I am, however, departing from my purpose; my object, on the present occasion, not being to defend Christianity, but simply to examine Socialism, and to inquire how far the principles of the New Moral World are calculated to effect the object for which they are propagated. I think I have shown that in themselves they want consistency, they are either absurd, or they lead to absurdity, they destroy the sense of the being of a God, and, as the necessary consequence, debase the character of man, making him only a living machine. If the foundation on which they rest were true, they are not necessary, and their consequences are most pernicious: and here I think I might stop, and leave the truth to make its own way; and here I should stop, were it not that by so doing, I should be acting a very unjust and unfaithful part towards the cause of Christ. Then, I do say from conviction, and to use Mr. Owen’s words, “a conviction, as strong as conviction can exist in the human mind;” and not only from conviction, but also an experience, in some humble degree, of the things which I profess to teach to others, that Christianity, not only promises, but actually does, for those who believe it, what Socialism promises, but cannot perform. Mr. Owen pictures before his followers an earthly paradise. He promises them, when his establishment shall be commenced, sights to please the eye, and sounds to enrapture the ear, more than the imagination can now conceive. He tells them that, what with the pleasures of the table, the recreations of music and dancing, and the enjoyments resulting from philosophical and political discussions, and such like things, they shall have a happiness unbroken and complete. But even in his paradise there must be labour, and as each member must necessarily take his or her proportion of the labour, will he, for the future, ensure all that enter against such an unpleasant, and such a mortifying occurrence as took place with the young and handsome woman, who, when she was singing and playing admirably on the pianoforte, was told that milking of cows was her duty! If not, what is the happiness of his paradise worth? “Like the apples of Sodom,” beautiful to the eye, but ashes within. The body may indeed be regaled, but there is no lasting, no solid joy for the mind. And this Mr. Owen’s followers already have found. I appeal to themselves for the truth of what I say; and I have the means of knowing that they will support the truth of my statement. They have not found perfect happiness yet, whatever they may do when they get within the walls of his promised paradise. But if this be the case in health, in vigour of life, and when surrounded by every thing calculated to impart pleasure, what, I ask, will be the state of things when sickness invades the frame, when disease and old age enfeeble and destroy the body, and when death comes and cuts it down? Is there, or has he made, any