To say that philosophy should be Christian, is very much like saying that truth should be Christian. The philosophy of a genuine Christian will be Christian, we presume, unless he be capable of believing contradictory propositions. Or does the writer mean that that alone is Christian philosophy of which Coleridge has given us a slight specimen, and where the attempt is made to deduce from human reason alone the revealed mysteries of Christianity? What follows is as carelessly penned as it is pointless and vapid. "It is idle to urge that unless we _do this_ anti-Christians will deride us." It would be impossible from the mere rules of grammar to know what it is that anti-Christians would deride us for doing,--whether for going right or wrong. But the illustration, by no means very elegant, which follows, comes to our assistance. As the anti-Christians, are the curs, and the gentleman on horseback the Christian philosopher, and as riding on horseback is certainly a very commendable thing, we discover that it is for going right that the anti-Christians would deride us. The next is an instance how an observation, good in itself, may be run to death. "'I am convinced that jokes are often accidental. A man in the course of conversation throws out a remark at random, and is as much surprised as any of the company, on hearing it, to find it witty.' "For the substance of this observation I am indebted to one of the pleasantest men I ever knew, who was doubtless giving the results of his own experience. _He might have carried his remark some steps further with ease and profit._ It would have done our pride no harm to be reminded, how few of our best and wisest, and even of our newest thoughts, do really and wholly originate in ourselves,--how few of them are voluntary, or at least intentional. Take away all that has been suggested or improved by the hints and remarks of others,--all that has fallen from us accidentally, all that has been struck out by collision, all that has been prompted by a sudden impulse, or has occurred to us when least looking for it--and the remainder, which alone can be claimed as the fruit of our thought and study, will in every man form a small portion of his store, and in most men will be little worth preserving." This is carrying his friend's observation "a little further with ease and profit!" It is carrying it to where it is utterly lost in mere absurdity. "Take away all that has been suggested," &c.--(take away all that we have ever learned)--"take away all that has been prompted," &c.--(take away all excitement to thinking, as well as all materials of thought)--and we should be glad to know what "remainder" can be left at all. The paragraph continues thus--