AN OFFER.

Nothing were easier than to have made this book a long one; but that was not the writer’s object:  as well because of the musty Greek proverb about long books; which in every time and country are sure never to be read through by one in a thousand; as because it is always wiser to suggest than to exhaust a topic; which may be as “a fruit-tree yielding fruit after its kind whose seed is in itself.”  The writer then intended only to touch upon a few salient points, and not to discuss every question, however they might crowd upon his mind:  time and space alike with mental capabilities forbade an effort so gigantic:  added to which, such a course seemed to be unnecessary, as the rule of probability, thus illustrated, might be applied by others in every similar instance.  Still, as the errand of this book is usefulness, and its author’s hope is, under Heaven, to do good, one personal hint shall here be thrown upon the highway.  Without arrogating to myself the wisdom or the knowledge to solve one in twenty of the doubts possible to be propounded; without also designing even to attempt such solutions, unless well assured of the genuine anxiety of the doubter; and preliminarizing the consideration, that a fitting diffidence in the advocate’s own powers is no reason why he should not make wide efforts in his holy cause; that, such reasonable essays to do good have no sort of brotherhood with a fanatical Spiritual Quixotism; and that, to my own apprehensions, the doubts of a rationalizing mind are in the nature of honourable foes, to be treated with delicacy, reverence, and kindness, rather than with a cold distance and an ill-concealed contempt; preliminarizing, lastly, the thought—­“Who is sufficient for these things?”—­I nevertheless thus offer, according to the grace and power given to me, my best but humble efforts so far to dissipate the doubts of some respecting any scriptural fact, as may lie within the province of showing or attempting to show its previous credibility.  This is not a challenge to the curious casuist or the sneering infidel; but an invitation to the honest mind harassed by unanswered queries:  no gauntlet thrown down, but a brother’s hand stretched out.  Such questions, if put to the writer, through his publisher by letter, may find their reply in a future edition:  supposing, that is to say, that they deserve an answer, whether as regards their own merits or the temper of the mind who doubts; and supposing also that the writer has the power and means to answer them discreetly.  It is only a fair rule of philanthropy (and that without arrogating any unusual “strength”) to “bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves:”  and nothing would to me give greater happiness than to be able, as I am willing, to remove any difficulties lying in the track of Faith before a generous mind.  I hang out no glistening holly-bush a-flame with its ostentatious berries as promising good wine; but rather over my portal is the humbler and hospitable mistletoe, assuring every wearied pilgrim in the way, that though scanty be the fare, he shall find a hearty welcome.