y a question of
environment. Superstition itself is always the same; it no more changes
than the leopard's spots or the Ethiopian's skin. But the environment
changes. From the days when there was no scientific knowledge or
rigorous criticism we have advanced to an age when the electric
search-light of science sweeps every corner and criticism is
remorseless. Hence the modern ghosts are served up in Christmas
"shockers," while the ancient ghosts are worshipped as gods. But this
will not last for ever. The rule of "what is, has been," will eventually
be applied to the whole of human history, and the greatest ghost of the
creeds will "melt into the infinite azure of the past."

TALMAGE ON THE BIBLE.

Talmage is the Spurgeon of America. He has all the English preacher's
vogue as well as his orthodoxy. But he resembles Spurgeon with a
difference. He is distinctly American. No one equals the Yankee at "tall
talk," and what Yankee equals Talmage in this species of composition?
The oracle of the Brooklyn Tabernacle licks creation in that line. Here
is a specimen of his spread-eagle eloquence, taken from the sermon we
are about to criticise:--"The black and deep-toned bell of doom hangs
over their heads, and I take the hammer of that bell, and I strike it
three times with all my might, and it sounds Woe! Woe! Woe!" Perhaps it
does, but Talmage is wrong in his spelling. What the bell of doom, so
impudently struck by this mannikin, really sounds is doubtless "Woh!
Woh! Woh!" It wants the presumptuous spouter to leave off playing the
part of God Almighty.

Over in America, as well as here in England, the Bible is meeting
with misfortune. Christian ministers are showing up its blunders and
inconsistencies. Its foes are now of its own household. Talmage is
not frightened, however; he keeps a stiff upper-lip; and it must be
admitted, he has a good deal of upper-lip to keep stiff. Since he
visited the Holy Land his faith is strong enough to swallow whales. Now
he knows that what the Bible says is true.. He has seen the place where
it happened.

But faith is a tender plant. Talmage says it is easily destroyed. "I can
give you a recipe for its obliteration," he cries; and it is this--"Read
infidel books; have long and frequent conversations with sceptics;
attend the lectures of those antagonistic to religion." Yes, faith _is_
a tender plant. The believer is a hot-house production. He dies in the
open-air. The Bible can be read