ted Bundy, and nearly everyone laughed.

'"Christian" is right,' sneered Owen. 'You've got some title to call
yourself a Christian, haven't you? As for the happiness that passes
all understanding, it certainly passes MY understanding how you can be
happy when you believe that millions of people are being tortured in
Hell; and it also passes my understanding why you are not ashamed of
yourself for being happy under such circumstances.'

'Ah, well, you'll find it all out when you come to die, mate,' replied
Slyme in a threatening tone. 'You'll think and talk different then!'

'That's just wot gets over ME,' observed Harlow. 'It don't seem right
that after living in misery and poverty all our bloody lives, workin'
and slavin' all the hours that Gord A'mighty sends, that we're to be
bloody well set fire and burned in 'ell for all eternity! It don't
seem feasible to me, you know.'

'It's my belief,' said Philpot, profoundly, 'that when you're dead,
you're done for. That's the end of you.'

'That's what _I_ say,' remarked Easton. 'As for all this religious
business, it's just a money-making dodge. It's the parson's trade,
just the same as painting is ours, only there's no work attached to it
and the pay's a bloody sight better than ours is.'

'It's their livin', and a bloody good livin' too, if you ask me,' said
Bundy.

'Yes,' said Harlow; 'they lives on the fat o' the land, and wears the
best of everything, and they does nothing for it but talk a lot of
twaddle two or three times a week. The rest of the time they spend
cadgin' money orf silly old women who thinks it's a sorter fire
insurance.'

'It's an old sayin' and a true one,' chimed in the man on the upturned
pail. 'Parsons and publicans is the worst enemies the workin' man ever
'ad. There may be SOME good 'uns, but they're few and far between.'

'If I could only get a job like the Harchbishop of Canterbury,' said
Philpot, solemnly, 'I'd leave this firm.'

'So would I,' said Harlow, 'if I was the Harchbishop of Canterbury, I'd
take my pot and brushes down the office and shy 'em through the bloody
winder and tell ole Misery to go to 'ell.'

'Religion is a thing that don't trouble ME much,' remarked Newman; 'and
as for what happens to you after death, it's a thing I believe in
leavin' till you comes to it--there's no sense in meetin' trouble
'arfway. All the things they tells us may be true or they may not, but
it takes me all my time to look aft