hs in his sleeve at his own public
performance. Perhaps he knows that God, as Napoleon said, is on the side
of the big battalions; just as, probably, every bishop knows that
Church corpses rot exactly like Dissenting corpses, although they lie in
consecrated ground. Priestly mummeries will last as long as there is
a demand for them. It is of little use to quarrel with this supply.
The Freethinker's duty is to lessen the demand.

CHRISTMAS IN HOLLOWAY GAOL. *

* I was imprisoned there for "blasphemy" from February 1883
to February 1884, by sentence of a Roman Catholic judge, Mr.
Justice North.

The dullest Christmas I ever spent was in her Majesty's hotel in North
London. The place was spacious, but not commodious; it was magnificent
in the mass, but very petty in detail; it was designed with extreme
care for the safety of its many guests, but with a complete disregard
of their comfort; and it soon palled upon the taste, despite the
unremitting attentions of a host of liveried servants. How I longed for
a change of scene, if what I constantly gazed upon may be so described;
but I was like a knight in some enchanted castle, surrounded with
attendants, yet not at liberty to walk out. The hospitality of my
residence, however, was by no means sumptuous. The table did not groan
beneath a weight of viands, or gleam with glowing wines. Its poverty was
such that a red-herring would have been a glorious treat, and a dose of
physic an agreeable variety. Why then, you may ask, did I not quit this
inhospitable hotel, and put up at another establishment? Because I was
invited by her Majesty, and her Majesty's invitations are commands.

Speaking by the card, Christmas-day in Holloway was treated as a Sunday.
There was no work and no play then, the dinner was the poorest and
worst cooked in the whole week, and the only diversion was a morning
or afternoon visit to chapel, where we had the satisfaction of learning
that heaven was an eternal Sunday.

The fibre put into my cell to be picked by my industrious fingers had
all been removed the previous evening, lest I should desecrate the
sacred day by pursuing my ordinary avocation. My apartment was therefore
clean and tidy, and by the aid of a bit of dubbin I managed to give
an air of newness to my well-worn shoes. The attendants had, however,
omitted to provide me with a Sunday suit, so I was obliged to don
my working clothes, in which graceless costume I had to