My antagonist is fond of recurring to first principles. When he was engaged, some years ago, in what he now denominates “the easy and pleasant task” {13c} of a somewhat similar controversy with a very different Correspondent, {13d} he constructed for that Gentleman, in a catechetical form, a sort of _Rudimenta Minora_ of Theology, {13e} adapted to what he conceived to be the extent of his religious attainments. Starting from the immortality of the soul, he descended, by stages judiciously graduated, to a humbler and more practical question—the Sunday labours of the Bath Post Office. For me, a somewhat more advanced pupil, he has drawn up a series—indeed two series {14}—of rather less elementary propositions, ending with this revolting (though certainly unquestionable) truism, “That it is better for sixty thousand letters to be burned, unopened, than for one Post Office Clerk to perish in hell for ever.” Now, if I might be permitted to assume for a moment an office which my opponent appears to regard as peculiarly his own, that of a theological preceptor of adults, I would start, like him, from some elementary axiom, such as the authority of Revelation, or the Inspiration of the Bible, and, leading him, by an easy train of reasoning, through a few brief truisms on the properties of Christian charity, I should not despair of gaining his acquiescence at last in this singularly startling paradox, That it is the duty of every Christian to believe his neighbour’s word until it is proved to be false, and to put upon his conduct, not the least but the most favourable construction of which it is reasonably capable. Tried by this test, the personalities of this question would be scattered to the winds. It might remain to be considered, whether in the measure of the Government there had been anything of mistake or miscalculation; whether their hopes had been too sanguine, or their assertions too positive; but for imputations of malignant design, of intentional deception, no place whatever could have been found. When the opponents of a measure turn aside from the consideration of its inherent merits, to that of the secret motives and intentions of its author, the attempt injures their cause far more than the success of the attempt could aid it. No man would resort to such an argument, till all else had been exhausted. And if unhappily such outrages upon common honour and morality be excused, as here, by the plea of zeal for religion, it is well if the cause of religion itself do not suffer by its association with practices so unworthy.