"A really conscientious man," continued the man of law, "is just the worst witness that can be brought on to the stand. He has so many qualifications to make, and is so afraid that he shall not state every thing precisely as it is, he fritters his whole testimony away. A legal friend of mine told me the other day that he had just lost a cause by having a student of divinity as a witness. When he conversed with him in private, he thought his testimony would be entirely conclusive, but when sworn he made so many qualifications to all he stated, such as—'if he recollected correctly'—'if he heard correctly'—'if he did not receive a false impression,'—and ten thousand other hypotheses, which so weakened his testimony as to render it good for nothing."
Again the conversation went back to the question as to what constitutes the substance of Christianity. One of the gentlemen remarked.
"In my view the whole of it is summed up in this precept—'Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you.' Whoever acts on this principle is a Christian; and I don't care what he believes about the Trinity, or atonement, or any of the other mysteries of faith. Let him be a Unitarian, or Trinitarian, or believe what he chooses about the Deity, if he acts on this principle he will do well enough, and need not trouble himself about matters of faith."
Another of the group responded—"This is undoubtedly true—it is in accordance with common sense; but some hold strange views. A lady of my acquaintance, the other day, was expressing great anxiety about the salvation of a certain acquaintance of hers. This acquaintance, though somewhat of a fashionable woman, and not particularly religious, is nevertheless a most lovely and estimable character. I replied to the lady expressing this anxiety, 'If you think she is in danger, I am sure there is not much hope for me.' She looked very grave, and shook her head as though she thought my case wholly desperate. Now I think it is horrible for people to be cherishing such opinions about their neighbours—looking upon all the community around them as going infallibly to an eternal hell, unless they have a certain species of faith, which is supposed to ensure to those who have it the favour of God, and everlasting life. I believe this is all a mystic dream, and whoever acts on the principle 'of doing to others, as we would they should do to us,' may with perfect safety give to the winds all apprehensions about salvation, and all controversies about doctrines, and particular forms of faith."
The individual who uttered these sentiments was the very person who had remarked that "it was hard work for any one to be an infidel."
To me it seemed astonishing, that intelligent men, who knew any thing of the scriptures, could hold the views that had been broadly expressed, and yet suppose that they were not infidels. I was more than ever convinced that men might be learned in science, in law, in medicine, in politics, and yet be profoundly ignorant of the great design and prominent features of the gospel.