nversation of the woman, who was a Protestant, and who
seemed very desirous that we should afford him some relief in a state
bordering on complete despair. Having remained some time in the parlor, we
at length heard a noise in the adjoining room. We proposed to enter, which
was assented to by the woman, who opened the door for us. A more wretched
being in appearance I never beheld. He was lying in a bed sufficiently
decent in itself, but at present besmeared with filth; his look was that
of a man greatly tortured in mind, his eyes haggard, his countenance
forbidding, and his whole appearance that of one whose better days had
been one continued scene of debauch. His only nourishment was milk punch,
in which he indulged to the full extent of his weak state. He had partaken
very recently of it, as the sides and corners of his mouth exhibited very
unequivocal traces of it, as well as of blood which had also followed in
the track and left its mark on the pillow. Upon their making known the
object of their visit, Paine interrupted the speaker by saying, 'That's
enough, sir, that's enough. I see what you would be about. I wish to hear
no more from you, sir; my mind is made up on that subject. I look upon the
whole of the Christian scheme to be a tissue of lies, and Jesus Christ to
be nothing more than a cunning knave and imposter. Away with you, and your
God, too! Leave the room instantly! All that you have uttered are lies,
filthy lies, and if I had a little more time I would prove it, as I did
about your imposter, Jesus Christ.' Among the last utterances that fell
upon the ears of the attendants of this dying infidel, and which have been
recorded in history, were the words, 'My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me?' "

-------------------------------------

"Some thousand famous writers come up in this century to be forgotten in
the next. But the silver cord of the Bible is not loosened, nor its golden
bowl broken, though time chronicles his tens of centuries passed by....
You can trace the path of the Bible across the world, from the day of
Pentecost to this day. As a river springs up in the heart of a sandy
continent, having its father in the skies; as the stream rolls on, making
in that arid waste a belt of verdure wherever it turns its way; creating
palm groves and fertile plains, where the smoke of the cottage curls up at
eventide, and marble cities send the gleam of their splendor far into die
sky--