and forwards for your entertainment. May the effect prove equally salutary!

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THOMAS AND TIMOTHY ON

PHILOSOPHICAL SCEPTICISM.

TIM. Whither away so fast, man? Where art going this morning?

TOм. I am going to be made a Christian.

TIM. The very last thing I should have dreamed of. But, pray, who is to make you one?

TOм. David Hume.

TIM. David Hume? Why, I thought he was an Atheist. TOм. The world never was more mistaken about any one man than about David Hume. He was deemed a sworn foe to Christianity, whereas his whole life was spent in its service. His works compose altogether a complete Præparatio Evangelica. They lead men gently and gradually, as it were, to the gospel.

TIM. As how, Tom? Be pleased to take me along with you. TOм. Why look you, here is chapter and verse for you. "Dialogues concerning Natural Religion," p. 263, "To be a philosophical sceptic is, in a man of letters, the first and most essential step towards being a sound, believing Christian."

TIM. When David was at Paris, I have heard, the wits there should say, he was a very worthy gentleman, but had his religious prejudices like other people. As folks are quickscented in that country, perhaps they smelled a rat. Indeed, in a "Supplement to the Life of Mr H.," we are told that a brother of his used to observe of him, "My brother Davie is a good enough sort of a man, but rather narrow-minded.". Well, I cannot tell what to say to it; there are abundance of pretty fancies stirring. I be different ways of there suppose may becoming a Christian. A man of letters enters, belike, at the back door, and so goes round the house to come at it; a com

pass which we plain folk do not think it necessary to take. One thing is certain, that if scepticism be the road to Christianity, Mr H. is a very proper person to keep the turnpike gate upon it. But what progress must one make, if one had a mind to try the experiment, in this same philosophical scepticism, before one could become a good, sound, believing Christian? Must one doubt of everything?

TOм. Of everything, in this world and that which is to come, as I myself do at this present speaking. It is the most agreeable process in life; a charming, delightful suspense of judgment. I doubt whether there be any such thing as matter; I doubt likewise whether there be any such thing as spirit; that is, I doubt whether there be creature or Creator, and whether I myself am anything more than a bundle of perceptions, without either body or soul. We modern philosophers, you must know, consider matter and spirit as so much lumber which should be cleared out of the way. There would then be a noble field open for speculation, and we might all set out afresh. I doubt whether the world (supposing for a moment that there be one) did not exist from eternity, or whether it did not make itself; whether it be not a huge animal, somewhat like an ostrich, which lays now and then an egg to be hatched into a young world; or whether it be not an overgrown vegetable run to seed. "As a tree sheds its seed into the neighbouring fields and produces other trees, so the great vegetable the world, or this planetary system, produces perhaps within itself certain seeds, which, being scattered into the surrounding chaos, vegetate into new worlds. A comet, for instance, is the seed of a world; and after it has been fully ripened, by passing from sun to sun and star to star, is at last tossed into the unformed elements which everywhere surround this universe, and immediately sprouts up into a new system."

TIM. Vastly ingenious! and really, upon the whole, not improbable-But prithee, Tom, if you are not in too great a

PHILOSOPHICAL SCEPTICISM.

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hurry to be made a Christian, do stop for half-an-hour, and instruct me a little further in this New Week's Preparation of Mr H. For the specimen you have given me is so exquisite, that it perfectly makes my mouth to water for more. What is the plan of these famous Dialogues concerning Natural Religion? TOм. You shall have it in few words.-Once upon a time, then, there was a promising young man, whose name was Pamphilus. He was brought up by a philosopher called Cleanthes. Philo, a brother philosopher, came to spend some days with Cleanthes. The dialogues are supposed to contain the substance of a conversation which passed between these personages, by way, among other things, of preparing young Pamphilus, in a proper manner, for the reception of the Gospel, by first making him a thorough sceptic. Pamphilus, who, as a hearer only, was to learn and be wise, relates this conversation in a letter to his friend Hermippus. There is a third speaker in the dialogues, styled Demea, one of your oldfashioned orthodox gentry, who firmly believes the existence of a Deity, and is rather disposed to speak well than ill of his Maker. But the two philosophers so astonish and discompose him, draw him into so many ambuscades, and raise so thick a metaphysical dust around him, that at the close of the eleventh dialogue, the old gentleman is glad to take a French leave, and vanishes so very suddenly, that whether he went out at the door, or the window, or up the chimney, nobody knows to this hour. It would do your heart good to see the fun they make with him.

TIM. Before you go any further, let me just ask you one question. Pray do you act upon this principle of philosophical scepticism in common life?

Tом. Oh, by no means. If we did, we should walk into a horse-pond, or run our heads against a wall, and the boys would laugh at us. No, no, "to whatever length any one may push his speculative principles of scepticism, he must act,

and live, and converse like other men; and for this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason, than the absolute necessity he lies under of so doing."

TIM. I think it would be hard upon him if he were obliged to give any other reason; for absolute necessity is an exceeding good one. But what, then, is it you are all about, spending your pains in constructing a system, which you are necessitated to contradict and protest against, every time you go down a ladder, or get over a stile. Surely you ought to be set in a corner, with fools' caps upon your heads, like the misses at a boardingschool. In the name of common sense, what can you mean?

.

TOм. It is an amusement-"If a person carries his speculations further than this necessity. constrains him, and philosophises either on natural or moral subjects, he is allured by a certain pleasure and satisfaction which he finds in employing himself after that manner."

TIM. Suppose he were to play at push-pin, or span-farthing, would it not be more to the purpose? And then he would not disturb his neighbours. But that man's heart must be as wrong as his head, who can "find a certain pleasure and satisfaction" in endeavouring to persuade his fellow-rationals that they are without God in the world. However, if amusement be the word, let us believers have some too. If philosophers will amuse themselves with talking nonsense, they must give us leave to amuse ourselves by laughing at it. On our side of the question it is possible to be merry and wise, as well as to do some little service to the world, by shewing it what stuff these dreams are made of. Come, Tom, you shall represent the genius of philosophical scepticism. And now let us hear some of those strong reasons which induce you to deny the existence of a Deity.

TOM. Bless us! you shock me! I do not mean to deny the being, but only to philosophise a little concerning the nature of God.

THE SELF-BUILT HOUSE.

TIM. Well, then, be it so. Philosophise away.

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TOм. Our reason, Tim, is very weak-very weak, indeed; we are poor, finite, frail, blind creatures. Our knowledge of the things around us is extremely limited and imperfect-we ought to humble ourselves

TIM. There is always mischief in the wind, when a philosopher falleth down and humbleth himself. But what is your inference from all these lowly considerations?

TOм. That it is presumption in such worms of the dust to argue about the nature and attributes of God.

TIM. But you will allow poor reason to exercise herself in her own province, and when she is furnished with premises, to draw a conclusion?

TOм. Ay, ay, there is no harm in that.

TIM. When we see a house calculated to answer various purposes of beauty and convenience, and having in it all the marks of wisdom and design, we know it could not build itself. The senseless materials could never have prepared and arranged themselves in such order. The timber could not dance, cut and squared, out of the forest, nor the marble meet it, hewn and polished, from the quarry. The house, therefore, must have had a builder. We apply the same argument, a fortiori, to the case of the world, and its Maker, God; and Tully, if I remember right, makes no scruple to assert, that he who denies his assent to it does not deserve the name of a man. This is the argument called a posteriori, and lies open to the common sense of all mankind. Now, then, let us try the sincerity of that declaration of yours, that "the question is not concerning the being, but the nature of God." For if you controvert this argument, you certainly mean to shake our belief in the existence of a Deity. You must of course attempt to shew, that the world might have been as it is without one; and if that be the case, you will next defy us to prove that there is one.