our leading philosophers and readers of
the future with regard to the same engrossing topic. For England will
ever be the wonder and despair of other nations in its capacity,
no matter with what seriousness its hands are filled, for pursuing
controversial distractions.

To run Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT to earth was no easy matter, for in these
days he is behind every scene, and no statesman, however new, can
get along without his counsel or correction. But, since to the
good _Punch_ man difficulties exist only as obstacles of which the
circumvention acts as intellectual cocktails or stimuli, the task was
accomplished. Mr. BENNETT agreed that the book of the other famous
Essex fictionist was a meritorious and ingenious work, but he found it
far from exhaustive. The idea of God, he held, still needed handling
in a capable efficient way. What was wrong with religion was, he said,
its mystery; if only it could be pruned of nonsense and made
practical for the man in the street, it might become really useful. He
personally had not yet thought finally on the subject of God, having
just now more tasks on hand (including a new play and universal
supervision) than he could count on the Five Fingers, but directly he
had time he meant to attend to the matter and polish it off. It was a
case where his intervention was clearly called for, since omniscience
could be handled only by omniscience.

The _Punch_ man has, however, to admit himself beaten in the matter
of Sir OLIVER LODGE. On inquiring at Birmingham University he was told
that the illustrious Principal was absent, no one knew where, but it
was believed that he was visiting the higher slopes of Mount Sinai.
All that the _Punch_ man could obtain was one of the black velvet
skull-caps which the seer wears, but, as it refused to give up any of
its secrets, he must confess to failure--at any rate until Sir OLIVER
returns.

Being in Brummagem (as it has been wittily called), the _Punch_ man
bethought him of the Rev. R.J. CAMPBELL, once the very darling of the
new gods--in fact the arch neo-theologian. But Mr. CAMPBELL, erstwhile
so articulate and confident, had nothing to say. All he could do was
to lock himself for safety in his church and look through the keyhole
with his beautiful troubled wistful orbs.

Mr. G.K. CHESTERTON loomed up to a dizzy height amid a cloud of new
witnesses. Greeting the _Punch_ man, he laid aside his proofs.

"I was just deleting the abusive epithet 'Llo