ines of our 'Reformed Protestant Church,' call everything but
gentlemen those who lay claim to the equivocal privilege of feasting
periodically upon the body and blood of Omnipotence. The pains taken by
Protestants to show from Scripture, Reason and Nature, that Priests
cannot change lumps of dough into the body, and bumpers of wine into the
blood of their God, are well known and appreciated. But the Roman
Catholics are neither to be argued nor laughed out of their 'awful
doctrine' of the real presence, to which they cling with desperate
earnestness. Proselytes are apt to misunderstand, and make sad mistakes
about, that doctrine. Two cases are cited by Hume in his 'Essay of the
Natural History of Religion,' which he announces as 'pleasant stories,
though somewhat profane.' According to one, a Priest gave inadvertently,
instead of the sacrament, a counter, which had by accident fallen among
the holy wafers. The communicant waited patiently for some time,
expecting that it would dissolve on his tongue, but finding that it
still remained entire, he took it off. I hope, said he, to the Priest,
you have not made a mistake; I hope you have not given me God the
Father, he is so hard and tough that there is no swallowing him. The
other story is thus related. A famous General, at that time in the
Muscovite Service, having come to Paris for the recovery of his wounds,
brought along with him a young Turk whom he had taken prisoner. Some of
the doctors of the Sorbonne (who are altogether as positive as the
dervises of Constantinople) thinking it a pity that the poor Turk should
be damned for want of instruction, solicited Mustapha very hard to turn
Christian, and promised him for encouragement, plenty of good wine in
this world and paradise in the next. These allurements were too powerful
to be resisted; and therefore having been well instructed and
catechised, he at last agreed to receive the sacraments of baptism and
Lord's Supper. Nevertheless, the Priest to make everything sure and
solid, still continued his instructions, and began the next day with the
usual question, _How many God's are there? None at all_, replied
Benedict, for that was his new name. _How! None at all?_ Cries the
Priest. _To be sure_, said the honest proselyte, _you have told me all
along that there it but one God; and yesterday I ate him._

This is sufficiently ridiculous; and yet if we fairly consider the whole
question of divinity there will be found no mo