"As you have so recently left the ranks of infidelity," said Mr. Stevens, "let me ask you--Are infidels in general sincere in the opposition which they make to Christianity?" "They are as sincere as a criminal would be in his efforts to prevent the judge entering the court; but, in general, they have a strong impression that their opposition will be useless." "I see that I have not given my question precisely that form of meaning which I intended. Do you think that they really disbelieve the truth of Christianity?" "We have many in this country, as there are many in all other countries, who are as ignorant of the nature and design of the Christian faith as they are of the science of astronomy or of medicine, and they disbelieve it, if it be proper to say a thing can be disbelieved which is not known; but I do not think that any really disbelieve it who have received a proper religious training. They will, when together, cheer up each others' spirits, and affect contempt for the religion of the Bible; but I have seen a whole company disconcerted by a clap of thunder, and retire, not to enjoy the pleasures of reflection, but, if I may judge from what I have felt, to writhe beneath the agonies of anticipation." "Do you know if your conversion to the Christian faith produced any good effect on any of your former associates?" "I recollect on one occasion, when several of us were spending a Sabbath evening in an hotel, after I had delivered a speech at some length in favour of Deism, and against Christianity, I was so much applauded, that they clapped me, and said, 'Well, Lewellin, _if you ever turn, there must be something in it_.' After I did turn, or rather _after I was turned_, the majority reproached me as a hypocritical fanatic; but one came and congratulated me on having escaped the destructive snare in which he was entangled; but added, 'My doom is irrevocably fixed, and it would be only an aggravation of my misery to indulge a hope of salvation.' Poor fellow! he was hurried on, even against the strong convictions of his judgment, and the reproaches of his conscience, through almost every scene of dissipation, till at length the strong arm of death stopped his progress. As soon as I heard of his illness, I went to see him. I never shall forget the interview. It brought to my recollection my own state of misery, when the terrors of the eternal world, like the vivid lightning, were playing around my distracted spirit. On entering his room, he endeavoured to avoid seeing me, by concealing his face under the bed-clothes. I approached his bedside, and spoke, but he was dumb with silence. I endeavoured to rouse him by the kindest expressions of friendship, and at length he uncovered his horror-struck countenance, and said (as nearly as I can remember), 'I don't doubt your kindness; it is indelibly impressed on my callous heart. But why come to torment me? The _damned_ cannot be _saved_!' 'But,' I added, 'the _chief of sinners_ may.' 'Not