iled. My natural, unreasoning, instinctive
horror of injustice and murder rendered the specious pleadings of
Atheistic utilitarianism powerless. And so on moral matters generally.

As a rule, Atheists succeed, in course of time, in vanquishing and
destroying their moral as well as their religious instincts, and then
they embrace the most revolting doctrines, and reconcile themselves to
the most appalling deeds. They look on marriage as irrational, and
regard modesty and chastity as vices. Shame is a weakness in their eyes,
and natural affections are irrational prejudices. Scruples against
lying, theft and murder, when any great good is to be gained by those
practices, are insanity. Gratitude, even to parents, is an absurdity.
Free indulgence, unlimited license, is a virtue. The curse of our race
is religion. The one great social evil is a surplus population; and the
prevention or destruction of children is the sum of social science and
virtue. The extinction of the weaker races, and the destruction of those
of every race who cannot contribute their share of wealth and pleasure
to the common stock, is the perfection of philosophy. In short, all the
old-fashioned principles of virtue, honor, conscience, generosity,
self-restraint, self-sacrifice, and natural affection are exploded, and
in their place there comes a black and hideous chaos of all indecencies
and immoralities, a boundless and bottomless abyss of all imaginable
and unspeakable horrors. I shudder when I think how near I came to this
hell of atheistical philosophy. My inability entirely to extinguish my
better instincts and affections, prevented me from plunging headlong
into its frightful depths. It was more than I could do to carry out the
atheistical principles of mere theoretical reasoning to its last
results. I was, thank God, on some points, always inconsistent, and my
inconsistency was my salvation. My heart preserved me in spite of my
head.

But if I could not carry out my principle of trusting to mere reasoning
to its full extent, why did I act on it at all? When I found that it led
to utter degradation and ruin, why did I not renounce it, and trust once
more in my native instincts? When I found myself obliged to follow my
heart in so many matters, why not follow it in all? I answer, I had not
a sufficient understanding of the matter. I wanted more light. But the
course of study on which the remarks of my dear good friend Mr. Mawson
led me to enter, l