sities, and Huxley's
hypothetical case goes far beyond every attested miracle. But I do say
that if Johannes Muller, or anyone else, alleged that he had seen a
centaur, Huxley would never think of investigating the absurdity.

Yet the allegation of, a great anatomist on such a matter is infinitely
more plausible than any miraculous story of the Christian religion. The
"centaurs" of faith were seen centuries ago by superstitious people; and
what is more, the relation of them was never made by the witnesses, but
always by other people, who generally lived a few generations at least
after the time.

What on earth are we to do with people who believe in "centaurs" on
such evidence, who make laws to protect their superstition, and appoint
priests at the public cost to teach the "centaur" science? The way to
answer this question is to ask another. How should we treat people who
believed that centaurs could be seen now? Why, of course, we should
laugh at them.

And that is how we should treat people who believe that men-horses ever
existed at all.

Does anybody ask that I shall seriously discuss whether an old woman
with a divining-rod can detect hidden treasures; whether Mr. Home
floated in the air or Mrs. Guppy sailed from house to house; whether
cripples are cured at Lourdes or all manner of diseases at Winifred's
Well? Must I patiently reason with a man who tells me that he saw water
turned into wine, or a few loaves and fishes turned into a feast for
multitudes, or dead men rise up from their graves? Surely not. I do what
every sensible man does. I recognise no obligation to reason with such
hallucinate mortals; I simply treat them with ridicule.

So with the past. Its delusions are no more entitled to respect than
those of to-day. Jesus Christ as a miracle-worker is just as absurd
as any modern pretender. Whether in the Bible, the Koran, the Arabian
Nights, Monte Christo, or Baron Munchausen, a tremendous "walker" is the
fit subject of a good laugh. And Freethinkers mean to enjoy their laugh,
as some consolation for the wickedness of superstition. The Christian
faith is such that it makes us laugh or cry. Are we wrong in preferring
to laugh?

There is an old story of a man who was plagued by the Devil. The fiend
was always dropping in at inconvenient times, and making the poor
fellow's life a hell on earth. He sprinkled holy water on the floor, but
by-and-bye the "old 'un" hopped about successfully on the dry spot