s are we, that we soon lay our
eyes on her painted beauty again and our heads in her loathsome lap; our
heads on that block over which the axe hangs by an angry hair. "She will
talk with any man." No doubt; but, then, it takes two to make a talk,
and the sad thing is that there are few men among us so wise, so
steadfast, and so experienced in her ways that they will not on occasion
let Madam Bubble talk her talk to them, and talk back again to her. The
oldest saint, the oftenest sold and most dearly redeemed sinner, needs to
suspect himself to the end, till he is clear out of Madam Bubble's
enchanted ground and for ever over that river of deliverance which shall
sweep Madam Bubble and all her daughters into the dead sea for ever.

"The grey-haired saint may fail at last,
The surest guide a wanderer prove;
Death only binds us fast
To the bright shore of love."

4. "She highly commends the rich," the guide goes on about Madam Bubble,
"and if there be one cunning to get money in any place she will speak
well of him from house to house." "The world," says Faber, "is not
altogether matter, nor yet altogether spirit. It is not man only, nor
Satan only, nor is it exactly sin. It is an infection, an inspiration,
an atmosphere, a life, a colouring matter, a pageantry, a fashion, a
taste, a witchery. None of all these names suit it, and all of them suit
it. Meanwhile its power over the human creation is terrific, its
presence ubiquitous, its deceitfulness incredible. It can find a home
under every heart beneath the poles. It is wider than the catholic
church, and it is masterful, lawless, and intrusive within it. We are
all living in it, breathing it, acting under its influence, being cheated
by its appearances, and unwarily admitting its principles." Let young
ministers who wish to preach to their people on the World--after studying
what the Preacher, and the Saviour, and John, and John Bunyan say about
the World,--still read Faber's powerful chapter in his _Creator and
Creature_. Yes; Madam Bubble finds a home for herself in every heart
beneath the poles. The truth is Madam Bubble has no home, as she has no
existence, but in human hearts. And all that Solomon, and our Saviour,
and John, and John Bunyan, and Frederick Faber say about the world and
about Madam Bubble they really say about the heart of man. It is we, you
and I, my brethren, who so highly commend the rich. It is we ourselves
he