ercise of the principle, how much might be expected from an universal acceptation of it's doctrines. To argue against it, therefore, from it's imperfect and partial influence, is but to shew how far from the point we may wander, when we enter the vague and uncertain path of scepticism and metaphysical discussion, leaving

"Truths that wake

"To perish never:

"Which neither listlessness nor mad endeavour,

"Nor man, nor boy,

"Nor all that is at enmity with joy,

"Can utterly abolish or destroy."

WORDSWORTH.

Truths which find a hallowed connection with all noble minds; that shed their vivifying spirit over every department of life, humanizing, purifying, and animating the whole.

No, it is not, it can never be in the power of a few irregularly formed but powerful minds,

who proudly seek celebrity by straying from the common road of happiness, and who boast of their wanderings, to entice the unwary into the same devious paths they have chosen,-it is not for them to destroy the glorious light of religious truth, although they may seek to obscure it, or render it bewildering, by turning it upon imagined defects; who, in the senseless pride of forming a system, labour to subvert every thing which gives confidence and happiness to the heart, and consistency and stability to the conduct of man, by boldly declaring that the beautiful harmony which pervades the world, that stamp of an eternal intelligence, is but a "fortuitous collision, a play of atoms, agitated by a blind movement;" that the Gospel presents no other advantage than that of being a good code of morality; and that it is the grossest superstition to imagine that “the sufferings and death of an unoffending individual, and of one, too, who pretended to be nothing less than the Son of God, could in any

way contribute to the salvation of a guilty world," even supposing such a sacrifice had been required. Happily, however, for mankind, these infidel notions are so uncongenial with human wants and human feelings, that they carry their own antidote with them; and the ways of God are vindicated to man, even by his internal feelings, had he no other proofs to assure him of their wisdom and boundless mercy.

Yet, external proofs can never be wanting, but to those who wilfully blind themselves from the observation. It must in every society be apparent, that, however well the various springs which regulate the machine of government may be arranged and conducted, yet without the vital influence of Religion pervading the whole, it's movements will be obstructed, it's effects fail, and the benefits which would result from the free and harmonious operation of it's several parts would quickly be lost.

Arguments might be advanced, ad infinitum, upon the subject; but, my dear Albert, they must surely be unnecessary to you, whose acuteness and observation must eventually discard with indignation that veil which now obscures your mental vision: yes, a time will assuredly arrive, when that which you now cherish as a conviction, will be found and acknowledged by you but a wavering and vague opinion, supported only by self-love, and a vain desire of distinction. But, my Albert, let me beseech you to have a nobler aim, reassume the dignity of your nature, which your cold and comfortless system debases.

Is it for man, who partakes of the Divinity, to degrade himself to the condition of the brute creation?-made to rise and expatiate over the high and glorious works of an all-powerful and all-wise Being, can he wilfully bear down the aspirations of his soul, and chain it's affections to the earth? And is this what you would per.

suade us to do? is this the grovelling system you would give us in exchange for that which assures us of life, and light, and joy? Yet, if you will still refuse to open your eyes to that resplendent light which shines around you,— if the voice of nature cannot arrest your attention, if your heart boasts it's insensibility to the most affecting, and ceases to glow with the most sublime sentiments,-if you prefer trusting to your own feeble reason, rather than listen to the clear but still small voice within you, if you can, in fine, enjoy happiness in the dark circle you have drawn around you, at least have pity on your fellow-men, nor seek to lay the fatal spell upon them. Prove, at least, your sincerity, by warning them, if they enter that dreadful circle, they must

"All hope abandon!"

And, Albert! forgive her, who never yet departed from that sincerity which is the essence of friendship, when she adds, in con