so intimately connected with his, that I could not endure that there should be any religion for me on the earth, that any pious sentiments should ever arise in my heart. I had indeed my heroes of the former world, the Grecian antiquity, the high-minded Romans, in whose patriotism I glowed in dreams, the boundless fields of poetry with its gardens of wit and humour; and out of Sophocles and Eschylus, those dreamers of a world of spirits not understood, these seemed to me the most sublime objects that could ever have the power to shake my soul. In a short time I was honestly and truly ashamed of being a Christian, when I thought of the variegated world of fiction, of the ambiguous Grecian mythology, of those feasts and spectacles, lofty statues, and noble temples: Where then were the deliverer on the ignominious cross, and his impoverished disciples? how this faith of poverty and misfortune dwindled into nothing compared with those sacrifices and public parade, and the jubilee of the Pindaric hymns? neither did I reckon myself among the community, and the dullest day of my young, life, was that on which I was received into the church of our sect with the customary ceremonies. Each word seemed nonsense to me, all solemnity degradation, in anger only I responded to the questions, and while still in the church, I swore never again to visit it: A contradictory and foolish oath, which, however, I long observed. At a later period, when I reentered into the world, I remarked that all, who were called strong-minded, were either privately or publicly of my belief. All did not openly mock; the weak disapproved of this outrage, but only from the feeling of not making weak men err, or become unhappy, who though had nothing better themselves, or were not able to produce any thing but the old, miserable tale, that, without a connexion, one often contradicts the other. Many forcibly denied altogether the history of the Saviour, with others still worse, he was merely an unfortunate rebel, and to the best, a moral man, but who indeed, according to their views must be far inferior to Socrates, whose life was clearer, and whose doctrines seemed more comprehensible. Several of these free-thinkers, to whom the catholic church was a stumbling block, and who, that they might not be considered as antichristians, turned all the strength of their mind, under pretext of protecting the protestant freedom, to tear to atoms and to disfigure their catholic brethren, the history of the church, spiritual and temporal ordinances, in the most barbarous manner: thus behind this rampart, they imagined under false names, to be able to annihilate Christianity itself, for this it was which was hateful to them, not this, or that party. All this was very evident to me, and I lent my aid as much as my limited power would permit. I arrived at the age of maturity, and my opinions only became still more deeply rooted. I travelled, I saw the world, but only on the side, which confirmed my