"It seems that Hume received a religious education from his mother, and early in life was the subject of strong and hopeful religious impressions; but, as he approached manhood, they were effaced, and confirmed infidelity succeeded. Maternal partiality, however alarmed at first, came at length to look with less and less pain upon this declension, and filial love and reverence seem to have been absorbed in the pride of philosophical scepticism; for Hume now applied himself with unwearied, and unhappily with successful efforts, to sap the foundation of his mother's faith. Having succeeded in this dreadful work, he went abroad into foreign countries; and as he was returning, an express met him in London, with a letter from his mother, informing him that she was in a deep decline, and could not long survive: she said, she found herself without any support in her distress; that he had taken away that source of comfort, upon which, in all cases of affliction, she used to rely, and that now she found her mind sinking into despair. She did not doubt but her son would afford her some substitute for her religion; and she conjured him to hasten to her, or at least to send her a letter, containing such consolations as philosophy can afford to a dying mortal. Hume was overwhelmed with anguish on receiving this letter, and hastened to Scotland, travelling day and night; but before he arrived his mother expired. No permanent impression seems, however, to have been made on his mind by this most trying event; and whatever remorse he might have felt at the moment, he soon relapsed into his wonted obduracy of heart." This story, probably told after dinner, and invented on the spot,--the American narrator's unfortunate name perhaps rendering him peculiarly liable to the machinations of the mischievous,--is totally at variance with Hume's character. He was no propagandist; and, indeed, seems ever to have felt, that a firm faith in Christianity, unshaken by any doubts, was an invaluable privilege, of which it would be as much more cruel to deprive a fellow-creature than to rob him of his purse, as the one possession is more valuable than the other. Hence we shall find, that his conversation was acceptable to women and to clergymen, who never feared in his presence to encounter any sentiment that might shock their feelings; and what is more to the point, parents were never afraid of trusting their children to his care and social attentions, and indeed thought it a high privilege to obtain them. The appearance of the above passage in a notice of "Silliman's Travels" in _The Quarterly Review_, called forth a remonstrance from Baron Hume, which elicited the following statement from the editor:--[293:1]