with those who have drank deep of the fountain of human knowledge, and who dissolved not the pearl of their salvation in the draught. We err with Bacon, the great confidant of nature, fraught with all the learning of the past, and almost prescient of the future, yet too wise not to know his weakness, and too philosophic not to feel his ignorance. We err with Milton, rising on an angel's wing to heaven, and, like the bird of morn, soaring out of sight amid the music of his grateful piety. We err with Locke, whose pure philosophy only taught him to adore it's source, whose warm love of genuine liberty was never chilled into rebellion with it's Author. We err with Newton, whose star-like spirit, shooting athwart the darkness of the sphere, too soon to re-ascend the place of his nativity."* With men like these, my Albert, and innumerable others of the same elevated genius and ardent piety, let us, like the individual whose animated words I have used, * Phillips. determine to err, until something more worthy our belief and homage than the Christian Religion is offered to us. But, Albert, if there is not a God, if there is no future world,—think, for a moment think, what are the heavy clouds, what the overwhelming darkness, which must cover the feelings, that seem to outstrip our reason, when endeavouring to explore futurity! For a moment think of the profound, the melancholy, the eternal silence, which would surround all nature, that would follow this gay and beautiful world! With bosoms panting with hope, and none to cling to! with hearts shrinking from death and annihilation, but seeing them advance with rapid strides, and unable to elude them! Does Atheism, then, as it boasts, free us from the terror of futurity? Surely not. Can such a system produce happiness? Oh no! because it is repugnant to every emotion of nature.— On the contrary, as has been justly observed, "A God, such as my heart delineates, encourages and moderates my feelings; I say to myself, he is good and indulgent. He knows my weakness, he loves to produce happiness, and I see the advances of death without terror. But to live under the dominion of an insensible nature, may make every fear reasonable. In vain I demand what is to become of me? it is deaf to my voice. Devoid of will, of thought, or feeling, it is governed by an irresistible force, whose motion is a mystery never to be unfolded."* Can a feeling and elevated soul, enjoying a sentiment of it's own grandeur, bear to think upon such an end,-bear to anticipate such a destruction of all it's faculties? Surely such thoughts would blight the noblest actions, and be a continual source of despondency. Save us, merciful God, from such a fatal delusion! * Neckar. guard our minds from such horrid phantoms, from all those errors of reason and dangerous sophistries, which draw a barrier between man and his Creator! Oh! Albert, had you, like me, watched the slow but steady steps of death advance towards those who were most dear, had you beheld his approach in the moments of solitude; had you known every earthly tie (save one) dissolved, and life presenting a dreary waste, the visions of human hope dispelled, you surely would, like me, seek to refresh your exhausted spirit, from the source of hope which Religion mercifully presents; rather than dash from your own lips the draught she offers, and rashly deprive your fellow-creatures of the same cordial of hope,—or, with horrid mockery, offer in it's stead the bitter chalice of doubt, uncertainty, and despair! "What an old tale is this!" my Albert cries.- "Truth is immortal as thy soul; and fable "As fleeting as thy joys. Be wise, nor make "Heav'n's highest blessing vengeance; O be wise! "Nor make a curse of immortality." YOUNG. Adieu! That conviction may pierce the heart of Albert, is the unceasing prayer of his Faithful EUGENIA. P.S. This letter is but a short one, but the messenger waits, and obliges me to close it long ere I wished. |