INFIDELITY TESTED BY FACT.

BY THE REV. SAMUEL MANNING, OF PROME. No. 8.

SUMMARY.

The system of facts and doctrines, known as christianity, claims to be at once true and divine. The object of the foregoing series of papers has been to bring these claims to a historical test,-to enquire whether the acknowledged facts of secular history confute or confirm these pretensions.

We found that the age when christianity came into existence was one, with the events and characteristics of which we are perfectly familiar; and which was, beyond all parallel, unfavourable to the rise, and still more to the success, of such a system; being an age of all but universal infidelity. Still more unfavourable to its success were the circumstances of its Author and Hero, —a Jew, who had suffered capital punishment, in the form reserved only for the felon and the slave. Whilst the fact, that the persons, who first asserted that this Jewish malefactor came to establish the kingdom of Heaven upon earth, belonged to the same despised nation, would seem to render the success of their project morally impossible. Yet, in the course of a very few years, they had overcome both infidelity and prejudice, and overrun the world with their doctrine. If we look more closely at the course pursued by these first preachers, their conduct and their success will, on the supposition of imposture, appear yet more inexplicable. It was not in a distant country, or after the lapse of years, that they claimed divine honours for their Master; but at the very spot and time at which the events referred to took place, and where they were perfectly notorious; where detection would have been most easy, and imposture most difficult. ceivers could scarcely have acted thus. Besides, no reason can be assigned why they should have attempted imposition in the matter. They gained nothing, and lost every thing, by it. Their testimony exposed them to daily insult, outrage, and death. Immense numbers languished out their lives in dungeons, and expired at the stake, as the penalty of their, so called,

De

obstinacy. Now, when we remember that there is not a particle of opposing evidence, can we do otherwise than admit that the facts thus attested are proved? Arbitrarily to reject such testimony, is to do violence to the laws of evidence-is irrational and absurd.

But Christianity consists of doctrines as well as facts, or, in other words, the facts are said to embody and teach truths which, when received into the hearts of men, become so influential there, as to be worthy of a divine original. If we submit these doctrinal claims to the same historical test, we find that the truths embodied in the life, and taught in the ministry, of Christ, have shewn themselves to be adapted to the universal heart of man; and that, under all forms of social development, and all degrees of mental and moral culture, they have actually exerted an influence unparalleled in the history of systems, and altogether unaccountable on the supposition that the writers of the gospel history were also its inventors. Its continuance, too, is not less marvellous and unprecedented than its universality. Its existence in the world, as an influential system, so many ages after its promulgation, marks it out at once from all other creeds. They can boast of a duration approaching this, only among the stagnant nations of the East. Its continuance for eighteen centuries, through the fluctuations and storms of the western world, amid which all other systems of philosophy and religion have been shipwrecked, is altogether without parallel. The difficulty of believing that a system of falsehood could have survived so long, is still further increased, as we observe that throughout the whole of that period it has been the object of ceaseless hostility and assault. It is scarcely credible that a fabulous legend, or a cunningly devised fable, could have outlived so long continued an attack. The unbeliever may, indeed, point to periods when his assaults upon it seem, for a time at least, to have triumphed. But the fact that such successes have only been gained over the gospel when perverted or obscured, and that every return to the purity of the gospel, has always been attended with a revival of faith in it, turns the argument against the objector, and tends to prove

that the system itself must be true and divine. This conclusion is still further confirmed by its happy influences, its beneficial results. It has civilized the savage, tamed the barbarian, purified the licentious, shewn itself the uncompromising foe of all vice and oppression, the unflinching advocate of liberty and virtue. If we are to test a tree by its fruits, and a system by its results, this last test must prove decisive of the question at issue.

The history of Christ and his apostles proves that they could not have been impostors. The influence exerted by their teachings, in all countries, through all subséquent ages, proves that they could have been neither impostors nor fanatics. The only alternative left us, the only conclusion to which we can come, consistently with the facts of the case, is, that Christ was, as he claimed to be, a teacher sent from God, speaking the words of truth and life.

THE BAG OF WHEAT.

AN AMERICAN STORY.

"So it seems we have got a thief in our settlement," remarked Mrs. Green to a company of ladies who were assembled around a quilt, each busily plying her needle.

"I should hope not," said Mrs. Grey; "I have never heard of a theft being committed in this neighbourhood, and we are all excessively careless, leaving our doors unfastened day and night, and our wash out for days together, and never once dreaming that any thing could be stolen."

"That is true," replied Mrs. Green. "We have never had a lock or bolt upon our door; but it becomes us to be a little cautious now."

"What has happened, Mrs. Green?" enquired Mrs. Lacey; "I think you should tell us what you mean."

"Well then," said Mrs. Green, "though they talk of keeping quiet as the surest method of detecting the thief, I see no harm in telling it, for there can be no doubt as to who the wretch is.

"You must know that Mr. Frost put up six bags full of wheat, to take to mill, last Saturday morning, but something prevented his going; and when he went to the barn yesterday to take it away, one bag was missing. So you see it must have been stolen between Saturday and yesterday, which was Monday."

"But who is suspected of the theft?" asked one.

"Oh, as to that, you know, as Mrs. Grey says, we have never had any dishonest people amongst us; so it must be the poor family that moved into Mr. Frost's old house last month. Mary called on them soon after they moved in, and she says they

looked miserably-having little or no furni ture, and that little out of order-that the man sat writing, while his wife lay on the bed, and a growing girl, tricked out in city finery, was nursing an infant, and hearing two little ragged fellows read. And Mary noticed that when the boys had done reading, the youngest whispered to his sister, 'Now, Alice, I am a good boy, will you give me a piece of bread?' And the girl whispered, 'Wait awhile, Charley;' and she kissed him, Mary said, to hide the tears that gushed from her eyes. Now, if they are so very poor, you know, they might be tempted to steal; for it must be very hard to hear children cry for bread and have none to give them."

"Yes," put in Mrs. Lacey, "and my husband has often said he wondered if they had anything to eat, and we would willingly have given them something, only they seemed so proud and stuck up like, we were afraid to offer them anything for fear they would take it as an insult."

"That's just the way we have felt about them," remarked Mrs. Grey; "and if they would have come among us, and told us that they were in want, we should not have let them suffer. But so it is. The pride that will not let a man work, or ask relief of his neighbour, often drives him to dishonest and criminal practices."

"Well," resumed Mrs. Green, “I hope this affair will drive such people from our neighbourhood, for Mr. Frost intends to find out the truth of the business, and then tell them to make themselves scarce, or abide the decision of the law."

There was in the company of quilters, a maiden of near fifty years of age, who, during the colloquy, uttered not a word;

but now she turned her head aside, took off her spectacles, wiped first her eyes and somewhat faded cheeks and then her glasses, heaved a deep sigh, and murmured, "I fear that we have sinned against these strangers. We have permitted them to suffer in our midst, and now impute crime to them merely because we suppose them to be destitute. Let us at least be charitable in this last case; they may be worthy people, and there may be some mistake about the bag of wheat; and, even if they have been driven to take what was not theirs, I fear the sin lies at our own door. We should have visited them, notwithstanding their gentry airs and city usages.'

As Aunt Sarah was regarded an oracle, the whole circle assented to her verdict, and it was settled that Mr. Frost should be persuaded to let this one offence rest for the present; and Aunt Sarah and Mrs. Lacey were deputed as a kind of committee to call on the strange family the next day, and reconnoitre. Now a call, in the country, means to drop in a little while after noon, lay off your bonnet and shawl, take out your work, and sit like one of the family, working and chatting until evening or bedtime, partaking of such fare as the house affords.

And who were these poor people concerning whom such suspicions were afloat?

I will give you a sketch of their history. Mr. Howard was the son of an independent farmer, who was owner of a superior tract of land, an elegant and comfortable house, a fine stock of cattle, and a large family of handsome and intelligent children. These were all, from childhood, accustomed to healthy labour, plentiful board, comfortable lodging, and substantial raiment, besides many little elegancies of dress and furniture. As they arrived at proper ages they were well educated, and provided with situations, in which it was reasonable to suppose that they might, in time, make themselves fortunes. One studied medicine, two read law, one being pious became a minister, and this one, William Howard, served his seven years as clerk in a dry goods store. About the time he attained his majority, his father died, and the property that had been riches in one man's possession, was but small portions when divided amongst ten children. However, William's share enabled him to enter, as junior partner, into a respectable mercantile firm. He now thought himself authorized

to marry the daughter of the merchant with whom he served his clerkship, and with whom he was now a partner; and as the girl loved him, and he was honest, industrious, handsome, and a real gentleman in his deportment, her parents cheerfully consented to their union.

Alice was a lovely girl, sweet-tempered, and highly accomplished. They commenced house-keeping in a style of simple elegance, suited to their standing and expectations, and, during several years, enjoyed the sweets of contented competence and reasonable prosperity.

But reverses came. Loss followed loss; and the wealthy house of Carroll and Howard became insolvent. Misfortune seemed never weary of persecuting them, and blow followed blow, until Mr. Carroll found rest in the grave-and Mr. Howard found lodging in a small cottage, in the outskirts of the city. He soon found employment as a clerk, at a small salary, and if Mrs. Howard had received a domestic education, might have lived comfortably. But her parents had fallen into the fashionable error of modern education, and, while they spared no expense in accomplishing their daughter, utterly neglected that which renders woman good and valuable on earth. The young ladies were taught to conceal, under the veil of politeness, every defect of temper; to please, to dazzle, and to seek admiration; but the virtues and graces that constitute the wife and mother, and the domestic education which renders a woman capable of managing her house, were passed by as of no consequence, or avoided as degrading.

Mrs. Howard was therefore incapable of performing the labours of her household, and so the servants were retained; consequently, while there were more mouths to feed, and less economy in the housekeeping, there were wages to be paid weekly.

Their eldest daughter, Alice, had been for the last three years an inmate of the most fashionable school in the vicinity, but now she was forced to come home and endeavour to turn her accomplishments to account in some way; the eldest son was removed from the seminary and entered as errand boy in a store, and still Mr. Howard's income did not meet the expenses of his family. What was to be done? His brothers had families of their own, and were scattered over the far West, from Prairie Du Chien to New Orleans. He could get no aid from any of them.

The Carrolls were all involved in the fall of their house. What could he do?

It was on a Saturday evening, the weekly bills were paid, but the balance was too small to purchase bread and tea for the Sabbath, and the quarter's rent would be due in a few days. Mrs. Howard, crushed in health and spirit, lay sobbing on her husband's shoulder, while her daughter, Alice, was vainly endeavouring to sooth the infant which was crying for the milk which 'neither the mother's bosom nor the father's hand could supply.

"My dear poor wife," the miserable man said at length, "there is no use in our remaining here, and struggling thus against misfortune. I know there is a living for us somewhere in the world. If you are willing, poor love, we will sell our remaining furniture, pay our landlord, and go West, into some new settlement. The people in such places are kind hearted and free from pride; we can get a cottage and garden spot for a trifling rent, I can get some employment, you and Alice can do our house-work, and if the worst come, I know how to work on a farm, and can get employment as a day labourer."

The wretched wife groaned, but she answered, "We will make the trial."

Mrs. Howard would not have been so utterly deserted in her adversity if she had been less haughty in her palmy days. True, 'she did not intend to assume a false position, but she actually believed, as she had been taught, that she was better than those who were a grade below her father in point of wealth; and those who were degraded by a necessity to labour, she looked down upon as from an immeasurable height. Surely they were not of her species, and could have neither feeling or affections in common with her. Adversity had not humbled her, and she still claimed the homage which had been paid to her wealth, and not to her. For now that the golden orb of wealth no longer threw his glorious radiance upon her, she found herself a very inferior orb amid the galaxy of the female world. It was rank, and fashion, and dress, and showy accomplishments, that had constituted her charms; these had forsaken her, and she was only an ordinary woman.

Mr. Howard gathered the poor remains of his utter wreck together, paid off conscientiously all demands against him, and with the trifle which remained to him, turned his face westward.

Sickness among the children detained him on the road, and when he reached our set

tlement he was destitute. Leaving his family at an inn, he walked out to seek a shelter for them. His appearance excited wonder, and, it must be added, suspicion; however, he at length succeeded in obtaining permis. sion to occupy for the present Mr. Frost's old house; which, although it answered his own family very well until by industry and economy he had been enabled to build a better, was now deemed, by the family who left it scarcely a year previous, hardly habitable. But then Mr. Frost did not require any rent. If they could live in it, they were welcome.

But what were such fashionable people doing in that old house in our settlement? Some thought that they were unfortunates, and some whispered that they were probably fugitives from justice.

These suspicions were strengthened by the conduct of the family, who seemed to shun all familiar intercourse with their neighbours; but as country people always have plenty of employment for every hour, curiosity cannot be largely indulged, and wonders are short lived amongst them; s0 the Howards and their peculiar circumstances soon ceased to be a topic of conversation, or of wondering speculation. But now, the circumstance of the lost bag of wheat brought them once more before the community.

But while the quilters at Mrs. Grey's were thus hazarding conjecture respecting them, how was the real state of affairs at Mr. Howard's? We will relate only what Aunt Sarah and her companion reported after their visit of enquiry. They found the house in the greatest disorder, and the family in the keenest possible distress. Mrs. Howard was moaning and shrieking hysterically; while Alice, with a voice choked and broken by sobs and tears, was essaying every art to soothe her. Mr. Howard was pacing the floor, with hands and teeth hard clenched, and face white as death; while the little ones were huddled together in a corner crying piteously. Mr. Howard turned towards the visitors as they appeared at his open door, but Aunt Sarah's meek and gentle countenance checked the wrath that seemed rising to his lips, and he staggered back and sank upon a bench like a person fainting. Aunt Sarah approached Mrs. Howard, and tenderly enquired the cause of the sorrow that so afflicted the family. But the suffering lady turned from her, and seemed not to desire her sympathy. At length one of the little boys came forward,