which unbelievers form for themselves."

After explaining, therefore, what those doctrines were; when they would appear not to be so strange and unreasonable as they had imagined them to be; I should be ready to refute any objection, and solve any difficulty that they might think proper to bring forward.

When I proposed this condition, I was well aware that no reasoning nor argument could convince an unbeliever, unless the grace of God accompanied the means used. But I regretted to see four of my countrymen, young men of extensive information and respectable character, who had received a sound and religious education in their youth, influenced so far by their intercourse with the world, and their neglect of all religious duties and studies, as to express such sentiments of unbelief. I hoped that, at least, I should be able to convey to them some important and interesting information on these subjects, which might be useful to them then, or at some future period of their life, by exciting their attention to the study of the Scriptures, convincing them that many of the objections, which appeared to them strong and unanswerable, were the consequences of their own want of information. When

I stated that I would refute every objection and solve any difficulty which they might feel, I did not presume to be able to settle every difficulty which might arise to a speculative mind with regard to many points of theoretical theology; but I knew so well the strength of evidence by which Christianity is environed, and, above all, the extent of their knowledge,―or rather, their ignorance of the subject,—that I was nowise apprehensive of the result. Indeed, it is impossible for a thinking and well-informed mind, (if even a small attention be bestowed on the subject,) to do more than DOUBT of the truth of Christianity. From long experience, I had found, that whether the deist be a man of rank, or of eminence in philosophy or literature, or whatever station in society he may hold, his violence in opposition to the Christian religion, is in proportion to his ignorance of its nature.

It was these considerations and hopes, which led me to propose the condition of being permitted to speak, without being interrupted by their objections, till time had been allowed me for giving a full and correct explanation of the doctrines of Christianity. My four friends agreed to the condition, and we appointed our first meeting

to be held at the house of M., at one o'clock the following Sunday.

M., the gentleman at whose house we were to meet, called in the interim on Lord Byron; and, among other things, mentioned to his lordship the object of our intended meeting. His lordship expressed a wish to be present, and said, that he also would willingly be converted, if he could, as he felt no happiness in his present unsettled notions on religion. "You know," added his lordship, "I am reckoned a black sheep ;" and, after a pause, he continued, " yet not so black as the world believes me, nor worse than others." He said, he would not intrude himself, as he did not know me; but M. said, that he had no doubt that I should readily consent that his lordship should be present, and would, indeed, be very sensible of the honour he did us. On the nature and object of the meeting being further explained to him, he said that he would convince me, that, if he had not faith, he had at least patience, and that he would listen the prescribed time without interrupting me. On the next day M. communicated to me his lordship's wishes, and, though I had never spoken to his lordship, and little anticipated such a hearer, I readily consented to

his being present, notwithstanding my fears that a consideration of his reputation and rank would embarrass me, more than was desirable, in the execution of a task, at all times, and under the most favourable circumstances, arduous and difficult. The following day his lordship sent his compliments, with a message to M., that he was sorry that he could not attend the meeting on Sunday, as he intended that day to embark his horses, and proceed to the Morea. Towards

evening, however, he again sent a message to M., that he had changed his mind, and would be present at the meeting. We afterwards learned that his lordship had really intended to embark his horses on the Sunday; but on his mentioning his design to the captain of the ship,—a stout, rough Englishman, who had the prejudices, if not the spirit of religion, he told his lordship, "No, my lord, you must not play these tricks with me ; there shall be no heathenish and outlandish doings on board my ship on a Sunday." This refusal of the captain paved the way, it is probable, to circumstances, which induced his lordship to change his mind, and, with other causes, led him, instead of hastening his departure, to remain four months in Cephalonia.

The rumour of the meeting now spread through the town, and it was reported that there was to be a discussion between myself and the other gentlemen on the truth of the Christian religion. This produced some uneasiness in the minds of some of my friends, lest they should be branded as infidels and enemies to religion. To counteract this, it was given out that the object of the meeting was simply to hear me explain some of my peculiar notions on religion, as if I had notions different from those held by every sound Christian. I could not help smiling at the gloss which was thus ingeniously put on the matter, and was pleased to find that, though my friends could, in private, dispute, object to, and deride the religion of Christ, and especially those who believed in it and endeavoured to regulate their life by its principles, yet they retained so much of the impressions of their early education, and had such a fear of the censure of the world, as to feel it a reproach to be called unbelievers. It is just to say, that my friends, with one exception, were not professed unbelievers. It is true they did not believe in all the Scriptures, nor in all the doctrines (one rejecting this point, and another that); and though, in general, they seemed to take