Iconoclast. Already, however, the
more superstitious and fanatical Christians are shaking their heads and
muttering that "Bradlaugh must have said something when he was dying,
only they wouldn't allow believers in his sick room to hear it." By
and bye the more cunning and unscrupulous will come to the aid of
their weaker brethren, and a circumstantial story will be circulated in
Sunday-schools and Christian meetings.

We are well aware that his daughter took every precaution. She has
the signed testimony of the nurses, that her father never spoke on the
subject of religion during his last illness. But this may not avail,
for similar precautions are admitted to have been taken in the cases
of Voltaire and Paine, and, in despite of this, the Christian traducers
have forged the testimony of imaginary interlopers, whose word cannot
be disproved, as they never existed outside the creative fancy of these
liars for the glory of God.

It is quite a superstition that truth is always a match for falsehood.
George Eliot remarked that the human mind takes absurdity as asses chew
thistles. We add that it swallows falsehood as a cat laps milk. It was
humorously said the other day by Colonel Ingersoll that "The truth is
the weakest thing in the world. It always comes into the arena naked,
and there it meets a healthy young lie in complete armor, and the result
is that the truth gets licked. One good, solid lie will knock out a
hundred truths." It has done so with respect to the death of Voltaire
and Paine, and it will do so with respect to the death of Charles
Bradlaugh.

Meanwhile the Spiritualists are having an innings. Charles Bradlaugh was
buried by his friends at Woking, but his ghost is said to have turned
up at Birmingham. It appears from a report in the _Medium and
Daybreak_ that Mr. Charles Gray, of 139 Pershore-road, being "sadly
sorrow-stricken by the passing away of a son," was "constrained to
remain at home" on the evening of May 31. A seance was arranged "with
a few friends," and of course a message was received from the dear
departed boy. This was conveyed through Mr. Russell, junior, whose
age is not stated. Then Mr. Reedman "was controlled to write by C.
Bradlaugh." Mr. Reedman wrote "in a perfectly unconscious state, and on
the departure of the influence was much surprised on being told of the
nature of the communication."

Mr. Reedman's surprise may have been great, but it scarcely equals our
own. One would im