stance. But the soul, what is it? My body possesses a peculiar figure, and occupies a certain space in the universe; but can I show you the figure or dimensions of my soul? Every substance is composed of smaller particles of matter; and these again of atoms more minute, to an almost infinite divisibility. But can you divide idea? can you separate thought? matter will not act upon it what is it, then? what is this indescribable inhabitant of my material body, that governs all its actions, and controls even the minutest motion? Divest me of it, and I become an inanimate mass, incapable of the smallest degree of activity. The hand that is now employed in tracing these imperfect ideas, is but the mere vehicle of intellect. In truth, the immateriality of the soul so evidently appears, that to waste argument on the subject is like lighting tapers to assist the sun in illuminating the world. If the soul be immaterial, it follows, that it is immortal. It is an universal axiom that the effect partakes of the nature of the cause; an immortal being, therefore, would not create a soul for annihilation. Never be tempted, my dear friend, to renounce your immortality deprived of this soul-cheering hope, human nature is plunged at once into the abyss of absolute wretchedness. Take away the hope of immortality, and you plant thorns in the path, and shed an impervious gloom over the prospects of the virtuous. Erase this conviction from the heart, and you take away every incentive to virtue and moral rectitude. Then, dear Julia, let us not consider this question a matter of mere speculative curiosity; let us act with the deepest sincerity: let us humbly own our God: let us worship let us reverence: let us adore. Happy indeed are they, who can rely with filial confidence : on the favour of God. While the wretched sons and daughters of dissipation, in the pursuit of visionary pleasures, rush madly on in the career of folly, and to quiet the upbraidings of conscience, endeavour to persuade themselves that they are the mere mushrooms of a day, and renounce the glorious hope of happiness beyond the grave; how must the thought of death embitter all their pleasures! the grave to such is the ultimatum of despair. Darkness, clouds, and shadows, rest upon it. The keen conviction of their own immortality will at length overtake them, and how will they dare appear before the offended majesty of that God, whose very being they have denied. But suppose some few, indeed, so far immersed in infidelity as to retain their effrontery in the hour of death: shall we draw aside the curtain of eternity, and follow these deluded wretches to a world of spi rits? there the fond dream of annihilation is over; the infatuated immortals learn, that the God whom the Christian adores, possesses power sufficient to the continuance of their existence, and justice adeequate to the punishment of their crimes. On the other hand, observe the life and death of the Christian. Buoyed up by the prospect of immortality, he sustains affliction with manly fortitude. No changes of situation can affect a mind at peace; and when death approaches, it is the hour of triumph: then he lifts up his head, in assurance that his redemption is come. Like the mariner, who, after being tossed in a tempestuous sea, has brought his vessel to the desired haven, he looks back on the perils of his voyage, and smiles at the tempest that rides triumphant on the ocean. Adieu, my friend; remember that there is one in the universe on whom the light will never dawn, nor the evening close, without a prayer for you. Pray for yourself, and forget not your CAROLINE. LETTER III. A Christian is the highest style of man. WELL, dear Julia, how does the portrait of natural religion please you? Methinks I almost hear you exclaim in the language of the poet, "A Deity believed is joy begun. A Deity adored is joy advanced. Admitting the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul, thể principal objections to the Christian system vanish; but that we may trace the arch-fiend infidelity through |