"Well, then, I will admit, and most readily, that you have fairly silenced my _objection_ against the atonement, on the ground of your inability to explain, or my inability to conceive the _modus_ of its moral operation on the human spirit; but still I hesitate to admit its reality, because I do not feel its absolute necessity, either as a basis of hope or a source of mental ease and satisfaction." "I once, Sir, rejected the atonement as you now do, but when I saw the malignant quality of sin, I could reject it no longer; and you will allow me to say, that if it be a reality, and you finally reject it, you will inevitably perish. Permit me, therefore, to advise you to read the Scriptures attentively, examine the evidences which they adduce of their divine origin, and implore the Father of our spirits to aid the perceptions of your judgment and the tendencies of your will on this important subject of inquiry. If, after this intellectual and moral process has been adopted, you are compelled to disbelieve the Scripture doctrine of the atonement, you will have the show of argument in your favour; but if you reject it without investigation, your folly will be no less apparent, even if it be false, than your guilt will be overwhelming, if it should be true." "We must now," said the stranger, "leave this subject of discussion, and bid adieu to each other; but I will give you my pledge of honour that I will take your advice, and if you will exchange cards with me you shall know the result, though I cannot allow you to imagine that it will afford you any satisfaction." "It may, and I hope it will." The stranger (whose name I perceived, on looking at his card, was Gordon), on taking leave of me, said, "I have been watching yonder cloud some time, and am apprehensive a storm is rising; but I hope we shall be able to escape it." I now hastened towards Fairmount; but, as I had wandered the distance of some miles, I soon found that it would be impossible to reach it without having to encounter the threatening tempest. As I passed through a thick coppice, the birds sat in silence on the branches, or flew with rapidity from one tree to another; the wind blew with a deep and hollow sound; and then for a few seconds ceased its howlings, as if to recover strength to send forth a more dismal groan. On descending the slope which led into the vale, a streak of lightning struck across my path, and the loud roaring thunder, echoing through the valley, produced a universal consternation in its flocks and herds. A sudden darkness came over the whole horizon; the rain came down in torrents; and, having missed my path, I knew not which way to proceed.