I am now about to propound a question which I have heard mooted in quiet by many, but for which publicity seems to be dreaded by all—viz., "Is there honesty amongst Christians, and especially amongst the hierarchy of the Churches of England and Rome?"

No one can doubt the importance of the subject; there is not a thoughtful person who does not, in words at least, scorn to build up his everlasting belief upon a fable, and who does not affect to be disgusted with everyone who is deliberately untruthful I speak not now of those time-servers who regard every artifice to be fair in love, war, and theology; but only of those earnest minds who are anxious to seek out and to hold fast that which is true, and who, under all circumstances, resolve to be honest with themselves. That there may be no doubt as to the sense in which I use the word, the following may be regarded as, in my opinion, the synonyms which are properly given in Webster's Dictionary—"Integrity, probity, uprightness, trustiness, faithfulness, honour, justice, equity, fairness, candour, plain dealing, veracity." To this may be added—"not bearing false witness."

Presuming that English scholars agree in this definition, let me now inquire whether "we"—by which term I mean the non-theological class by profession—have a right to expect "honesty" amongst our teachers—be they Roman, Anglican, Hibernian, Scottish, Unitarian, Wesleyan, or of any other body? and, in the next place, whether we get that to which we are entitled? Presuming that it is necessary to begin with the foundation, let us first inquire into "our rights," and whence they are supposed to be derived.

The positions of a learner and a teacher—or a disciple and a master—are, in some cases, different to what they are in others; for example, I need not, unless I think it desirable, learn astronomy, chemistry, the art of telegraphing, or that of ship-building; but if I do elect to learn any of these matters, and engage a man to instruct me, I have a legal claim upon him for his services. There is, indeed, a contract between us—he engaging to teach me, and I agreeing to pay him for his labour. In my selection of a professor, it is quite possible that I have not chosen the best; nay, seeing that I require to be taught, it is nearly certain that I cannot assume the position of a judge as regards the superiority of one teacher over another. But when the agreement is once entered into, each of the parties is bound to perform his part of the contract to the best of his ability. If, for example, I bargain with a master to teach me Spanish, and I, being wholly ignorant thereof, am instructed in Portuguese, I have a definite legal claim for redress.

If, on the other hand, the law, or the custom of the country, compels me to take a certain class of teachers, whether they are competent or worthless, I, as one of the community, am justified in investigating the intellectual power of the professors, individually and collectively, in every way in my power.

At one period, when autocracy, or tyranny, was supreme, this right was denied, and the legislators made it a criminal matter for any one to call in question the nature of the instruction which was given to the people in matters of politics, religion, and other things, wherein the government was concerned. At the present time there are few, if any, states whose ruling powers demand from the people such an abject submission.

But, although a republic may allow unlimited latitude of opinion in matters of political economy, there may be a religious section within it, which consists of those who consent to be led, in matters of faith, by certain individuals, who, on their parts, are declared to be, by some power that the laity are disposed to submit to, the only persons competent to conduct persons to a happy eternity.

Every individual in such a family is associated with the rest by voluntary ties. He may, if he chooses, inquire into the capacity of his guide; he is at perfect liberty to analyse his arguments, to inquire into his allegations, and, speaking generally, to test his truth. If, as a result of the investigation, any one is satisfied that the teacher is incompetent, the two are perfectly clear to make new engagements. There has been no definite contract, nor can there be any legal claim for a presumed breach thereof.

When, on the other hand, there is a State Religion, supported by Parliamentary authority, and to which, in one way or another, the majority of the people must subscribe, each man has as perfect a right to see that he gets what he pays for, as he has to see that the member of parliament for whom he votes, does not neglect the interests of the town which he represents.

As an Englishman, I have no right to call in question the power of the Pope of Rome, the Patriarch of the Greek Church, the Elder of the Mormon Communion, the Arch-Pneuma of the Spiritualists, or any other religious head, to teach his followers any doctrine that he may please. I may laugh at the "false decretals" of the papacy, and the charlatanerie of the clairvoyants; but no political right supports me in my calling them to account for their stewardship.

On the other hand, when I know that the bishops of the Church of England are parties to the formation of our laws, and I find myself called upon to pay tithes or dues to individuals of the same establishment, I have a political right to ascertain, that the persons actually do what they profess to do for their money or position. If, for example, I live in a sparsely populated district, I and all my family are dependent upon the parson of the parish for instruction how to get to heaven; or, as an alternative, if I do not agree with his doctrine, I may abstain from being instructed at all. If, on the contrary, I inhabit a large town, still I am dependent for religious teaching upon the state clergyman, unless I elect to do without him, and any one else of the same persuasion, or select some non-conformist preacher who is to me no less offensive than the parliamentary parson.

When a confraternity has obtained, no matter how, or by what means, a definite prescriptive right to sell a certain material to the community at large, the latter have certainly a legal power to see that the stuff given is according to contract. If a company of millers engage, for certain privileges, to sell good wheat flour to all comers, the last can deprive them of their exclusive right, provided that it can be proved either that the flour is bad, or that it comes from barley, rye, oats, or potatoes, or is adulterated with gypsum, &c.

Presuming that this argument is tenable, our next inquiry is into that which our national church professes to sell, or to impart, in return for its privileges. In the fewest possible words we may say, that its duty is to impart "truth," or to teach what is, in its learned and educated opinion, the true religion for life and eternity.

The word truth is one which lies at the root of our question respecting honesty. Pilate is reported to have said—"What is truth?" We may put the same question now.

Without saying what "truth" is, we can readily declare what is "untruth." It is not truth if we, in argument, misrepresent an adversary; affirm that he made a certain statement, and then oppose—not the thing said—but some other matter which was not spoken of at all, and then assert that we have confuted him.

It is not truth to affirm, that observations recently made have been oftentimes presented before, and always successfully refuted, when the remarks in question are novel, never have been controverted, and apparently, are not capable of being disproved.

It is not truth to affirm, that human "authority," which, has been long acknowledged, can falsify "a fact," or make an unfounded assertion equal to a reality; or to declare, that one religion is good and another bad, simply because the speaker believes the matter to be so.

It is not truth to assert, that a certain book, and every part of it, is the revealed word of God, when it is known to be contradicted by science—i.e.t by a knowledge of the laws imposed on creation by its Maker, to be inconsistent with itself, and to contain internal evidence that it was composed by men of small knowledge and of grovelling disposition.

It is not truth to affirm, that if God's world proves what is called God's Book to be wrong, science must be neglected and the Bible upheld.

It is not truth to affirm that God spoke exclusively to one people, when it is known that the race in question drew nearly, if not quite, all their religious beliefs, from the neighbours amongst whom they were thrown.

It is not honest to propound in the pulpit the propriety of examining the Scriptures daily, and yet to persecute any one who by doing so becomes convinced of their human origin.

It would be honest, and prove the existence of a love of truth, if every preacher of every denomination spent as much time in trying the value of his text-book, as he does now in expounding it and explaining it away.

We should imagine that a minister loved truth, if he were first to ask himself how he treats the Vedas and Puranas, the Avesta, the Koran, the Apocryphal Gospels, the Apocrypha, the Book of Mormon, the visions and prophecies of "Latter-day saints," "Friends," Roman visionaries, and the oracles delivered at Delphi and elsewhere, and then to treat his own book with the same measure as he used with the others.

On the other hand, we should regard him as untruthful and dishonest, if he weighed the books and belief of others with weights and scales different to those with which he tried his own.

From each minister of religion the people have a right to demand an impartial inquiry into the absolute value of the doctrines which he teaches, and an investigation into the foundation, as well as the superstructure; and they may require, still further, that he, like Great-heart in Bunyan's story, shall do battle with assailants. When such a leader professes to fight, but always avoids the shock of battle, he cannot be regarded either as honest, or as comparable with Valiant-for-truth in the Pilgrim's Progress.

We are then, as laymen, justified in requiring that our spiritual leaders shall take a conspicuous part in examining the grounds of the faith which they teach, and that the leaders of the Established Church shall seek to establish its doctrine upon as firm basis as it is possible to obtain.

This certainly involves inquiry and discussion upon those points which modern criticism has prominently advanced.

When we turn to the "Prayer Book," we find that Deacons are required to say, that they unfeignedly believe all the Canonical Scriptures. Priests are obliged to affirm that the Holy Scriptures contain sufficiently all doctrine required of necessity for eternal salvation, through faith in Jesus Christ, &c. In the consecration of bishops the same, or nearly the same, formula is gone through. Thus, at the outset of their career, the ministers of the Church of England commit themselves to, or are required by law to make, a declaration which will preclude inquiry into the value of the book on which their teaching is founded; their first step in the ministry puts it out of their power to be honest, if experience should teach them more than they knew when young. The bishops and priests, however, when they subscribe to the opinion that the Bible contains all things necessary for salvation, do not pledge themselves to the belief that every sentence, part, division, book, or arrangement of the Canonical Scriptures is, and must of necessity be, true. Even in the dawn of ecclesiastical information in England, there was not a belief in the verbal inspiration of the Bible.

Of late years, when habits of thought and the art of printing have increased, the knowledge, and consequently, the power of the laity disproportionally to the advance made by clerics—a strong propensity to accumulate facts, and to argue thereupon has been very generally developed, and the increased information obtained has induced steadily increasing numbers to doubt, not only the verbal inspiration, but even the historical truth of the Scriptures. When this difficulty occurred, or rather, when it became recognized, scholars, no matter whether they were professional or amateur ecclesiastics, divided themselves involuntarily (we may fairly say, unknowingly, inasmuch as each individual worked quite independently, in the first place, of another) into those who believed that, if the Holy Spirit dictated the Scriptures, he must have seen that his amanuensis wrote correctly; those who imagined that the Bible was to be taken "in the lump;" and those who considered that the Scriptures are entirely of human origin, and absolutely valueless as a guide of faith. Consequently, three schools have arisen, two of which are essentially ecclesiastic. Of these, one regards all inquiry into the accepted text as improper, the other considers that everything should be done to verify the value of the so-called original Scripture.

Amongst the latter, Dr Colenso, Bishop of Natal, stands out conspicuously. Of the highest intellectual attainments, trained to close and scientific inquiry; able, far better than men of meaner capacity, to weigh the value of "evidence," whether "ancient or modern," he has drawn the conclusion that the Bible is not what it is generally supposed to be; in other words, that its historical portions are not trustworthy, and that there is grave reason to believe its writings to have been produced for a purpose, which involved dishonesty in the scribe, and in the promulgator of his writings. The learned doctor was honest in his investigation, and fearless in announcing his conclusions.

As an upright man, the Bishop of Natal is as completely justified in his inquiry into the validity or importance of an ancient book, alleged to be a pearl of great price, a gem or diamond of the first water, as the official curator of a museum would be, in determining whether a certain ruby, given into his charge, were real or artificial. Of the necessity of such an inquiry, the following anecdote, which was told me by the gentleman concerned, will convince the reader:—

A wealthy lady, of high position in life, sent to a museum, for exhibition, a number of "precious stones." If they were really what they were supposed and stated to be, their value would have been reckoned by thousands of pounds sterling. If accepted as genuine, and found, upon their restoration to the depositor, to be imitation jewels, the curator would be liable, not only for their value, but his character for honesty would be gone; consequently, ere he gave a receipt for the lot, he tested each. Not one was real!

This man was in the position which Dr Colenso occupies now. The owner of the jewels was indignant at the idea that the stones were false, and the apparent insinuation that imitations were being foisted on the public as realities; but her fury did not alter the fact. If she were artful, her plan was detected; if she had been deceived, her anger, though useless, was justified.

On the other hand, there are many Bishops who uphold the verbal inspiration of the Bible, and will not inquire if the gem be real, or only test it by plans known to be valueless for the purpose. Some do not go altogether so far as this, They consider it obligatory upon them to examine just a little bit, but not to go too deeply, lest they should be forced to believe that there never was such a man as Moses—a man who is commonly reported to have written certain books at a distant period. Some persons seem to think that their hope of happiness in this, as well as in another world, and not only their own, but that of everybody who is under their instruction, depends upon their feeling sure that Israel was once in Egypt—that Abraham begat Isaac, and became the progenitor of an innumerable offspring, exceeding in number the Indians of Hindostan, the Assyrians of Mesopotamia, the Egyptians of the Nile, and the Romans of Italy. Between these two inquirers, if the latter class can fairly be called such, the issue is distinct. There can be no difficulty amongst scholars as to the means by which the question ought to be settled.

An appeal to hard and dry facts is the plan adopted by philosophers. For men, who have a single eye to discover the truth, it matters little in what direction their inquiries lead them. Metaphorically speaking, they may begin a series of investigations, expecting that everything will lead them northwards, and they end by reaching the south; just as many an enthusiastic, but little instructed, man has accumulated "pyrites," under the impression that it was an ore of gold, and found, on inquiry, that the material was a sulphuret of iron, and of small commercial value.

But it is this very possibility of research bringing them to an undesirable goal, which deters so many of our divines from making any inquiry. Outwardly, they allow that it is their duty, as leaders, to examine, not only the condition of their own forces, but the position and power of those who assail the army which they profess to guide. Inwardly they find reasons for remaining quiet, and excuse themselves to their followers in some plausible fashion.

Why, however, should any goal be undesirable which leads us nearer to truth? Why should any body of professedly learned-men run the risk of being considered wanting in honesty, or candour, by avoiding their opponents, whom they are in honour bound to encounter?

The reply to these questions generally runs thus:—"We, as ministers of the Established Church of England, are bound to be faithful to the Bible, and to it we must adhere, whatever our own private judgment may be. We did not make the law; we simply take it as we find it, and, having sworn to obey it, we do so." This answer would be exhaustive, if it were the fact that the laity made the law for the theologians. But, as we know, that the ecclesiastics have, in the last resort always made laws for themselves, the rejoinder is not conclusive History tells us how ministers of religion have instructed the people, and how these, again, have legislated under the tuition of their advisers. When Paganism was supplanted by Christianity, the change was effected by preachers, who taught the populace to believe the new doctrine, and who influenced the minds of the lawmakers. In like manner, when Popery in England was put down by the Protestants, each party was headed by its priests. Many a minister, at that period, felt bound to follow what he believed to be truth, rather than to abide by a vow made in youth; and they who had upheld the authenticity of Popish miracles, and of Apocryphal Scriptures, ceased to give credence to them, or to use them as authorities in matters of religion. These men were honest.

That which has been done by men aforetime, may be done or imitated in our own day; and our divines have as great a power to examine into the value of the Bible now, as they had at the Reformation. If they refuse to make the inquest suggested—in what way, may we ask, do they differ from the Romanists in the time of Luther, who would not inquire into the truth of his arguments lest they should be convinced? Can any one who professes to be a Protestant—a child of the Reformation—honestly refuse to investigate the grounds of the faith which is in him, and shelter himself, as Bonner and others did, under the pretext of a declaration or vow made at ordination?

If those who make the excuse just referred to, are honest, they are bound to reject every doctrine which they, or their predecessors, have received from Romish priests, who propounded in adult life, doctrines different to those which they professed when yet almost children.

To illustrate the tendency of our remarks still further, let us, for a moment, suppose that the captain of a ship has, from any cause whatever, adopted a particular "compass" by which he directs his course, and which perhaps he calls by the name of Faith. All in the vessel are, to a great extent, dependent upon him for a successful voyage, and a safe arrival at the desired haven. Seeing how the master-mariner honours the magnetic needle, every thoughtful passenger will probably consult it in like manner. One more advanced in knowledge than the rest may desire to test the instrument by the position of the pole star, and thinking that he could recognize the latter, might infer that the magnet did not point truly. This doubt, we will imagine still further, he imparts to the captain, who, disinclined to distrust his compass, endeavours to demonstrate that the position of the pole star is doubtful.

In the place of the mariners' compass let us read the "Bible," and, instead of the pole star, let us substitute "science." We shall then recognize the position of such men as the Bishop of Winchester and Dr Colenso—the latter endeavours to test the value of the instrument which is most used by churchmen by certain well-known means; the former, on the contrary, aims to demonstrate that what he regards as a true indicator is so in spite of all which the planets prove to the contrary.

To carry on our metaphor a point further, let us imagine that the captain and the doubting passenger appeal to the seamen and the other people on board the barque—the latter telling in simple terms the grounds of his belief, whilst the former appeals to the passions of those who have long trusted him, and only notices the arguments of his opponent to misrepresent them. This is what was done by the Papists, in every country, at the time of the Reformation, and which more recently has been done by the Bishops and Archbishops of the Church of England, when in controversy with the Bishop of Natal Dr Colenso has in voluminous works, and with a precision which every scholar must admire, shown that the Old Testament—the "compass" of churchmen—is not what it is supposed to be. Against his views a new "Bible commentary" has been issued, with the sanction of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries; and in it the authors stoop to misrepresentation! If there were no pretence of joint authorship, one might imagine that each writer was responsible only for his own shortcomings; but when there is a parade of great names, which is intended to demonstrate the almost infallible truth of everything (except typographical errors), one is bound to treat the contributors as being on a level with each other, and all hierarchical coadjutors. How can any one, with a tendency towards fair dealing, characterize but with the epithet "contemptible dishonesty," a deliberate quotation from Dr Colenso, which is falsified, that the fabrication may be refuted? The Bishop of Natal's argument is a just one, and, although it is only contained in a note and not in the text itself, is of great weight. It runs thus (Part v., p. 97)—"Of course the fact that the tabernacle at Shiloh had doors (1 Sam. iii. 15)— that the lamp was allowed regularly to go out in it (1 Sam. iii. 3), and that Samuel slept in it, and apparently Eli also (1 Sam. iii. 2, 3), are sufficient to show that this could not have been the 'Mosaic Tabernacle.'" This is a fair and scholarly statement; the layman recognizes it as such, and looks to his ecclesiastical superior for an honest opinion on its value. What does he find? Simply this—Bishop Browne answers: "The objection (Colenso, Part v., p. 97) that the Tabernacle (at Shiloh) could not be the tabernacle, in the wilderness, because it had a 'door' (1 Sam. ii. 22) is rather singular, if we observe that the words in Samuel, on which the objection is founded— 'The women that assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation'—are literally a quotation from Exod. xxxviii. 8—'The women assembling, which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of congregation.' Of course the word door, fine pethah, is as applicable to a tent door as to a house door, and is constantly used of the door of the Tabernacle in the Pentateuch."

In this observation of the Bishop of Winchester a false issue is deliberately raised; the quotation given by Colenso is not touched, and for it another, wide of the mark, is substituted! In the verse referred to by the Bishop of Natal the words are—"And Samuel lay until the morning, and opened the doors of the house of the Lord," &c.—"doors" being in the original, dalethoth—a different word altogether to pethah, and certainly in the plural number. In other language, we may say that in the Speaker's Bible, almost every argument and criticism of Colenso and his German authorities are left unnoticed and unanswered; and this, almost the only quotation made, is not a true one! Is this honest? So gross, in my opinion, is the want of candour shown in this case, that I, for one, cannot trust a single assertion of the Bishop of Ely, now translated to Winchester, even when he quotes chapter and verse, until I have verified the extract.

But the flagrancy of the proceeding is, if it can be, heightened by a reference to the subject Dr Colenso was endeavouring to show, by those undesigned coincidences, that hierarchs profess to love so much, and which they parade with great earnestness when it suits their purpose, that the tabernacle at Shiloh was not that described in the Pentateuch. It was perfectly open to Dr Browne to adduce evidence that it was the same. This he does not do—the scholar can well understand the reason why, viz., that a close inquiry supports the Bishop of Natal's view. For example, in 1 Sam. L 9, we find that Eli is sitting "upon a seat by a post of the temple of the Lord." This sentence is significant in English, it is much more so in Hebrew. The words "post" and "temple" certainly are quite incompatible with a tent or tabernacle. In the Hebrew, the tabernacle is generally spoken of as ohel, whilst "temple" is heckal. Still further, the expression, "post of the temple," is peculiar, because a corresponding one is found only once in the Old Testament—viz., in Ezek. xli. 21, where the English version has "the posts of the temple," whilst the marginal reading has "post" The word heckal is in constant use throughout the later Jewish books, but does not occur once in the Pentateuch; and it is a significant fact that, in 1 Kings xxi. 1, 2 Kings xx. 18, Ps. xlv. 8, cxliv. 12, Pro. xxx. 28, Is. xiii. 22, xxxix. 7, Dan. i. 4, the word in question is translated in our authorized version palace.

As the idea of a palace—a royal residence, is totally distinct from a tent or tabernacle, it is clear that the narrative about Eli, Hannah, and Samuel, was written by some one to whom the story told in the Pentateuch was quite unknown. The dishonesty—we speak thus, controversially—of the bishops concerned in the new commentary is not only shown in the suggestio falsi, but in the suppressio veri; and no amount of skill in argument or of book-learning can, amongst those who are aware of the fraud, get over the effect which is produced by the cheat. It is evident, that the questions which the Bishops ask themselves are—"Since there are so many who are wholly ignorant of this matter, shall we not do more to uphold current ideas by fraud than by truth?" and, "Is it not right for us to risk our own souls in support of a faith which we do not, but which the people do, believe?"

In a time when all men are ignorant enough not to understand what is history and what pure fable; when they are so careless as not to examine quotations, made from "authorities," in confirmation of opinions, or so credulous as to believe anything which a churchman, and, par-excellence, a Bishop, may affirm, it may be regarded by ecclesiastical writers as a pardonable sin, if not, indeed, a tactical master stroke, to misrepresent an adversary. But in the present day, when all educated Englishmen have heard of the false decretals on which the Popes have founded their claims to superiority, and the astute legend of Prester John, it is bad policy for a Bishop to found an argument upon a wrong quotation, or to imagine that a glaring untruth can by any possibility support his position. For myself, I confess that I began to read the Speaker's Commentary with interest, inasmuch as it purported to be an exposition and refutation of the arguments against the authenticity of certain Biblical writings; but when I found an English hierarch could so forget his duty to "the truth" as to misquote such a man as his episcopal brother, the Bishop of Natal, I abstained from a farther perusal, for I found the necessity of verifying quotations involved more time than I could afford. Dr Colenso has, however, sufficiently shown the viciousness of the new commentary, and there is no necessity for a second investigator.

From what has been said, we have shown that the members of the Church of England, and all Protestant dissenters, have a right to expect from their teachers an opinion, founded upon learned inquiry, "whether the objections made by scholarly critics against the inspiration of the Bible are well founded," and that ministers of all denominations, as a body, not only shirk the duty, but persecute such of their fraternity as venture to do so.

When an individual in the community accepts a trust and does not fulfil it, he is amenable to the law; and if it can be proved that there has been wilful negligence, the trustee may be punished. This does not, however, apply directly to the clergy, for the trust which is confided to them is to preach and teach from the Bible. That, certainly, is what they engage to do before the law, but the very essence of their existence as ministers of religion is, that they shall instruct men in the way of salvation. This trust, which is never put into legal phraseology, is proclaimed to be in existence by every preacher; and each minister, by implication or assertion, declares that he is desirous of exercising this trust to the best of his ability. If, then, the real value of his leadership is challenged, he ought, as a champion, to defend it. He does so in every point, except that which is most essential He will discuss circumcision with a Jew, infant christening with a baptist, purgatory with a popish priest, bishops with a presbyterian, confession with a ritualist, and the like. There must, then, be some cause why Revelation should not be treated of.

If we consult human nature, the only causes to which we can assign this reticence are, conscientious cowardice and dishonesty. The first is, by many persons, regarded as a duty—they are taught that it is sin to doubt; the second is not called by its right name. Yet, as we have said elsewhere, our religious societies are founded upon the principle of sowing doubt broadcast; and we denounce the pious frauds which invented winking virgins and bleeding nuns. Surely, if there be any truth in the line—"An honest man's the noblest work of God," it is most essential that they, who style themselves His ministers, ought to be conspicuously honourable, candid, and thoroughly trustworthy in matters of doctrine as well as of morality.

The subject on which we are now treating has ramifications so wide, that it is difficult to see the end of the branches. Amongst the most obvious is the influence which it has upon the matter of public education—one which occupies a large portion of the interest of our nation at the present time.

In our preceding vol. II., p. 113, we have a note to the effect that there is much doubt upon the subject whether faith ought to be drilled into the minds of our youth prior to an acquisition of, or the power of using, their reasoning faculty, and we remarked that the question is far too extended to be treated in a casual note.

The matter was shortly afterwards discussed in parliament, but not one of the orators ventured to touch upon the point involved. If we ask ourselves "the reason why," it is probable that the answer would run—because all the interlocutors did not venture to be honest; by which I mean, did not wish to utter, in distinct language, the opinions that they held, and the end which they sought. There are some legislators who regard moral cowardice as a virtue, and political dishonesty as a desirable kingcraft.

If an observer of the parliamentary debates, to which we refer, was also a diligent and thoughtful reader of orations made in country towns and metropolitan districts, by preachers and teachers of all our various religious denominations, he would readily come to the conclusion that there was something underlying every speech, which was never allowed to come to the surface—a something which each was perfectly cognizant of, but which it would be unmannerly to name, or even to hint at strongly. It is not, in public meetings, or in parliament, permitted to any speaker to accuse an adversary of falsehood or dishonesty.

Yet, what an orator may not judiciously say of particular individuals, a writer may assert of a class, or of a single person, if he is a representative of a body. I may, for example, accuse the Pope of dishonesty in misrepresenting certain well-known facts. I may equally charge controversial writers with fraud, when they falsify the words or arguments of an opponent. Whoever frames such an indictment is, however, bound to take into consideration the possibility of there being an unintentional error. It may, for example, be true that Popes never see newspapers which tell the truth, and that divines may quote without ever reading the book which they profess to criticise. In both cases the critic acquits them of malice, but only to convict them of culpable ignorance.

When we investigate how this bears upon education, we ask ourselves—"Do we, as historians, or in our capacity of reading men, know that the pretensions of the Church of Rome are founded upon, or are bolstered up by, assertions which every learned man knows, or ought to know, are unworthy of belief?"

To be more particular, let us propound the question—Does any Papal hierarch believe that Francis of Assisi received certain bodily marks on his hands and feet direct from Jesus? or that any portion of the blood of a man has been preserved for ages in the Cathedral of Naples, as having once belonged to a person who is called by the same name as the first month in our year? We might readily increase our queries by remarking about St. Dennis, St. George, St Fou-tin, and a variety of others who appear in the Roman heaven. Our purpose, however, will be answered if we ask, whether the thoughtful amongst us do not object to the Papal faith, because those who proclaim it are not to be trusted?

If we listen to energetic Protestant divines, we hear much of "lying wonders," wrought by Antichrist, which are calculated even to deceive the very elect. These men frequently quote such passages as the following:—"Trust ye not in lying words, saying, The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are these" (Jer. vii. 4); "They have committed villany in Israel, and have spoken lying words in my name, which I have not commanded them" (Jer. xxix. 23); "Have ye not spoken a lying divination," &c. (Ezek. xiii. 7, 8, 9); "Then shall that Wicked be revealed, whose coming is with lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness; and for this cause God shall send them strong delusions, that they should believe a lie," &c. (2 Thess. ii. 8-12). Indeed, the main objection to the Roman Church, amongst all those who are acquainted with its secret history, is that it is founded, and still exists, upon a foundation of fraud.

There are many who consider that the Churches of England and of Scotland have not a better basis; but both have so many friends in Great Britain, that the sins of neither are closely examined, except by their adversaries.

Each sectarian is fully alive to the want of good faith shown by every other division of the Church of Christ; and not only so, but we have seen, in our own times, a ruler in Siam who knows about them too (see Wheel of the Law, by H. Alabaster; Triibner & Co., London, 1871), and is perfectly alive to the fact that we deceive ourselves.

It is a part of human nature that each individual has a propensity to deceive himself or herself. A child, who has been told that Old Bogy lives in a certain cupboard, will not go and look therein; a man who adores a lovely wife will not believe in her frailty; and a fond woman will not credit even her father, when he tells her that her admirer is a worthless scoundrel.

We grant this readily, but we add the proviso, that we only allow ourselves to be deceived by our own friends. It would be, to all of us, a frightful infliction if our sons or daughters were to tell us that we were under strong delusions, and believing in lies. Consequently, everyone desires that his family shall have a similar faith with his own.

At the present time, however, more conspicuously than at any other since printing was invented, there is, in society, a vast number of men who believe, from their critical inquiries, that all religionists trust in lying vanities which do not profit. These individuals have become sceptics, in consequence of education having led them to think for themselves. Being opposed to all, they are friendly with none; and although they are not aggressive, as a rule, they are vigorously attacked by every sect which steadily refuses to come to the light.

Under these circumstances every hierarch argues: "The education which frees the mind from all the shackles of superstition is prejudicial to us, who earn our living hy making fetters, fixing them, and relaxing them when duly paid to do so. A sound teaching—a style of instruction that will induce the rising generation to examine into our pretensions will cut the ground from under our feet. We must, therefore, endeavour to limit, in some considerable degree, our tuition." Like the Jesuits in Austria and of to-day, they will cram the memory, but not exercise the understanding; they will crowd the mind with lying statements, and prohibit all inquiry. Sectarians, therefore, as a rule, object to education, unless it has a religious element in it. They agree in this point, but differ as to the style of faith which is to be taught Hence all the difference of opinion, for as the sectarians cannot decide upon what faith is to be taught, they object to all instruction whatever. Are they honest?

If, instead of nursing a private idea, each legislator were boldly to say what he desired to obtain and to avoid, there might be some chance of united action. But when all pretend to work in common, yet not one is absolutely in earnest, and all, more or less, play at "make believe," no valuable end will be obtained.

One politician, whose memory is tenacious, and his temerity great, cannot bear the idea that the British mind should approximate to that of the Germans; and, whilst he eulogizes education, he denounces Strauss. Not because the latter is not a man of profound learning, but because the cultivation of his intellect has led him to certain conclusions which are distasteful to an English politician. This is not honesty.

Again, our bishops and the priesthood generally say, "Education is a desirable thing; it is wrong for man, who has a soul to be saved, not to seek out the way of salvation." But if, in the course of inquiry, a scholar imagines that their way is incorrect, he is anathematized, and his fellows are instructed to believe that no one can find comfort for the soul except in the way patronized by the Church. This, again, is not honest. But—and the word is of mighty import—if, instead of saying this distinctly, a few individuals of high standing in the Protestant community deliberately, and with the intention to deceive—or to retain people in the bonds which astute predecessors have thrown around the laity, state, as their belief, that which their critical knowledge tells them is untrue, or withhold knowledge of importance, because they deem its publication detrimental to ecclesiastical institutions, they are not simply dishonest—they are culpable, and guilty of spiritual murder.

My meaning may be illustrated by one or two pertinent anecdotes: The captain of a man-of-war was doubtful of the existence of a rock laid down upon a chart. One day at dinner he announced to his company the disbelief which he had, adding, that if the spot were truly described, the ship would strike directly. It did so, and few survivors were left to tell the tale. The commander judiciously elected to perish with his vessel. Had he told his officers, and the distinguished passengers whom he was carrying, what he was doing, it is certain that the danger would have been avoided.

Another ship captain was addressed by a civilian who was on board, and told that a hurricane was approaching, which might be avoided by steering in a certain direction; but, metaphorically speaking, the bishop would not listen to the layman. The typhoon came, the vessel was partially dismasted; then the passenger was consulted, and by his aid the ship got out of the danger.

The civilian was well read, not in ancient books, but in modern science; the master mariner knew only his log-book, compass, and "the rule of thumb."

A person who loses his ship because he is too stupid to believe a chart, or the rules of a science, which every scholar may test, deserves the name of an imbecile, and our Board of Trade would deprive him of the power to do any more mischief as a captain; but bishops and priests may pilot their vessel wrongly, for none have any jurisdiction over them, provided always that they steer in the old channels. It matters not how far the way may be shifted, all is supposed to be right, if the old landmarks are still used.

To make our meaning still more clear, let us imagine ourselves a nation of mariners, and of ocean-travellers. We go to school, and learn astronomy, trigonometry, geography, physics, and the like; yet, when we are at sea in any ship whatever, we must neglect our knowledge, and trust implicitly to the captain of our ship. We know that we are, in reality, going southwards, when our proper destination lies to the north: for us it is easy to read the stars, and thus to test both the chronometer and the compass; must we, then, be quiet because we have embarked in a vessel belonging to a certain "line," which is commanded by a master appointed by the "firm" or "company" to which the barque belongs. What is the value of education unless it enables us, when necessary, to find whether we are in the right way or not?

Let us, still further, suppose that we remonstrate with the captain, and that he, in place of arguing the matter fairly, endeavours to override our objections by quoting from ancient geographers, to demonstrate that what we believe to be the wrong is, in reality, the only true way to go; we may be silenced, probably until we accidently discover in the ship's library, a dissertation proving that the old traveller's charts are worthless. When we find out that, what will be our opinion of the captain? Can we believe him to be honest?

If we now were to remonstrate with our naval dictator, and he were to rejoin—"My worthy brothers, I know that you are right, and that I have been wrong. I have, indeed, known it from the time I began to be commander, but my living depends upon my belief in old charts and ancient compasses. I dare not change my plan, for my masters would dismiss me. They know—at least I feel convinced that they are aware, that the old sailing directions are wrong; but they have not the courage to say so, or to alter them—and if I do so, they will cashier me."

Is the "firm" or "company" honest? and if we are to mete out degrees of culpability, to whom must the severest punishment be awarded? Surely, in the case of the Church of England, to her Bishops, who, knowing, as scholars, that their compass and charts are incorrect, yet oblige those under their command to steer by them—thus compelling the men who ought to be standard-bearers in the forefront of intellectual work, either to be silent, or to fight at a disadvantage.

It is the knowledge of the duplicity of a vast number of intelligent divines, which has induced laymen to take the business of education out of the hands of the clergy as a body. The Protestant believes that a Jesuit will not teach correct history; the Romanist feels certain that, even in biography, evangelical narratives cannot be trusted; and Nonconformists generally feel that they cannot rely upon the instruction given by those of a different sect.

It is desirable to sketch, if possible, what would be the condition of society if, in the place of the clergy, there was a set of men trained to the office of instructor, and that all individuals in the kingdom were compelled to attend school for a definite period in their youth. In the first place, nothing would be taught which is not known to be true. After having mastered the rudiments of knowledge, the art of reading, writing, and ciphering, the students would be taught to train their minds in drawing inferences from facts, and the art of passing from imperfect knowledge to certainty. They would be schooled into habits of exactness, and the necessity for careful inquiry before they believed an assertion to have the same power as a fact Those whose inclination led them to study one or more of the arts or sciences, drawing, painting, sculpture, designing, weaving, chemistry, engineering, building, and a host of others, would learn that in every one of them knowledge and precision are required to ensure success.

When the instructor found that his pupils were sufficiently trained to the exercise of reasoning, he would then proceed to explain the ideas which have been entertained by various people about the existence of beings, other than those which can be recognized by the senses. He would lead his class through the geological history of our planet, and point out the sequence of events from the latest formation, to the primary rocks; on his way he would linger on the nature of ancient plants and animals; from our earth he would lead them to a study of the stars, and then point out how very natural is the opinion that all the universe had a designer.

Then, after giving a history of the belief in ancient times, he would gradually descend to our own. He would critically examine the pretensions of any person who had, in former ages, asserted, or who proclaimed now, that he or she knew all about this presumed Creator, and was charged to communicate that knowledge to mankind. After explaining the critical test by which such an assumed mission might be examined—viz., by accurate knowledge of the earth and of mankind, he would apply this trial to all known pretenders to inspiration.

As a result, his pupils might prefer one to another, or refuse to believe in all which have hitherto appeared. In any case, each individual would enter upon the form of faith which he selected with full knowledge of the facts in favour of it. He would, therefore, be a disciple worth having. If, on the other hand, he disbelieved all pretenders to inspiration, his condition would be the result of deliberate reasoning upon ascertained facts, and not built, as all religion now is, upon parrot lore, taught in childhood, ere thoughtfulness has begun to grow.

Assuming that men were thus trained by honest and able instructors, all those people who live upon the weaknesses and the ignorance of the multitude would cease their endeavours to prey upon mankind, and to get a living by playing upon the fears which so many persons have of the unknown. There would then be no religious wars or contests—no popes, prelates, priests, nor deacons. Quackery of all kinds would cease, and statesmen would all agree in endeavouring to procure for mankind the greatest amount of available happiness. This would be the result of honesty. But from such a picture many men absolutely recoil As the effect of training has been to make them believe that unsubstantial things are of sovereign importance, they cannot endure the idea of man being wholly rational; and they insist, as does the late Premier of England, that, if scientific schooling of the mind leads men to neglect what some call Revelation, the plan must be radically bad and worthless. But to eulogise education and to deprecate its results is dishonest. This political tenet or practice resembles that of many a parson, who tells his hearers from the pulpit that they are to "take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow will take thought for the things of itself;" "they are not to take thought for life, for food, for raiment; nor to lay up for themselves treasures upon earth" (Matt vi. 19, 25, 34), and on the week-day urges them to lay by a store against the time of sickness or old age. Such double-dealing is dishonest, and is unworthy of a thoughtful man. If Jesus was right, why not enforce his teaching? if he was wrong, why not say so?

Is it possible that any minister in politics, or religion, can believe that "Honesty is the best policy," and yet act with double-dealing? Can any person, who has power to think, believe that he will be respected when he, on a Sunday, preaches improvidence as being taught by the Almighty, and on a Monday proclaims that men are wicked who do not make a provision for the future? If such people were honest with themselves, they would soon discover that the doctrine propounded from the pulpit is a Buddhistic one, acted upon by all the early disciples of Sakya Muni, and in a conspicuous manner by himself. Yet, if a parson were to be candid thus far to himself, he would probably say—"I cannot afford to be honest in this matter openly, and I must keep this knowledge to myself." Interest, unfortunately, determines the actions, even of our divines, more than a rigid uprightness.

We are thus at the foundation of those causes which are in operation to make the thoughtful laity distrustful of the clergy—it is, that the latter are not honourable or strictly veracious—they preach one doctrine, and act upon another. Honesty is on their lips, but self-interest in their hearts. From the Pope to the humblest deacon, there is a conscious reticence in every mind—an inner belief that their pretensions are not tenable, yet an outward determination to proclaim them at all hazards; like the silversmiths of Ephesus, they all unite in the belief that "their craft is in danger" when the apostles of reason appear.

Far be it from me to assert that all the clergy are dishonest in the full meaning of the word. I believe that many of them have such undeveloped minds, or such mean intellectual capacities, that they are absolutely unable to think upon any subject which has not been drilled into them when their brains were childish and ductile. Others, again, have been schooled into the belief that "doubt" and "the devil" are identical, and who pray to be defended from both—with them, "to inquire" is a temptation of Satan, and so is to be manfully resisted; others, again, say to themselves, and sometimes even to their friends—"I know what will follow if I go into 'the evidences'—I dare not do it, and prefer to remain in my present condition." Others, again, say to their conscience—I am paid to expound a certain book, in a certain way; I cannot afford to give up my position; consequently I will neither hear of nor argue upon either the volume or the doctrine. There are, again, some few religionists who, by constantly encouraging a blind faith, and repressing all intellectual doubts, come at length to believe their position impregnable, and who trust it because it is, as it were, always kept under a glass-case. Some such I know, or have known, personally; and have heard from their own lips how their very accurate knowledge of the Bible has made them doubt its inspiration, and how "they have wrestled with God in prayer"—to use their own expression—until the temptation to distrust has been changed into a childlike confidence. Men like these are not dishonest to the world, they are only so to themselves.

The career of one of my acquaintances has been so striking, that it deserves a record. The man of whom I speak was one of powerful intellect, and of an inquiring turn of mind; but he was in holy orders, and had schooled himself never to investigate the Bible's claim to inspiration, or anything connected with religion. He faithfully did the ordinary duties of a minister according to his lights; but throughout his ministrations, in the composition and delivery of every sermon, there was a powerful undercurrent of the mind which was constantly saying, without using words—"You know that you are not honest." Prayer did not subdue this mental conflict, and day by day the undercurrent grew stronger. It was, however, resolutely opposed, and an outward orthodoxy rigidly kept up. Of the throes of such a man, when he was quietly alone, few but those who have felt them can have an idea. Under their influence the brain gave way, and insanity was the reward of a resolute determination to be orthodox against personal conviction. Similar cases are not uncommon, when faith opposes reason.

It is very doubtful whether ordinary laymen have an adequate idea of the extent of clerical dishonesty existing amongst us, not only in the seats of learning, but in our towns, cities, and villages. As I have had much correspondence and conversation with many ministers of religion, I have formed the opinion that parsons of all denominations regard themselves much in the same light as trade unionists and non-union men, the two parties look upon each other as hostile. The former, who call themselves the orthodox, keep up a sort of spy system upon those whose opinions they fear, because they are not in the union. Such men, if they had a chance, would not scruple to "ratten" an adversary. They judge of a man by the books which they chance to see in his library, book-cases, or upon his table; and, without the manliness to confront, they have the weakness to backbite those whose mind is more robust than their own.

As a physician, I have been consulted by a Church of England minister, who was suspected by the rest of the ministers in his town of being a non-union man. Of strong mind, he did not preach the usual jargon which the pulpit delights in. Irons upon Prophecy and Inman's Ancient Faiths had been seen in his study, and he spoke approvingly of Colenso. As a consequence, he was watched in the pulpit and in the street. He was followed to the homes of poverty, and sick folk were visited, that the nature of his ministrations might be searched out. He was visited by persons of all classes, who, taking their cue from the New Testament, strove to entangle him in his talk. Being married, and having a family, and no means of subsistence, save his church living, this trade union persecution made him miserable, and seriously injured his health. But he was resolute not to be dishonest, and held on his way. I was, he assured me, the only person whom he knew that could appreciate his condition, and he was most thankful for my sympathy and advice. He left my house already improved in health; and the feeling that he had a friend to whom he might always apply, enabled him to bear his persecution manfully. He still retains his position, notwithstanding all the wiles and "picketings" of the trade unionists.

This spy system, mentioned in the above example, is associated with an attempt to discover and apply backstairs influence—those who have the power of making appointments in the church, the chapel, or the meeting-house, are studied, and their opportunities to remove a non-unionist taken advantage of by clerical "By-ends," who endeavour to shape their judgment according to that of their patrons.

This dishonesty reacts upon itself. Men who preach habitually one set of doctrines to a congregation, tie themselves and their understanding down to the low level of the majority of mediocrities; and as this level has, under such circumstances, a tendency to lower itself, the clergy have been compelled to fall, with their patrons, far down in the intellectual scale, and the intelligence and educational status of ministers of all denominations sinks annually lower. The proprieties of society prevent me from repeating what has come to my ears from the lips or pens of distinguished clerics. It will be enough if I utter my belief that one or more outspoken laymen will do more good to religion, and advance the interests of society more, than all ecclesiastical unionists. In this and the preceding volumes it has been my aim to be thoroughly honest. In some things of small moment, such as Greek accents, Hebrew points, &c., it is probable I have been faulty. I will even allow, willingly, that a more perfect Hebrew scholar than myself may esteem my etymons fanciful and incorrect. My work having been done in the midst of constant interruptions, I concede that, to accomplished bookworms, it must appear disjointed. But, with all its faults, it is honest; and, being so, I claim the right to challenge any one who chooses to enter the lists, and encounter me honourably, to a knightly combat. I am sure that my aim has been, and is yet, to elicit truth. To me vituperation, because I have run foul of what are called established doctrines, has no more influence than it had upon the prime movers of any revolution. A foul blow, such as iniquitous misrepresentation, would probably anger me for a moment, yet it would nerve me, in the course of a few hours, to make an onslaught more furious than ever. With a literary rascal one cannot observe the strict laws of knighthood, except indeed, those which govern the relations of the noble and the varlet.

I make this challenge the more boldly, because the so-called orthodox cannot persecute me by those meannesses which they employ against each other. Having no ecclesiastical status, I have no penalty to dread from frightened bishops or malignant priests. In the face of such a defiance the clerical party must fight fairly, or slink away as cravens. One condition, however, I must make with any one who enters the lists—viz., that any misrepresentation, such as that made about Bishop Colenso by Dr Browne of the See of Winchester, shall be regarded as ipso facto—a signal of defeat.

To return to the idea which is enunciated at the early part of this essay, let us contemplate what would be, or rather, what ought to be, the duty of an honest man, whose aim is to defend the faith which he professes, and to prove that the book which he reveres is deserving of his confidence.

It is probable that, if a merchant had in his possession a bill, or promissory note, which some person had examined carefully, and pronounced to be a forgery, he would never think of parading it before his customers as a valid "asset." Yet, as I write the sentence, memory recalls to my mind that traders have done this very thing, and have counted what they ought to have known were bad debts, or fraudulent bills of exchange, amongst their securities for money; and that, when the parties so acting have become bankrupt, their proceedings have been severely punished by the authorities, as being dishonest and fraudulent.

The analogy is an useful one, inasmuch as it enables me to ask the question—"Ought the morality of a 'divine' to be inferior to that practised by a merchant or banker?" Still further, let us inquire whether we should have a high opinion of a trader, who endeavoured to palm off upon us, as a genuine diamond, an article which had been publicly declared to be a bit of "paste," and whether we should be satisfied with his excuse—"I believe everything is a gem that goes by the name of a precious stone."

In the course of this and our preceding volumes we have, as plainly as words could express our meaning, enunciated our conclusions upon certain Biblical difficulties. We have, at least, endeavoured to be honest; we have not misrepresented those with whose opinions we differ, nor have we tried to shirk any question, however difficult it may have been. We claim a corresponding degree of honesty from those who profess to be authorised guides—and certainly are in the position at present of national leaders in religion.

We are not like an unfortunate clerk in "holy orders," who can be silenced by law. We are, on the contrary, a stranger knight who comes to a tourney, and claims the right to combat with the most redoubtable of the champions of their court and kingdom. Still further, we assume the power to write those down as cowards who, upon any pretence whatever, decline to compete in the lists with us.

In the days of chivalry there was not a knight who would not have been regarded as "craven," if he declined a combat because his challenger did not speak or write French correctly, or had a speck of rust on his armour, a dint in his shield, or a hole in his breastplate. Yet, in these degenerate days, we see that poltroons refuse to entertain the arguments of a writer who, from any cause whatever, appears to be inaccurate in Hebrew points, or consonants, or Greek accents, or transliteration. For ourselves, we regard every excuse which is framed to avoid meeting a fairly stated argument as a proof of weakness, and when it is uttered by a professional champion, as an act of cowardice. When such champions are paid by a state to uphold the honour of their country, to avoid a challenge by evasion is dishonesty. There was, however, in knightly days, some established law of chivalry that no champion need fight a "squire" or "varlet;" but, on the other hand, no nobleman could refuse to enter the lists on the plea that his challenger had a different faith to his own. Combats between Christians and Paynim were common. Consequently, we cannot regard a bishop justified in declining a fair challenge, because he is invited to enter the lists by an "Infidel."

Considering myself as an university graduate and an English gentleman, entitled to give a literary challenge, I make no scruple to enter the lists, and invite champions to break a lance with me in favour of their patron saint or lady.

I assert that their tutelary saints—Adam, Abraham, David, Moses, Solomon, and the prophets, are imaginary beings, or, where real, were not as worthy as they are supposed to have been. I defy scholars to prove that the Israelites were ever, as a body, in Egypt; that they were delivered therefrom by Moses; that the people wandered during forty years in "the desert;" received a code of laws from Jehovah on Sinai; and were, in any sense whatever of the words, "the chosen people of God."

I assert that the whole history of the Old Testament is untrue, with the exception of a few parts which tell of unimportant events—e.g., it is probable that the Jews fought with their neighbours, as the Swiss have done in modern days—but I do not believe the tale about Samson any more than that of William Tell.

I assert that there is not a single true prophecy in the whole Bible, which can be proved to have been written before the event to which it is assumed to point, or which is superior, in any way, to the "oracles" delivered in various ancient lands.

I assert that the whole of what, is called the Mosaic law had no existence in the days of David, Solomon, and the early Hebrew chieftains—or kings—if they are thought to deserve the title.

Here there is no room for evasion—the issue is clear; the cause to be adjudged by combat is unmistakable. As the weapons on both sides must necessarily be literary—the pen, and not lance or spear, it is advisable to say a few words thereupon. In argument I do not recognize that style of logic which considers that the words "it may be" are equal to "it is."

I am induced to make this remark, because in theological works, the two forms are constantly used as if they were identical. Many years ago, a near relative, staying in my house, was preparing for ordination in the Church of England, and amongst other hooks, had a certain work of the late Cardinal Wiseman, for perusal—with the intention of collecting materials for refuting it. He told me that the Papal Archbishop was too strong for him, and requested my aid. As a result, I became familiar, not only with many dogmatic writings of the Roman, but also of the Anglican, Church. All of them had, in my estimation, the same logical fault. Their authors imagined that any given point is proved when it can be shown that the occurrence in question may have happened. At a subsequent period I discovered that this was the prevalent argument amongst writers in my own profession. It has, indeed, been supposed generally, that success in proving an opponent to be wrong, is the same as demonstrating your own propositions to be right.

The writers in the Speaker's Commentary upon the Bible have not advanced beyond this. A thousand such commonplaces as fill its pages, are worthless to the philosophical inquirer, and I no more regard them, than a knight would a targe and lance made of barley-sugar.

My challenge, however, is not confined to the subject of the Old Testament; I affirm that the New Testament is equally untrue—although not to the same degree. Yet, as in the latter, there are not so many asserted facts, there cannot be so many points for cavil. To be more specific: I assert that the history of Jesus was framed upon that of Sakya Muni, and very probably at Alexandria, long after the death of the son of Mary. I do not deny the existence of Jesus; but I assert that every miracle which is told respecting him—and the narrative of his miraculous conception, and of the marvels occurring at his birth, have no foundation in fact.

It is unnecessary to repeat what I have already said upon such points as "original sin," "the fall of man," and "the need of a Saviour."

In what I now say or write, I am perfectly honest. I have not been paid to preach a certain doctrine, whether my understanding assents to it or not I affirm, moreover, that the comfort in which I live, is wholly unbroken by any fears for the future; and that I look back upon the period when my days and nights were made wretched by superstition, and rejoice that I am emancipated from the shackles of Ecclesiastics. "The Church," and every sect of it, which is known in Christendom, is, in my opinion, unfit to be trusted by thoughtful human beings. Its votaries are only happy in proportion to their power of forgetting its doctrines, or explaining them away. Yet all, as I said in the first chapter of my second volume, agree "to make believe," and by dint of persistently doing so, end in persuading themselves that they are clothed with lovely garments—which have no existence, save in the opinion of the wearer.

My whole life has been passed amongst religionists of more or less piety. I have known them in public and in private, in their connection with the world, and their relations with wife, children, and servants. I am also familiar with some who are avowed free-thinkers. As an impartial judge, and certainly having the desire to be an honest one, I declare that the so-called irreligion or infidelity of the latter makes them better citizens of the world, better fathers of a family, and better priests to those who are struggling with misfortune, than the religion—orthodox or non-conformist—of the former induces them to become.

If there were in reality, as there was once in fable, a domain in which every one was constrained to speak the truth; and if, still farther, one could carry thereto every religionist, and inquire into his belief, I feel sure that those whom the professed Christians affect to despise as infidels, would be the only ones who would be found faithful in private, to the principles which they profess in public. If, for an example, the question were put to both "What is honesty?" the answer of the free-thinkers would be—"Doing to others, in every position of life, that which you would wish others to do to you;" the reply of the dogmatic would be the same, with the important addition—"Except in matters of faith."

My readers must not imagine that I am hasty or unscrupulous in what is passing from my mind to my pen. There never was a time in which I have felt more deeply that my duty, as an independent man, is to speak plainly. On the other hand, there is not one single religionist of my acquaintance, to whom the words—"Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of" (Luke ix. 55)—do not apply.

On the shelves of my library are books written by almost all classes of authors, and in many different languages. It has been a self-enforced duty to compare their contents, and to endeavour, still further, to elicit from those who are not writers, information which may assist me in forming a correct idea upon any particular point. Up to the present time I have not found one single work, which has relation to the religion of opponents, and is written by a parson, thoroughly trustworthy or honest Everyone is guilty, either of the suppressio veri or suggestio falsi—generally of both. A book emanating from a priest is bad, that from a bishop is worse. Colenso, whom I regard as the only thoroughly truthful member of the episcopal hierarchy, is the one who is more foully treated by religionists than any other minister has ever been—"Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."

We may be pardoned, if we close this chapter by the expression of our views as to the religion which will prevail when men have thought as much upon their future life as upon their present, and are honest with themselves:

1. They will try to form some distinct idea of what would be to them a heaven; but, as they will be wholly unsuccessful, they will cease to speculate upon it.

2. They will cease to fear a hell, knowing that, if there be any immortal part of man, it must be immaterial; they will not believe that it can be tormented by material fires, forks, and furies.

3. They will cease to pay any attention to men who call themselves prophets, divine messengers, or vicars of God on earth, whether they use lying wonders or not.

4. Instead of constantly cogitating how much they can sin against, and yet get pardon from, some unknown deity, they will recognize the laws of nature for their guide, and live in communities as their reason dictates. The future will be left wholly in the power of the Creator.

5. There will be no belief in a trinity, in a virgin mother of God, in intercessors of any kind whatever between human beings and the invisible God; each man and woman will be independent and alone in the presence of the Supreme.

6. Man will no longer try to usurp the place of God, and persecute his fellow mortal on religious grounds.

7. There will be no priests or ministers of religion; but there will be instructors in science, in the laws of life, and moral order; there will be magistrates to enforce social propriety, and establishments where the insane and the criminal can be secluded.

8. There will be no strife about religion, for each will attend to his own personal concerns.

9. The laws of nature will be studied as regards marriage and family; the infected will not be allowed to perpetuate a feeble race, nor the diseased infant be pampered, that it may live to a sickly and useless maturity.*

10. No law will be made but that which is drawn from a study of the ways of the Creator, and the proper requirements of His creatures.

11. Every pretender to revelation, or inspiration, will be incarcerated as a rogue or a lunatic.

12. The aim of all will be individual and general comfort, and as much happiness as is compatible with humanity.

When each does to others as he would be done by, the millennium, so much talked of, will have come.