not, I would curse Nature even though the curse involved for me a sudden and painful death. But Nature heareth not man's protests or appeals—she is blind to his sufferings and deaf to his prayers.

Oh, but it's said: "See what harmony there is in the Universe:" per se there is neither harmony nor chaos in Nature; we call that harmony which pleasantly affects us, and that chaos which does the reverse. Some Theist may say: "Suppose that I grant that I cannot prove that god exists, what then? You cannot prove your own existence, and yet you believe that you exist." I am well aware that I cannot prove my own existence; I don't want to prove it; it's a fact, and it stands for itself—to me it is not a matter of belief, it is a matter of certainty. I know that I exist. Cannot god make the evidence of his existence as clear as my own is to me? If he cannot, what becomes of his power? and if he will not, what of his goodness?

And it must be remembered that there are thousands of intelligent Atheists in the world to-day. Now, either god does not wish man to believe in him, or if he does he lacks the power to produce conviction. O Theist—you who profess to be conversant with the ways of the almighty—explain to me, now, how it is that in proportion as men cultivate their minds and reason on theological questions that the tendency is for them to disbelieve even in the ethereal deity of modern Theism. And it will not do in the nineteenth century to put Jesus forward as a god. He was no god. He possessed many good qualities, no doubt, as a man—but not one attribute which is claimed for god. He was neither all-wise, nor all-good, nor all-powerful, and he was only a finite being. And how can it be pretended by sensible persons that a finite man living on the earth, born of a woman, and dying like any other ordinary being, could possibly be the infinite god of the Universe? Is it not absurd? I cannot believe it, and anybody with brains that devotes a moment's thought to the matter, must acknowledge either that it is incomprehensible, or that it is monstrously absurd.

In this country we are not asked to believe in any of the "foreign gods"—the gods of ancient Greece or Rome—the gods of China, India, or Egypt, etc.—and we need not now discuss as to how far these deities have influenced human conduct for good or for ill. England, as a civilised country, is not very old. And civilisation has always meant a banishment of the gods. While men considered how to please the gods, they neglected in a great measure the work of the world. As Plato said: "The gods only help those who help themselves." Well they are just the persons who do not want help; and I shall never worship any god who leaves the helpless and the unfortunate to perish.

If god only "helps those who help themselves," he might as well leave the helping alone, because even as we find the world to-day, the whole of life seems to be based on the principle that, "unto him that hath shall be given, and he shall have in abundance, and from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he seemeth to have." The man who has a strong constitution may struggle successfully in the world; the man with great affluence may win an easy victory over his fellows; the man who has plenty of "influential friends" has good prospects; but the poor, the weakly, the ignorant, what hope have they—they have to suffer and toil, and toil and suffer from the cradle to the tomb.

How is it, then, you may ask, if man has received no assistance from without, either from Nature or the gods, that he has achieved such splendid results in the world? The answer is simple enough. The great struggle for life—the desire to get food, clothing, habitation, comfort—these have been the motives which have urged men on. The desire to get food caused men to till the soil, and, as the demand increased, the methods of cultivation improved; with improved taste came improved raiment and dwellings for the rich; plain dress and decent habitation for the poor. Men