In the early portion of my imprisonment in Gloucester Gaol, the Rev. Samuel Jones, in order to move me by fear to the retraction of my convictions, told me before a class of prisoners that ‘the notorious Richard Carlile was dead, and had died horribly; but he had made what amends he could by recanting his dreadful principles on his death-bed—had denounced his infidel colleagues, and implored mercy of God. You see, therefore,’ added the Rev. libeller to me, ‘what you have to look forward to.’ Great, however, was the Rev. Mr. Jones’ astonishment and confusion, when a short time after, Mr. Carlile himself walked into my cell, alive and well, to offer me his generous sympathy and advice to enable me the better to combat the old enemies of free thought and free speech. The usual stories told of infidel recantations are about as well founded as was this fabrication concerning Carlile, by the Rev. Samuel Jones, visiting magistrate of Gloucester Gaol. But _why_ should Carlile recant! Why should the unbeliever fear to die! There are four things on which Christians hang the terrors which usually haunt their death-beds. Let us examine them. 1. The story of the Fall. 2. The rejection of the offer of salvation. 3. The sin of unbelief. 4. The vengeance of God. 1. If man fell in the garden of Eden—who placed him there! God! Who placed the temptation there? God! Who gave him an imperfect nature—a nature of which it was foreknown it would fall! God! To what does this amount! If a parent placed his poor child near a fire at which he knew it would be burnt to death, or near a well into which he knew it would fall and be drowned, would any power of custom prevent our giving speech to the indignation of the heart, and pronouncing such a parent a miscreant! And can we pretend to believe God has so acted, and at the same time be able _to trust_ him! If God has so acted, he may so act again. This creed can afford no consolation in death. If he who disbelieves this dogma fears to die, he who believes it should fear death more. 2. Salvation, it is said, is offered to the fallen. But man is not fallen, except on the revolting hypothesis just discussed. And before man can be accepted by God, he must, according to Christians, own himself a degraded sinner. Is salvation worth this humiliation! But man is not degraded. No man can be degraded by the act of another. Dishonour can come only by his own hands: and depravity has not come thus. Man, therefore, needs not this salvation. And, if he needed it, he could not accept it. Debarred from purchasing it himself, he must accept it as an act of grace. But it is not well to go even to heaven on sufferance. We despise the poet who is not above a patron; we despise the citizen who crawls before the throne; and shall God be said to have less love of self-respect than man! He who will consent to be saved after this fashion hath most need to fear that he shall perish, for he deserves it.