of the Manichean heresy, when the Evil Spirit has been
affected in preference to the good--probably only another way of saying
that morals have been held subordinate to intellect. But I am growing at
once prosy and digressive.

The announcement that the "Liberal Social Union" would devote one of
their sweetly heretical evenings at the Beethoven Rooms, Harley Street,
to an examination of the Darwinian development of the Evil Spirit, was
one not to be scorned by an inquirer into the more eccentric and erratic
phases of theology. Literary engagements stood in the way--for the
social heretics gather on a Friday--but come what might, I would hear
them discuss diabolism. Leaving my printer's devil to indulge in
typographical errors according to his own sweet will (and I must confess
he _did_ wander), I presented myself, as I thought in good time, at the
portals of the Harley Street room, where his Satanic Majesty was to be
heretically anatomized. But, alas! I had not calculated aright the power
of that particular potentate to "draw." No sooner had I arrived at the
cloak-room than the very hats and umbrellas warned me of the number of
his votaries. Evening Dress was "optional;" and I frankly confess, at
whatever risk of his displeasure, that I had not deemed Mephistopheles
worthy of a swallow-tailed coat. I came in the garb of ordinary life;
and at once felt uncomfortable when, mounting the stairs, I was received
by a portly gentleman and an affable lady in violent tenue de soir. The
room was full to the very doors; and as soon as I squeezed into earshot
of the lecturer (who had already commenced his discourse) I was greeted
by a heterodox acquaintance in elaborate dress-coat and rose-pink
gloves. Experience in such matters had already told me--and thereupon I
proved it by renewed personal agony--that an Englishman never feels so
uncomfortable as when dressed differently from his compeers at any kind
of social gathering. Mrs. T---- asks you to dinner, and you go clad in
the correct costume in deference to the prandial meal, but find all the
rest in morning dress. Mrs. G----, on the contrary, sends you a
rollicking note to feed with a few friends--no party; and you go
straight from office to find a dozen heavily-got-up people sniggering at
your frock coat and black tie. However, as I said, on this occasion the
lecturer, Dr. Zerffi, was in the thick of what proved to be a very
attractive lecture; so I was not the observed of all