by a noble hand. I have since examined the originals with a more
discerning eye, and shall not hesitate to pronounce, that Bossuet is
indeed a master of all the weapons of controversy. In the
Exposition, a specious apology, the orator assumes, with consummate
art, the tone of candour and simplicity; and the ten-horned monster
is transformed, at his magic touch, into the milk-white hind, who
must be loved as soon as she is seen. In the History, a bold and
well-aimed attack, he displays, with a happy mixture of narrative
and argument, the faults and follies, the changes and contradictions
of our first reformers; whose variations (as he dexterously
contends) are the mark of historical error, while the perpetual
unity of the catholic church is the sign and test of infallible
truth. To my present feelings it seems incredible that I should
ever believe that I believed in transubstantiation. But my
conqueror oppressed me with the sacramental words, "Hoc est corpus
meum," and dashed against each other the figurative half-meanings of
the protestant sects: every objection was resolved into omnipotence;
and after repeating at St. Mary's the Athanasian creed, I humbly
acquiesced in the mystery of the real presence.

"To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry,
Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call,
To pay great sums, and to compound the small,
For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for all?"

No sooner had I settled my new religion than I resolved to profess
myself a catholic. Youth is sincere and impetuous; and a momentary
glow of enthusiasm had raised me above all temporal considerations.