreet in his speech to those who are in error; rather suggesting the desire of inquiry than presuming on his own ability to satisfy it; never stooping to the degradation of human respect where duty calls on him to declare his sentiments; never obtruding the sacred feelings of his bosom where they can only have the

effect of awaking the proud and combative spirit of controversy within the breasts of others, and so making their errors a part of their affections. He questions even those opinions which appear to him surprisingly erroneous, with an air of modesty which has something disarming in it, and appears more moderate in vindication of the truth than many are in the defence of error. He never gives even the proudest or most sensitive nature reason to feel that the love of conquest, or of opposition, ever supersedes that of his advantage; but, while he shows this diffidence in himself and real charity to others, he is never detected in the guilt of mean compliance with society; for error, in his presence, feels that it is not approved, and yet it cannot hate or accuse the censurer of harshness. Experience teaches him how seldom it is that men meet together and argue in society, with that white and virgin spirit on which there is no difficulty in inscribing the handwriting of truth, and how great a difficulty even the best intentioned persons feel in purifying their sentiments and language from the taint of self-opinion and self-love. He knows that change of opinion is the fruit of reflection, of prayer, and of self-examination, not of vain and disputatious controversy. Rigid in that self-discipline which is so necessary to keep him free from the enervating influence of the senses, and exact in all the observances of his religion, it is seldom that he makes those sacred themes the subject of common conversation, and he shrinks from

But

the affectation of that peculiar turn of expression, imitative of the style of the holy writings, which is vulgarly denominated cant. He chooses his time and place for spiritual converse, and in mixed society, which he uses sparingly, rather indicates, by the guarded charity of his language, the influence of the grand and purifying motive from which all his actions take their rise. there is no such restraint laid upon his practice; and, accordingly, his example goes far beyond his speech, for he fearlessly undertakes himself the labours which he only hesitatingly recommends to others. Thus, as the tide of time rushes by him, he stands, not loitering in idle expectance on the brink, but watchful to dye it as it passes with the hue of virtue. Thus making his actions set the stamp of sincerity upon his words; thus severe to himself, and compassionate to others; thus true to his Creator, and kind to his fellow-being, his life resembles a beautiful image, pointing to the skies while it smiles upon the earth; a flame shooting to heaven, but giving light and warmth to man.

CHAPTER XV.

A Story of Psyche.

AFTER the gate of Eden was closed upon the exiled parents of mankind, the maiden Psyche,* still drooping with penitence for her fault, still bathed in tears of filial sorrow, and pining for some means of effecting a reconciliation with her offended benefactor, passed into a valley of the east, inferior indeed in loveliness to the Paradise which she had forfeited, but still lovely and blooming beyond all that our cold imagination can conceive of that Paradise itself.

The sorrowing maiden was astonished at the change which she felt in her nature. Passions, which, during her days of innocence and favour, remained almost concealed from her own knowledge within her bosom, or only awoke in gentle impulses to give a zest and force to her enjoyments, now startled her by the strange and unruly violence with which they rebelled against her government. It seemed as if they participated in that spirit which estranged from her dominion the creatures of the air and forest, from the moment she lost the favour

* The Soul.