ave said I was not insensible to the advantages of infidelity;
but nature had endowed me with prudence as well as passions; and I
wanted evidence for what appeared to me its most gratuitous
philosophy of the future,--for its too uncertain doubts of all
futurity, and its too doubtful certainty of none but a happy one!
I also wanted evidence of the falsehood of Christianity itself. As
to the former, I shall not trouble you with my difficulties; there
were indeed then, as now, an admirable variety of theories; but if
I could have been convinced of the futility of the claims of
Christianity, I believe I should have been easily satisfied as to
a substitute; or rather, unable to decide between Chubb and
Bolingbroke, Voltaire and Rousseau, I should most likely have tossed
up for my religion.

It was the distractions with regard to the evidences of Christianity
that ruined me; and at last condemned me to be a Christian.

I was first troubled, like so many in our day, about the miracles. I
could hardly bring my mind to believe them. One day, talking with a
jovial fellow whom I casually met (not of very strong mind indeed, but
who made up for it by very strong passions) over the improbability of
such occurrences, he exclaimed, as he mixed his third glass of brandy
and water, "I only wonder how any one can be such a fool as to believe
in any stuff of that sort? Do you think that, if the miracles had been
really wrought, there could have been any doubters of Christianity?"
He tossed off the brandy and water with a triumphant air; and I quite
forgot his argument in compassion for his bestiality. I expostulated
with him. "You may spare your breath, Mr. Solomon," said he. "May this
be my poison (as it will be my poison)," mixing a fourth glass, "if I
need any sermons on the subject. Hark ye,--I am perfectly convinced
that the habit I am chained to will be the destruction of health,
of reputation, of my slender means,--will reduce to beggary and
starvation my wife and children,--and yet," drinking again, "I know I
shall never leave it off."

"Good heavens!" said I. "Why, you seem as plainly convinced of the
infatuation of your conduct as if miracle had been wrought to convince
you of it.

"I am." he said, unthinkingly; "ten thousand miracles could not make it
plainer; so you may 'spare your breath to cool your porridge,' and
preach to one who is not already in the condemned cell."

I was exceedingly shocked; but I thought within