You may remember the time when you and Frederick were reading Butler’s Analogy as part of the College course. My dear boy was fond of talking over with me each chapter as he proceeded, and I determined to read that inestimable work anew, for the purpose of refreshing my memory, in conversation with him. One day, employed in this manner, I was sitting alone in my dressing-room, when my brother tapped at the door, saying that you wanted me for a few minutes in the study, and asked whether he might remain till my return, as he also wished to speak with me. On my return, I found him eagerly devouring the chapter on a future state; and so absorbed was he, that at first he did not perceive my entrance into the room. When he did, he started, and said, “Caroline, I have to apologize for taking up your book to see what you were reading, and I find something that has struck me: but I make a discovery that _you_ are fond of these dark themes. Why have you never broached these subjects with me?” “Because,” said I, “that they _are_ both dark and deep, and lie hidden between us and our Creator. The controversies of men are seldom beneficial, and more frequently excite the passions than satisfy the pride of human presumption.” “Do you mean, then, to say,” replied our dear inquirer, “that religion is incapable of proof?” “So far from it,” answered I, “that every object in nature bears proof to demonstration of the great leading tenets of religion; but I mean to say, such is the perverseness of our hearts, that we repel, when offered by another, those arguments which we should be proud to originate ourselves, and refuse conviction, unless our vanity be gratified by taking some credit to itself, at _least_ in the _selection_ of those reasons which operate a change of opinion. For this cause we suffer books to teach, though we deny a friend the delight of converting us from the evil of our ways, and why? Alas! in human weakness we have the answer. The choice of a book is a _free_ act; the continuing to read it is a _free_ act. The advocacy of its doctrines, if they be arrayed with power, talent, and genius, reflects honour on our discrimination, and, to a certain degree, identifies us with the author, who perhaps has vanished from the arena of our paltry rivalry, having been called to his account; or, should he still be alive, is removed from the immediate field of competition. I _know_ these humiliating facts experimentally, for I have doubted, and I have been perverse.” From this moment, every reserve on my brother’s part was at an end. He looked steadfastly in my face, with an expression which seemed to ask, is this indeed the _truth_, and not said to inveigle me into confidence? His own penetration assured him that I practised no deception. He took my hand, and spoke to the following effect: