me time; and since we are assured that we shall have
the whole of eternity to arrange matters in the next one, it leaves very
little time by comparison to devote to our duties in this.

There we are to have nothing to do but sing and be happy--twang a harp
and smile.

Here we have pain to alleviate, ignorance to dispel, innocence to
protect, disease to master, and crime to restrain and prevent. Here we
have the helpless to shield and guard and protect. Here we have homes to
make happy, the hearts of husbands and wives to make glad, the light
of love and trust to kindle in the eyes of children. Here is old age to
cheer and console. Here are orphans to educate and protect, widows to
comfort, and oppression to uproot.

There--nothing to do but look after yourself and manage your harp;
nobody to help--all will be perfect; nothing to learn--all will be wise;
no hearts to cheer--all will be happy. All that a mother will have to do
if she gets a little tired practicing on her lyre and feels gloomy will
be to just take a good look over the wall, and photograph on her eyes
the picture of her husband and children freshly dipped in oil and put
on the griddle, and she will come back to business perfectly satisfied,
take up her song where she left off, and praise the Lamb for his
infinite mercy. All eternity to learn how to fly round in a robe and
keep time with the orchestra! Why a deaf man could learn to do that in
fifty or sixty years, and then have all the rest of the time to spare.

We are here such a little while, there is so much to learn, there is so
much to do, there is so much to _undo_, that no man can afford to waste
his time on an infinite future of time, space, and leisure. Men cannot
afford to lose your best energies. "God" can get on very well without
them. Time is short, and needs are pressing; and this thing you
know--you can keep busy doing good right here. If there is a hereafter,
could there be a better preparation for it than that?

NOT WOMAN'S FRIEND.

After all that has preceded this page I need hardly do more with this
count of the last claim of "Theological Fiction" than simply say, if the
Bible is woman's best friend, then the clergy, without authority and in
violation of the precepts of their own guide, have been her worst enemy,
either through malice or ignorance; in either of which cases they are
and have always been unfit to dictate, to lead opinion, or to receive a
following as reliable gu