and all other spiritual departments he freely
introduces falsehood, nothing doubting; and has long done so, with a
profuseness not elsewhere met with in the world. The unhappy creature,
does he not know, then, that every lie is accursed, and the parent of
mere curses? That he must _think_ the truth; much more speak it? That,
above all things, by the oldest law of Heaven and Earth which no man
violates with impunity, he must not and shall not wag the tongue of
him except to utter his thought? That there is not a grin or beautiful
acceptable grimace he can execute upon his poor countenance, but is
either an express veracity, the image of what passes within him; or else
is a bit of Devil-worship which he and the rest of us will have to pay
for yet? Alas, the grins he executes upon his poor _mind_ (which is all
tortured into St. Vitus dances, and ghastly merry-andrewisms, by the
practice) are the most extraordinary this sun ever saw.

We have Puseyisms, black-and-white surplice controversies:--do not,
officially and otherwise, the select of the longest heads in England
sit with intense application and iron gravity, in open forum, judging of
"prevenient grace"? Not a head of them suspects that it can be improper
so to sit, or of the nature of treason against the Power who gave an
Intellect to man;--that it can be other than the duty of a good citizen
to use his god-given intellect in investigating prevenient grace,
supervenient moonshine, or the color of the Bishop's nightmare, if that
happened to turn up. I consider them far ahead of Cicero's Roman Augurs
with their chicken-bowels: "Behold these divine chicken-bowels, O Senate
and Roman People; the midriff has fallen eastward!" solemnly intimates
one Augur. "By Proserpina and the triple Hecate!" exclaims the other,
"I say the midriff has fallen to the west!" And they look at one another
with the seriousness of men prepared to die in their opinion,--the
authentic seriousness of men betting at Tattersall's, or about to
receive judgment in Chancery. There is in the Englishman something
great, beyond all Roman greatness, in whatever line you meet him; even
as a Latter-Day Augur he seeks his fellow!--Poor devil, I believe it is
his intense love of peace, and hatred of breeding discussions which lead
no-whither, that has led him into this sad practice of amalgamating true
and false.

He has been at it these two hundred years; and has now carried it to a
terrible length. He could