the
_Sentimental Journey_?--

"To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons
of the Inquisition--behold _religion_ with mercy and justice chained
down under her feet,--there, sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal,
propped up with racks, and instruments of torment.--Hark!--what a
piteous groan!--See the melancholy wretch who uttered it, just
brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock-trial, and endure the
utmost pain that a studied system of _religious cruelty_ has been
able to invent. Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his
tormentors. _His body so wasted with sorrow and long confinement,
you'll see every nerve and muscle as it suffers._ Observe the last
movement of that horrid engine.--What convulsions it has thrown him
into! Consider the nature of the posture in which he now lies
stretched.--What exquisite torture he endures by it.--'Tis all nature
can bear.--Good GOD! see how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his
trembling lips, willing to take its leave, but not suffered to
depart. Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell,--dragg'd out
of it again to meet the flames--and the insults in his last agonies,
which this principle--this principle, that there can be religion
without morality--has prepared for him."--_Sermon 27th_.

The next extract is preached on a text to be found in Judges xix,
ver. 1, 2, 3, concerning a "certain Levite":--

"Such a one the Levite wanted to share his solitude and fill up that
uncomfortable blank in the heart in such a situation; for,
notwithstanding all we meet with in books, in many of which, no
doubt, there are a good many handsome things said upon the secrets
of retirement, &c.... yet still, '_it is not good for man to be
alone_': nor can all which the cold-hearted pedant stuns our ears
with upon the subject, ever give one answer of satisfaction to the
mind; in the midst of the loudest vauntings of philosophy, nature
will have her yearnings for society and friendship;--a good heart
wants some object to be kind to--and the best parts of our blood, and
the purest of our spirits, suffer most under the destitution.

"Let the torpid monk seek Heaven comfortless and alone. God speed
him! For my own part, I fear I should never so find the way;