A German writer relates that at a literary gathering at the home of Baron von Holbach, where the most celebrated infidels of the age used to assemble, the gentlemen present were one day commenting on the absurd, foolish and childish things with which the Holy Scriptures, as they maintained, abound. But the French philosopher and infidel, Diderot, who had himself taken no small part in the conversation, suddenly put a period to it by saying, "But it is wonderful, gentlemen, it is wonderful! I know no man in France who can write and speak with such ability. In spite of all the evil which we have said, and undoubtedly with good reason, of this book, I do not believe that you, any of you, could compose a narrative so simple, and at the same time so elevated and so affecting, as the narrative of the sufferings and death of Christ—a narrative exerting so wide an influence and awakening so deep and universal feeling, and the power of which after so many hundred years would still be the same." This unlooked for remark filled every one with astonishment, and was followed by a protracted silence.—Selected.