which confidence and credit can alone justly be built. Hell-fire, it may be said, is a powerful motive when proved, but a very weak argument when it stands nakedly in place of a proof.

My design shall be to prove, that the Bible does shew this very knowledge of human nature which is denied to it; and that this natural skepticism, in well-regulated minds, is the very thing which makes it meet the wants of man.

In the first place, then, this skepticism is not universal; or, in other words, knowledge is as much an element of human nature as ignorance. To decide in certain cases is as much a law of a well-regulated mind as to doubt in certain cases. The fallacy of the skeptic consists in this: that he concludes from the partial to the universal; we are ignorant of some things, therefore we are ignorant of all. But this is exactly contrary to the spirit of induction, which requires us to bring in all the items which bear on the case. If I were to enter an orchard, in which there were an hundred trees, and, after examining ninety-nine of them, and finding no fruit, were to conclude, without examination, the same of the hundredth, it would be hasty reasoning; for that may be the only fruitful tree. Yet, this is what we are strongly tempted to do. Nay, we stop short of this, and jump to general conclusions, from a very inadequate number of observations. Sometimes, under strong prejudices and passions, the mind will sweep to the most general result from one excepted case. Shakspeare introduces one of his characters, saying-when he found, or thought he found his wife to be unfaithful to him

man.'

So Mrs. Page says, in the Merry Wives of Windsor,' after having heard Falstaff talk morality and tempt her virtue-Well,' she says, 'I will find you twenty lascivious Turks ere one chaste All this is beautiful, considered as picturing our propensity to general conclusions; but it shews how general conclusions, from inadequate premises, mislead us. When Sir Walter Raleigh burnt a part of his history because he was deceived as to a scuffle, which he saw through the window of his prison, he reasoned like a blockhead; and I hope, for his credit's sake, the story is not true. Human life is a compound scene; if there is darkness in which we wander, there is daylight in which we can see; and both these belong to human nature. To confound these distinctions, does not prove that skepticism is necessary, but that the skeptic has made a bad use of his eyes. There is no

universal midnight, Oh thou universal doubter, but in thine own soul !

But, secondly, I will go farther, and say that the darkness illustrates the light; as, without a metaphor, our ignorance proves our knowledge. In order to shew this, let us suppose a case. Suppose some metaphysician should come and endeavor to perplex my notions of perception. He should say it is no proof, because you see a tree, that that tree exists; for there is such a thing as dreaming; and life may be but little else than a protracted dream. This, you know, is the philosophy of the Hindus; and the great Berkley came very near to similar conclusions. Now, what should I say to such a man? I should say to him, Sir, I have dreamed; and my own experience informs, as clearly as I can conceive human information to speak, that a tree seen in a dream is a very different thing from a tree seen when awake. The error reflects light on that knowledge which stands in contrast with the error. If all perceptions were alike; if I had never seen the dream in contrast with the reality; I might suppose that seeing was dreaming. Or, to state the case stronger, (for this comparison hardly comes up to the point) if, when I turn my eyes on vacancy, I discern no tree, and when I turn my eyes to one point in the orchard, or forest, I perceive one, the negative perception strengthens the positive one, and rescues a comparing mind from all the sophistry of the skeptic. When we have completed the catalogue of the objects unknown, by a kind of intellectual subtraction, we find that the remaining objects are known.

The truth is, in the infancy of our reason, the objects of creation lie before us in a kind of magical chaos; and we have not yet had leisure to separate the confusion into its elements. A partial discrimination may lead to a very general skepticism; but, as we proceed to discriminate, we know better when we ought to doubt and when to believe. So that skepticism, on some subjects, is so far from justifying skepticism on all, that it is the very thing that brings the mind to an intelligent conclusion.

Perhaps the best illustration of these remarks might be borrowed from a department deeply connected with religion. It is well known that the genius of skepticism has attempted to pour her shadows over the page of history. There can be no doubt, that there are great uncertainties as to the origin of nations. Invention has supplied the place of investigation; and imagination has spread her colors over the canvass which should have been filled with the images of truth. The first history of Greece is uncertain; the whole story of Pisistratus has been disputed; the imposition of Lycurgus's laws, on the Lacedemonians, appears more like the work of some rhetorician than the wisdom of a real statesman. And the early history of Rome is considered by many as very doubtful. Now, from all this, some hasty minds

would conclude that history is false. So with regard to characters and motives, how little can be known! how much painting is mixed with the best authenticated narratives! I have noticed that some of the most experienced statesmen, who live to a period just after the important events in which they have been active, are extremely apt to represent the history of their own times as uncertain. O, tell not me of history,' said Sir Robert Walpole, for that I know to be false.' The late President Adams considered, in one of his letters to Mr. Niles, of Baltimore, the real cause and character of things in our revolutionary war, as buried in oblivion; and Aaron Burr, according to Mr. Knapp's representation, has made a similar remark. Now, what a strong case! Here are living witnesses, sagacious men, the very agents of the events, who represent history as uncertain. But a little reflection will shew us that even the wisest men, the Walpoles and Adamses, are deceived by their partial views. They stand in the very spot to generate doubt. Truth is the daughter of time; and the agitated water must settle a little before it can become so clear as to allow us to see to the bottom. The first historians are always mistaken; they are not only misled by their prejudices, but they have not the full amount of materials; for history is a hemisphere, where star after star rises to complete the fullness of the sky. I regard the proofs of history like the dead bodies, after some great naval battle; at first, they seem to be buried forever in the secrets of the ocean; but they arise continually, one after another, and it becomes possible almost to count the number and estimate the loss. Besides, the great events of history are as clear as the minuter ones are obscure. There appear to be general laws of probability—a level of evidence, into which all things settle. These laws are just as certain as any other laws of nature; and produce as deep a conviction in the mind of him who knows them.

Skepticism in history has run through the same round it has in most other subjects. There are three states through which the mind commonly passes: first, we begin with a general confidence in all that is told-a blind credulity, often the parent of an equally blind uncertainty: secondly, comes the first period of discrimination, when the vision, knowing some things to be false, begins to doubt of all: then thirdly, follows the period of a more careful discrimination, when the mind, knowing what to receive and what to reject, settles into a rational doubt of some things, and equally rational confidence in others. This is the process of most inquiring minds. It has been the process, too, with regard to public opinion; for public opinion, as well as individuals, has its childhood, its adolescence, and its maturity. There was a time when all writers, in Latin or Greek, were believed; then, almost all were doubted; and now, the current is

manifestly turning-applying severe laws of evidence to the witnesses of time. There can be no question, that the latter state is more clear from the proofs through which it has passed. No doubt that Niebuhr had a deeper conviction of the luminous points of Roman history from the dark spots he had detected, and the skill with which he had discriminated them; and thus our position is true, that a rational doubt leads to a firmer belief. But, in the third place, skepticism—that is, the doubts of minds which doubt because they are discerning; that healthful skepticism, which springs from knowledge, and leads to knowledge's increase must be regarded as the antithesis, not of revelation, but of reason; it is opposed, not to what God has said, but to what man can discover by the legitimate use of his own faculties. I have already remarked, that man is ignorant, and that the wisest men have known this; and, knowing this, they must feel a degree of skepticism. This was the foundation of Socrates' doubts; this made Cicero an academician. But, if this be the origin of skepticism, where does it terminate? Certainly not in weakening the dictates of revelation, but in weakening the conclusions of that human reason which is so often opposed to revelation. Respecting revelation, there are two questions: what proves it a revelation? and next, what does the revelation prove? Now, supposing our faculties competent to answer the first question, notwithstanding their weakness, skepticism is scarcely at all opposed to the second; because a revelation is given, on the supposition that man is too weak, in any other way, to find out its truth. In other words, our distrust, in the fallacy of our own reason, does not touch upon a truth that we know comes from the reason of God. If I could prove that all the lamps in the world shed a feeble and fallacious light, it would be no evidence against the clearness of those beams which come from the sun.

Perhaps, however, it will be asked, will not the alleged feebleness of our powers affect the first question?' Have we power to see the evidence of revelation? Now, be it remarked, that all that is said of the mysteries of religion, the incomprehensibleness of its doctrines, the deep abyss of the divine essence, the whole subject being above reason, &c. does not affect this question in the slightest degree. Religion may be compared to the patriarch's ladder if the height is lost in the clouds, the foot is on the ground. Only once allow that the evidences are on the level of human reason, and you have a succession of rounds to climb up to the other mysteries, which are settled on the authority of God. These two questions ought not to be confounded. The evidences of religion are of three kinds: first, the adaptation of its truths to our wants and consciences; secondly, the prophecies and their fulfillment; and thirdly, the miracles. The first of

these questions is certainly level to our faculties; the word is nigh thee in thy mouth and in thy heart. The two second resolve themselves into the laws of historical probability; and of these, we have already discovered that a sound and passing skepticism only leads to a closer result. Skepticism here means no more than that you should suspend your judgment until you have fully examined the cause.

Of the miracles, perhaps something more might be said. Two questions may be asked concerning the miracles: first, what proves the miracle; and secondly, what does the miracle prove. The whole difficulty in proving Christianity, lies, I apprehend, in the first of these questions; for I cannot think that any skeptic, if he had heard a preacher delivering such precepts as Jesus Christ delivered, would have doubted his divine authority, if he had actually seen him raise Lazarus from the dead. Metaphysical difficulties, perhaps, might be raised to the proof afforded by a miracle; but practically there could be none. It is the first question, then, what proves the miracle? at which modern skepticism labors. I would then say, if there be any certainty in the laws of historical probability—if the human mind be adequate to examine this subjectif impositions sink, and truth generally prevail-if what is false, as South says, is always in danger of being known if supernatural events are not improbable, and, should they happen, are not necessitated to lie wrapt up in eternal darkness, why, then I say that no skepticism, grounded on the inscrutable weakness of the human powers, (and this is the only just ground) need invalidate the proof of a miracle. For history has its laws; and if the mind be adequate to anything, it is adequate to a knowledge of these laws. Or, in other words, the question is not peculiarly mysterious; it lies within the circle of our intellectual vision; and no darkness, which lies out of that circle, can pour the least uncertainty on an object which lies within it.

The truth is, we have more reason to adduce the uncertainties of skepticism to overthrow the philosophy of Newton, than we have to weaken or overthrow any article of Christian faith. For skepticism stands naturally opposed to philosophy, but not to religion. Philosophy is grounded on the free and independent use of the human powers; and skepticism is grounded on the weakness of those powers; and thus, the weakness of an instrument proves its inadequacy to accomplish its objects. But, the weakness of one instrument proves not the weakness of another. Certainly the mind is more competent to see the evidences of religion, than to follow the reasoning of a Newton. Yet, we seldom hear of skepticism as opposed to natural philosophy.

Thus far we have considered the operations of principles in