And such, it may be confidently predicted, will be the end of all Mr. Owen’s visions of paradise, if he should ever be able to do more than draw them on paper, and exhibit them to the imagination; or present them in his pictures, as is customarily done, to the enchanted eyes of his followers. But who can think without sorrow of the evils which result from his principles? and they do produce innumerable evils! Who can contemplate so many immortal creatures, fitted for the highest and the noblest purposes, debasing themselves to a level with the brutes, and making pleasure and sensual gratification the sole end of their being; nay, even stooping to be regarded as mere machines, in order that they may escape from the trammels which they feel that a sense of accountability throws around them! Above all, who can behold unmoved the disregard, and even contempt, with which these persons treat the soul, that immortal principle, which stamps upon man his dignity, which raises him above the brutes, and allies him to the inhabitants of the celestial world, which is the seat of happiness; for the redemption of whom the Son of God became flesh, and expired on Calvary, and for whom, when sanctified, there are mansions of glory provided in heaven? How can men trifle with this precious jewel, and account it of no value, saying, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?” Is it not enough to affect the heart, to draw forth floods of grief, and make us exclaim, “Oh that they knew, even they, in this their day, the things which belong to their peace!” and to add, “Oh that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!” Happy, unspeakably happy should I be, if I might be the means of rescuing and saving any that have been deluded into these errors, from their perilous situation, and their still greater and more awful doom, if they continue in them; nor shall I account it a less privilege to be the humble instrument of preventing any, that are in danger, from falling into these snares. A desire to do good, and, if possible, saving good, to my fellow creatures, is my sole object in taking my pen, and meddling with the subject. Christianity, like an impregnable fortress, has often been assailed; men of gigantic minds have directed their weapons against her, but she has outlived every storm, has hitherto vanquished even her mightiest foes. I think, therefore, her friends need be under no alarm on account of the efforts of Robert Owen to assail or destroy her.