pure deism was the only thing that could possibly revive the delightful scenes of the golden age, and render the whole human race a band of brothers, united by the ties of rational freedom. For what was so beautiful, so true, and so clear, as virtue and benevolence, if fairly represented, if divested of the disguise of black superstition? The necessity, therefore, of Revelation, or superstition, which were to me synonymous terms, seemed to my mind a positive falsehood, a popular error, sanctified by time, and founded on ignorance, by selfishness; but which, thanks to the aid of reason, the only true prophet, the only real revelation from heaven, was now vanishing apace, and would, as I trusted, be wholly abolished in a very short time. This blessed and glorious period I anticipated in my imagination, with all the ardour of a Voltaire, many of whose pieces I had devoured.

I thus became persuaded, that the depravity of mankind proceeded chiefly from the abuses of religion; which at the best, or in those who did believe it, I regarded as a little good mixed with a great mass of evil, and a clumsy substitute for the beauty and purity of virtue. I conceived that the evil was then come to its greatest height, but that the vulgar were too gross and ignorant to perceive the true cause, which it was reserved for such philosophers as the above men

tioned and myself to discover, and also to display, as I hoped, for the good of mankind.

Here I paused, and, from the summit of this mountain of pride, looked down with pity, mixed with self-complacency, on the world below. I resembled the star-gazer, who fell into a pit, while busily employed in settling the affairs of the heavens, and wholly inattentive to his own paths.

As I made no other use of the gifts of God (that is to say, my speculative love of virtue and benevolence, which doubtless were intended to lead me to the truth of Christ) than to turn them into idols, and then into devils, which I worshipped; and made him no other return than to apostatize, and blaspheme his name and word, and join myself to his enemies; so, he at last (I suppose) gave me up to my own heart's lusts, and to the temporary dominion of those cvil spirits, whom I chose for my gods, and exalted above his word in my heart and mind.

I must here forbear to relate a singularly vile, insane, impious and scandalous frolic, which I committed in a Portugueze Church, full of images of saints, which had been converted into a magazine for military stores, during the siege of Basseen, near Bombay. But why should I say one? I must omit many, in which were combined almost every degree and kind of blasphemy, sacrilege, indecency, and reprobracy!

I had indeed soon ample cause to repent most bitterly (had my eyes been opened) of these most grievous insults, which I had so publicly offered to every law, whether of religion, morality, or decency. From that time forward, I became more rapidly and desperately vicious, gross, sensual, and almost devilish; for though my bodily powers were exhausted by abuse, yet my imagination was still active, and ran through all the chambers of imagery-—!!!

At length my dreams became so unspeakably dreadful, that I sprang out of bed, and from downright terror attempted (for the first time during several years, I believe) to pray for protection: but yet the blindness and hardness of my heart were so great, that, like Pharaoh, I still refused to believe (in spite of all the plagues with which the divine justice and mercy permitted me to be infested) that the old wives tales, as I had been accustomed to think and call them, respecting hell and the devil were true. At the same time I was burning in the fires of hell, and possessed and tormented by a legion of evil spirits.

In vain I called my former speculative love of glory, honour, and romantic virtue, to my aid. These vain idols were gone; they were weak as water, they were distant as the stars, they were as chaff carried away by the wind. Yet I sometimes thought more justly; and then it was clear

to me, in spite of Satan's philosophy, that virtue and vice were not mere modes and fashions, invented by men, to suit different climates, and various prejudices; but that they were eternally opposite principles, placed by a divine hand, together with happiness and misery in their train, within our view, and according to the choice of our hearts within our reach. Yet this being the case, as I felt it was from experience, I admired for what end it was ordained, that we poor miserable worms (for I no longer esteemed myself a hero or demigod) should be formed thus capable of becoming vicious, and, consequently, miserable! Why not make us absolutely and unalterably good? How could I help my corruptions? Did I at all foresee them when I began my career of sensual pleasure, closed, alas in torments?

Such were my vain and erroneous reasonings, and such was the living death in which I dragged on a miserable hateful existence, when the Lord of mercy beheld me with undeserved compassion, and raised up a judge and preparatory deliverer for me, who, though unable immediately to break my chain, did yet make it so intolerable, so like red hot iron, that my soul was completely roused to combat and resist, to the utmost of her power, the increasing horrors of spiritual death which were gathering fast around her. This stern judge, and in some de

gree deliverer, by making me strive to be delivered, was the scorpion conscience, whose burning sting gave double force to my torments.

From such misery as I experienced, I could find no remedy, but death in some form; and as, in spite of my supposed philosophy, I was still too much of a coward in infidelity, to venture to commit an action, which seemed so final and irretrievable as suicide, I therefore resolved from that day to contend with double diligence and perseverance against my corruptions, and rather to die a thousand times in any other way, or by inches through my incessant and cruel torments, than ever again admit, or entertain for a moment, imaginations which I found, by terrible experience, to be so dangerous, so subtle, so penetrating, and so difficult to be effaced from the memory.

In consequence of this incessant and fiery warfare within me, my existence was become a dream of horror, a dreadful burden, a curse as it were full of bitterness and wrath. When alone I was absorbed in anguish the most intolerable. Every sentiment of my heart was converted into a scorpion, all which, by turns, pierced me with pangs that cannot be described.

How infinitely merciful were all these chastisements! Had they not been inflicted, and in such an exquisite manner and degree, I should certainly have been lost for ever. But