dence afforded by testimony in favor of miracles, and that furnished by our invariable experience as individuals against them, and see which scale ought to preponderate.

First, then, we have in favor of the miracles recorded in the gospel, the following corroborated and accumulated evidence. They are proved by a competent number of credible witnesses, apostles and evangelists, who sustained through life characters for the most consummate purity and unimpeachable integrity. These witnesses, in confirmation of their reports, bore attestation to facts so simple and intelligible that they could not have been deceived about them; they, in consequence of their adoption of the system of theology founded upon these facts, changed all their former opinions, discarded the inveterate prejudices of education, entered upon new habits of life, and subjected themselves to the control of a novel and more rigorous discipline. Nor is this the sum of the whole argument. These witnesses, besides embracing a new faith from conviction of mind, evinced the sincerity of their belief by encountering all kinds of labors, privations, sufferings, humiliations, persecutions, and at last the most horrid deaths. And to complete the proof afforded us of the truth of their testimony, not one among them ever recanted his new opinions, but, adhering to the declaration of them even amidst the pains of martyrdom, not only did they all incontestibly demonstrate their own sincerity, but had the happiness to carry conviction to the minds of their contemporaries, demolished the venerable structure of the Jewish hierarchy, and bore the banners of the cross over the ruins of that pagan idolatry and superstition which had been receiving strength from immemorial antiquity, and had gradually incorporated itself into the mighty trunk of the Roman Empire, which at that time extended its limbs, and maintained its uncontrollable masterdom over the known world. Place the evidence thus furnished in proof of miracles by the side of your story of the Salem witches, and let me hope that you will blush with ingenuous shame for having ventured upon the comparison.

Having displayed that corroborated testimony which amounts to the highest degree of moral certainty, let us now endeavor to ascertain the exact weight of that evidence which is to be thrown into the scales against it. This is drawn from our uniform and invariable experience of the laws of nature. No philosopher will deny that this consideration presents a great difficulty in the case of miracles, which presuppose violations of those established laws, and all intelligent men acknowledge that more than ordinary evidence is requisite to render them credible. In this argument, I do not presume that my antagonist has run into the extremity of Spinoza, denying the possibility of miracles because the order of nature is immutable, but that, supposing miracles to be achievable by omnipotence, he maintains we can never have sufficient evidence from human testimony that they have been performed. Under this aspect, let us nicely scrutinize the subject. You and I have had invariable experience that water cannot by the word of man be converted into wine; that the winds and sea do not submit to his order; that he cannot instantaneously heal incurable maladies; nor, above all, raise a dead body in which putrefaction has commenced. This knowledge of the laws of nature would lead us justly to treat with contempt and ridicule the pretensions of such persons as Matthias the impostor, and his stupid followers. This course is reasonable, and sanctioned by every man of sense. But how far should we extend our sceptism and incredulity in such matters? To determine this point, we must ask ourselves, what is the degree of evidence which we derive from the course of nature, tending to show that this order admits of no alterations? It is clear that, in regard to the constitution and laws of nature, we can neither attain to intuitive or demonstrative certainty. If we could do this, the affair would be summarily settled, and no room left for doubt. We should then be as sure that a dead man could or could not be raised, as that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. But Science allows that she is in possession of no proofs which will enable her to decide this point, or even that the sun will rise to-morrow, or the tides will flow in our rivers. The inhabitants of Lisbon, a moment before the earth opened and swallowed them, were as certain of their safety as they had been

for centuries, and yet their knowledge of nature deceived them. But you will say, that these events arise out of the operation of natural causes, and come within the compass of established laws. And who can show you that the coming of the Son of Man, and the miracles he performed, may not by the Almighty have been incorporated into the frame of nature?!

Again: You and I have from experience discovered the uniform course of nature, and justly conclude that, as it now subsists, its laws are never violated; but we never had any observation of them as they were displayed in the times of the apostles, when the whole moral world was in a state of degeneracy and corruption, and stood in need of great reformation. The King of Siam was no philosopher, and reasoned without his host, when he concluded, from the phenomena exhibited in his tropical climate, that the Dutch ambassador falsified, when he alleged that in Europe water was converted into a solid substance by the action of cold.

Farther: You will perceive from what has been alleged, that all the evidence we can derive from the course of nature, amounts only to strong probability, and what we may denominate natural or mechanical proof, which is a degree of certainty, very remote from demonstration. This, then, is the certainty of which you speak as resting upon invariable experience, and which, if you repose too unbounded trust in it, you may find oftentimes very treacherous, and a fixture from which your foot may slip. To this we oppose the very highest degree of moral certainty, based upon apostolic testimony, and as our experience cannot properly be said to extend to nature as it appeared in their day, we cannot but conclude that the proof of the facts which they relate is satisfactory. M. Hume endeavors to propound an infallible standard by which, in all cases, we may test the credibility of a miracle. He says we should not believe a miracle, unless it would be as great a violation of the order of nature that the testimony which sustains it should be false, as that the fact reported should be true. If we could penetrate into the thin and impalpable structure of moral nature, and ascertain precisely the established laws that regulate it, I am not sure that we need object to this maxim. I am inclined to think that it would be as signal a violation of the established laws of moral nature, that the testimony furnished by the evangelists and apostles should be false, as it would be of the order of physical nature, that all the miracles they have related should be true. You will remark, then, in conclusion, that in the case of miracles, the balance of evidence lies between different degrees of probability - that probability which in both its kinds ordinarily amounts to perfect certainty, but when they come in collision, the one or the other must preponderate, according to its superior force of evidence arising out of the nature and circumstances of the facts. Suppose you and I should hear that the city of Philadelphia had been swallowed by an earthquake. Such report would appear to us very improbable from our past experience, and our knowledge of its situation, soil, and every circumstance which can secure it against disasters of this nature; and yet should we doubt the fact, if related by credible witnesses? But you will say that earthquakes are common in some parts of the earth, and the agents which produce them are known to exist in nature. True; but they are violations of those uniform laws of nature, with which we have become familiar, and which preserve matter in just equipoise, and prevent violent convulsions; and as to the observation that the agents which produce them are known to subsist, the same is the case in reference to miracles, as the omnipotence of God is always exerted, and all that we have to demonstrate is, that in a specific case, this power has been exercised. I am aware, that there is a difference in the cases, and that the one presumes an action contrary to the laws of nature, and the other in conformity to them; but, inasmuch as it cannot be denied that in both cases a cause adequate to produce the effect subsists in the system, I cannot conceive why we should so readily allow the one, and pertinaciously refuse assent to the other, when it is proved by adequate testimony. The great difficulty in these matters arises out of the uncongeniality or want of homogeneousness in the kinds of evidence that which depends upon testimony, and that which depends upon experience. They cannot be reduced to a com

mon measure, and therefore can never have their relative value precisely determined. This is an evil inherent in the very essence of the thing; and perhaps the Creator may intend that christianity should be offered to us in this shape, dealing with us as moral agents, whose assent to its doctrines is not coerced by mathematical demonstration, but left to the free and unconstrained exercise of our intellectual and moral powers. This, too, is the condition in which a large proportion of moral and natural truth is left by the great disposer of all things. Why should we, who cannot strictly demonstrate that the sun will rise to-morrow, the tides will flow, or the earth continue in its orbit, expect to obtain mathematical certainty of the truths of Christianity, or of the evidence by which she is sustained? We enjoy all the proofs which the nature of the case admits; and if we are dissatisfied with these, upon a nice scrutiny of our hearts and minds, we shall invariably discover, that our incredulity has not so much arisen from the exercise of our intellectual faculties, as from some deficiency in the state of our moral feelings.

Hoping that, by these reflections and this train of reasoning, if I have not been so fortunate as to remove all your doubts, and silence all your objections which relate to this fundamental point in the system of christianity, I have at least awakened you to a more serious examination of its claims, and subdued some of those prejudices which might close your mind against the light of its evidences, and restrain you from an entrance into its sacred pale, I bid you a respectful and well-wishing adieu.

FREDERICK BEASLEY.

THE DRAMA.

PARK THEATRE. MRS. and MR. KEELEY. - During a highly successful engagement of Mr. and Mrs. KEELEY at the Park, the public have had an opportunity of judging correctly of their merits, and we are happy to state that they have freely testified their approbation. Mrs. Keeley is an actress unlike any that we ever remember to have seen on the Park boards. The late Mrs. CHAPMAN came nearest to her in style ; and in justice to this favorite actress, we must say, that in one or two things she quite equalled the English artiste. Mrs. Keeley's principal forte seems to lie in the portraying of those characters which come within the range of what is called the domestic drama --a style of composition not so lofty as tragedy, and less serious than the modern melo-drama. In farce, Mrs. Keeley is the gayest of the gay, and quite French in her style, without any of that stiffness which sometimes makes the liveliest farces the most solemn of dramatic representations. Mr. KEELEY is decidedly an 'odd one.' His person is almost as grotesque as REEVE's, and his manner altogether peculiar to himself. In certain characters of farce he is irresistible. His 'Peter Spyk,' in the 'Loan of a Lover,' we would instance as among the best of his personations. Mrs. Keeley's claims as a singer are as great as her merits in farce. In truth, by many her songs are considered the gems of her performance. Her voice is naturally sweet, but of a limited compass, with a highly cultivated style, and always in good taste. In short, without entering into a laborious critique of performers, whose merits are so palpable as are those of Mrs. and Mr. Keeley (place aux dames!) we congratulate the American public on the sterling acquisition which they are receiving to their theatrical enjoyment in the visit of these artists to this country.

MR. DENVIL. This gentleman is from the 'Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,' and has appeared at the Park Theatre in the parts of 'Shylock,' 'Richard,' and 'Manfred,' of the last of which we intend to speak anon. The English critics—one of them at least has said much for Mr. Denvil's personation of 'Shylock,' which is so singularly at variance with the general opinion of those who have witnessed that 'identification' here, that, in justice to Mr. Denvil, we cannot refrain from transcribing it:

DRURY-LANE. - Mr. Denvil made his first metropolitan appearance here last night, and his maiden effort was the arduous one of delineating Shylock. There is a boldness deserving encou

ragement in the very attempt, on the stage so lately trodden by the greatest actor that the British people has seen, or probably will see, in this character. But the performance of last night was not alone in this respect deserving, as in many points it was admirably portrayed, evidently from the study of one possessing the necessary accomplishments for sustaining a high walk in the tragie drama. It would be nonsense to talk of comparing the debutant with Kean, of whom, however, we must say that he occasionally reminded his audience. His figure is good, his person genteel, and his features, particularly that which most indicates intelligence, the eye, pleasing. His voice is well modulated, and there are parts in which we expect to find him make a fame. Shylock has not much to do, but it is nearly all a series of whirlwind emotions, affording ample space and verge enough for all the peculiarities and powers of an actor, Some of Mr. Denvil's passages were well delivered, and were equally well received by the audience. He was energetic, a tendency to overdo in that direction being the only fault we have to find with him. He certainly is a little too young; but that must not be attributed as a fault, or, if it be, it is oue which every day will contribute to remove; we mention it merely because it prevented his looking the Jew as one fancies him to have been.'

Of Mr. Denvil's 'boldness,' in attempting to play the character of 'Shylock' on any stage, and most especially on the boards which the great Kean had just trodden, we think there can be but one opinion, and in this therefore we entirely coincide with the English critic; but that there was any thing especially deserving' in this daring feat, unless accomplished in a manner more nearly bordering upon decent respectability than the representation with which we have been favored, we take upon ourselves the 'boldness' to deny. The performance of 'Shylock' here was not as at Drury Lane 'in many points admirably portrayed:' au contraire, there was not a 'point' that was not rendered pointless by the absurd rantings of this great original. We again agree with the Englishman, when he says that 'it would be nonsense to talk of comparing Mr. Denville with Kean.' Here there is no cause for cavil. The remark is honest, and exceedingly just as one would say, it is 'nonsense' to talk of comparing a rush-light with the mid-day sun.' His figure is not 'good ;' it is round and shapeless — his person we consider included in his figure- and for his 'eye,' it is so swallowed up by his cheeks, that if there is 'intelligence' there, his eyebrows are the gainers by it. His voice is a thin squeak, 'modulated' to a coarse growl, upon neither of which beautiful peculiarities should we, as Mr. Denvil's friend, advise him to found his hopes of 'fame.' Shylock has more 'to do' than Mr. Denvil, we fear, can ever hope to accomplish; and as for his 'whirlwind emotions,' they did not raise dust enough to blind the eyes of Mr. Denvil's audience to his many glaring imperfections. We should have noticed his 'Shylock' less minutely, if he had made less pretensions; but adopting the philosophy of 'Jacques,' he has evidently determined, 'that a man need never want gold in his pocket, who has plenty of brass in his face.' This may be good logic off the stage, but on, it is seldom verified. But the greatest of all abominations, is the representation of Byron's 'Manfred' on the stage by Mr. Denvil! Manfred and Mr. Denvil! A moonbeam shining through a plum-pudding! Oh the absurdity of vanity! The idea of representing a creation so purely intellectual as Manfred- Lord Byron's Manfredthe most spiritual of all that lofty poet's most spirital imaginings- upon the dry boards of a theatre- through the medium of such a mass of material dulness as makes up the mental and corporeal being of Mr. Denvil is one of those gross absurdities, which nothing but the arogance of bloated vanity would dare to practice. The whole affair is a gross libel upon all things ethereal - an insult to the memory of the poet, and to the audience who witness the desecration - and as such, may the waters of Lethe roll over it!

C.

NATIONAL THEATRE. This new establishment has speedily won its way to popularity. Its audiences, for the most part, during the month, have been nightly regaled with the new opera of The Maid of Cashmere' - the principal characters by CELESTE, Miss WATSON, PLUMER, and MORLEY. We have not found leisure to witness its representation, but the reports of the press, and the 'run' which it has enjoyed, are good evidences of its attractions.

AMERICAN THEATRE, BOWERY. -This establishment is being rebuilt under the direction of Mr. DINNEFORD, who will be associated with Mr. HAMBLIN in the lesseeship and management. This last named gentleman takes a 'Farewell and Complimentary Benefit,' previous to his present departure for Europe to enlist recruits for the new establishment. It should be a 'benefit' indeed, for no one deserves it more than the beneficiary, whose hand on all occasions has been 'open as the day to melting charity.'

THE FINE ARTS.

COLE'S PICTURES OF THE COURSE OF EMPIRE.' The great merits of this series of pictures-five in number - - are doubtless known to a great portion of our NewYork readers. The conception of the artist is a bold and poetical one, involving in its Mr. COLE execution genius, or the power of original creation, of the highest order. has fully succeeded in embodying a succession of scenes, which not only stamp him as an artist of the first grade, but as a poet in whom 'the divinity' is an ever-present prompter. We had contemplated an extended notice of this admirable performance; but we find one so well executed to our hand, in the printed description of the artist himself, that we annex it, as far more graphic and intelligible than any thing which we could offer :

No.1., which may be called the 'Savage State,' or 'the Commencement of Empire,' represents a The sun is rising from the sea, and wild scene of rocks, mountains, woods, and a bay of the ocean. the stormy clouds of night are dissipating before his rays. On the farthest side of the bay rises a precipitous hill, crowned by a singular isolated rock, which, to the mariner, would ever be a striking land-mark. As the same locality is represented in each picture of the series, this rock identifies it, although the observer's situation varies in the several pictures. The chase being the most characteristic occupation of savage life, in the fore-ground we see a man attired in skins, in pursuit of a deer, On the rocks in the middle ground which, stricken by his arrow, is bounding down a water-course.

are to be seen savages, with dogs, in pursuit of deer. On the water below may be seen several canoes, and on the promontory beyond, are several buts, and a number of figures dancing round a fire. In this picture, we have the first rudiments of society. Men are banded together for mutual aid in the chase, etc. The useful arts have commenced in the construction of canoes, huts, and weapons. Two of the fine arts, music and poetry, have their germs, as we may suppose, in the singing which usually accompanies the dance of savages. The empire is asserted, although to a limited degree, over sea, land, and the animal kingdom. The season represented is Spring.

No. 2. The Simple or Arcadian State, represents the scene after ages have passed. The gradual The untracked and rude' has been advancement of society has wrought a change in its aspect. tamed and softened. Shepherds are tending their flocks; the ploughman, with his oxen, is upturning the soil, and Commerce begins to stretch her wings. A village is growing by the shore, and on the summit of a hill a rude temple has been erected, from which the smoke of sacrifice is now ascending. In the fore-ground, on the left, is seated an old man, who, by describing lines in the sand, seems to have made some geometrical discovery. On the right of the picture, is a female with a distaff, On the stone is a boy, who appears to be making a drawing of about to cross a rude stone bridge. Uuder the trees, beyond the a man with a sword, and ascending the road, a soldier is partly seen. female figure, may be seen a group of peasants; some are dancing, while one plays on a pipe. In this In the old man who describes the mathemapicture, we have agriculture, commerce, and religion.

tical figure in the rude attempt of the boy in drawing- in the female figure with the distaff — in the vessel on the stocks, and in the primitive temple on the hill, it is evident that the useful arts, the fine arts, and the sciences, have made considerable progress. The scene is supposed to be viewed a few hours after sunrise, and in the early Summer.

In the picture No. 3, we suppose other ages have passed, and the rude village has become a magnificent city. The part seen occupies both sides of the bay, which the observer has now crossed. It has been converted into a capacious harbor, at whose entrance, toward the sea, stand two phari. It is From the water on each hand, piles of architecture ascend - temples, collonades and domes. The cona day of rejoicing. A triumphal procession moves over the bridge near the fore-ground. queror, robed in purple, is mounted in a car drawn by an elephant, and surrounded by captives on foot, and a numerous train of guards, senators, etc.- pictures and golden treasures are carried be fore him. He is about to pass beneath the triumphal arch, while girls strew flowers around. Gay festoons of drapery hang from the clustered columns. Golden trophies glitter above in the sun, and incense rises from silver censors. The harbor is alive with numerous vessels-war galleys, and barks with silken sails. Before the doric temple on the left, the smoke of incense and of the altar rise, and a multitude of white-robed priests stand around on the marble steps. The statue of Minerva, with a victory in her hand, stands above the building of the Caryatides, on a columned pedestal, near which is a band with trumpets, cymbals, etc. On the right, near a bronze fountain, and in the shadow of lofty buildings, is an imperial personage viewing the procession, surrounded by her children, attendants, and guards. In this scene is depicted the summit of human glory. The architecture, the 81

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