When the Laplander, in his cave, hears by chance the distant echo of thunder, he says, that _God still lives on the high mountain_; and, is it in the very bosom of munificent blessings, with the light of philosophy, that men would wish to reject the idea of the existence of a Supreme Being? What an abuse of reason! Infinity ought to overwhelm the most vigorous and enlightened understanding, make the wise man timid in his judgment, and inform him what he is; can man do better than give way to the admiration the view of so many incomprehensible wonders must necessarily inspire, and with fervour seize that chain of miracles which seem to promise to lead to the knowledge of the Creator of them? Can he be more nobly employed, than in tracing an opinion, not only the most probable, but the most grand and interesting? Alas! if we should ever lose it—the idea is not to be endured; clouds and thick darkness would, overwhelm the feelings which seem to dart before our reason, to explore the unknown country we pant after, and a melancholy and eternal silence would appear to surround all nature: we should call for a comforter, implore protection—but where is it to be found? We should search for hope, but it is for ever fled—Alas! this is not all, a terrific thought strikes me, I hesitate a moment to communicate it; yet, it seems to me, that we lend new force to religious opinions, when we demonstrate, by various ways, that the principles which destroy those opinions lead to a result contrary to our nature. I will then conclude this chapter by a reflection of serious importance.