ft, so am I; and when I say
the philosophy of the Bible is in many respects unsound, I always wish to
make an exception in favour of that part of it which contains the life
and sayings of Jesus of Bethlehem, to which I must always concede my
unqualified admiration--of Jesus, mind you; for with his followers and
their dogmas I have nothing to do. Of all historic characters Jesus is
the most beautiful and the most heroic. I have always been a friend to
hero-worship, it is the only rational one, and has always been in use
amongst civilised people--the worship of spirits is synonymous with
barbarism--it is mere fetish; the savages of West Africa are all spirit
worshippers. But there is something philosophic in the worship of the
heroes of the human race, and the true hero is the benefactor. Brahma,
Jupiter, Bacchus, were all benefactors, and, therefore, entitled to the
worship of their respective peoples. The Celts worshipped Hesus, who
taught them to plough, a highly useful art. We, who have attained a much
higher state of civilisation than the Celts ever did, worship Jesus, the
first who endeavoured to teach men to behave decently and decorously
under all circumstances; who was the foe of vengeance, in which there is
something highly indecorous; who had first the courage to lift his voice
against that violent dogma, 'an eye for an eye'; who shouted conquer, but
conquer with kindness; who said put up the sword, a violent unphilosophic
weapon; and who finally died calmly and decorously in defence of his
philosophy. He must be a savage who denies worship to the hero of
Golgotha."

"But He was something more than a hero; He was the Son of God, wasn't
He?"

The elderly individual made no immediate answer; but, after a few more
whiffs from his pipe, exclaimed, "Come, fill your glass! How do you
advance with your translation of Tell?"

"It is nearly finished; but I do not think I shall proceed with it; I
begin to think the original somewhat dull."

"There you are wrong; it is the masterpiece of Schiller, the first of
German poets."

"It may be so," said the youth. "But, pray excuse me, I do not think
very highly of German poetry. I have lately been reading Shakespeare;
and, when I turn from him to the Germans--even the best of them--they
appear mere pigmies. You will pardon the liberty I perhaps take in
saying so."

"I like that every one should have an opinion of his own," said the
elderly individual; "and, w