oor, and there, in the insanity of despair, besought the deaf gods to
hear his bitter cry of agony and fear.

The savage as he emerges from a state of barbarism, gradually loses
faith in his idols of wood and stone, and in their place puts a
multitude of spirits. As he advances in knowledge, he generally
discards the petty spirits, and in their stead believes in one, whom he
supposes to be infinite and supreme. Supposing this great spirit to be
superior to nature, he offers worship or flattery in exchange for
assistance. At last, finding that he obtains no aid from this supposed
deity--finding that every search after the absolute must of necessity
end in failure--finding that man cannot by any possibility conceive of
the conditionless--he begins to investigate the facts by which he is
surrounded, and to depend upon himself.

The people are beginning to think, to reason and to investigate.
Slowly, painfully, but surely, the gods are being driven from the
earth. Only upon rare occasions are they, even by the most religious,
supposed to interfere in the affairs of men. In most matters we are at
last supposed to be free. Since the invention of steamships and
railways, so that the products of all countries can be easily
interchanged, the gods have quit the business of producing famine. Now
and then they kill a child because it is idolized by its parents. As a
rule they have given up causing accidents on railroads, exploding
boilers, and bursting kerosene lamps. Cholera, yellow fever, and
smallpox are still considered heavenly weapons; but measles, itch and
ague are now attributed to natural causes. As a general thing, the
gods have stopped drowning children, except as a punishment for
violating the Sabbath. They still pay some attention to the affairs of
kings, men of genius and persons of great wealth: but ordinary people
are left to shift for themselves as best they may. In wars between
great nations, the gods still interfere; but in prize fights, the best
man with an honest referee, is almost sure to win.

The church cannot abandon the idea of special providence. To give up
that doctrine is to give up all. The church must insist that prayer is
answered--that some power superior to nature hears and grants the
request of the sincere and humble Christian, and that this same power
in some mysterious way provides for all.

A devout Clergyman sought every opportunity to impress upon the mind of
his son the fact