That unbelief very commonly springs from the heart or from pride of intellect has been frequently demonstrated. The Outlook of January 11 publishes an account of a striking instance of it in the experience of the eminent French writer, Francis Coppee. In an article on Jean d'Arc, Coppee says of himself:

      There was a time when I should have scornfully shrugged my shoulders at the mention of miracles. Yet, if there be an almighty Being, the Maker of all things visible and invisible, he must be superior to all those laws which he has himself impressed upon his work; and therefore no miracle can be impossible to him. To-day I am no longer arrogant enough to overlook this obvious truth. A time came when I lay on what seemed likely to become my death-bed. I looked into the grave; and I felt the craving for immortality. Then I set myself to read the Gospels once again. I read them as they ought to be read--with a simple, open heart--and in every page, in every word of that sublime story, I saw truth shine. And consequently I now believe firmly in all the gospel miracles, chronicled as they are by the evangelists, with a clearness and a minuteness of detail which afford the most evident proof of truthfulness. Yes, Jesus did give sight to the blind and life to the dead. As he passed on his brief journey through this world he scattered these blessings by the way to show that he was indeed the Son of God. Thus did he found the religion which during nineteen centuries has given peace to all men of good will. The faith in him which I have now attained I hope henceforward to keep, and to see it constantly and steadily strengthening unto my life's end.

      The fact of having been suspended for a short time over the grave, and then placed again on his feet to live a little longer, took all the intellectual pride out of this [375] man, and caused him to look at the gospel narratives with a level head. The result was the same unquestioning acceptance of what he read that is common with level-headed people the world over. It might be a good thing, in the case of many other infidels, to pray the Lord to scare them up in a similar way. Wicked men, who have learned to enjoy their wickedness, can seldom be persuaded to turn to the Lord unless something occurs to scare them nearly to death about their eternal prospects. It is well enough to say, as some men are so fond of saying, that you can not scare men into the kingdom of God; for in a certain sense this is true; but it is equally true that there are many men who will never enter the kingdom, or seriously think of doing so, until you scare them. You must thunder the terrors of the final judgment in their ears, as Jesus did, and as Paul did, if you are ever to make them repent.

      A case similar to the one recounted above occurred in Kentucky not many years ago. A young brother whom we shall call Tom, who was a zealous Christian and ever ready for an argument in defense of his faith, had occasion to spend the night with a relative whom he called Cousin George. Cousin George was an atheist, and was also fond of argument. At the supper table he began on Tom about his superstitious belief in an invisible and intangible God. Tom took up the gauntlet, and they had it up and down till bedtime. Late in the night Tom heard a commotion downstairs and the groaning of some one in great pain. He hurriedly dressed and went down. He found Cousin George rolling about on the bed with a desperate case of cramp colic, and calling loudly on the Lord with every breath. "O Lord, O God, have mercy on me." Tom walked up to the bedside, joined with those who were rubbing him, and said [376] "Don't call on him, Cousin George; there ain't any." At this Cousin George would grit his teeth and hold in awhile, but when another sharp pain would strike him, he would again cry out, "O God, have mercy." Again Tom would say, "Don't call on him, Cousin George; there ain't any;" and so he tormented Cousin George until the doctor came and gave him an opiate.

[SEBC 375-377]