is neutralised by the negative opinion of the intellectual
giant Cardinal Newman--no decision is reached. Opinions that prove
nothing are, of course, without value--any but a dead person knows that
much. This obliges us to admit the truth of the unpalatable proposition
just mentioned above--that in disputed matters political and religious
one man's opinion is worth no more than his peer's, and hence it
follows that no man's opinion possesses any real value. It is a humbling
thought, but there is no way to get around it: all opinions upon these
great subjects are brass-farthing opinions.

It is a mere plain simple fact--as clear and as certain as that 8 and 7
make fifteen. And by it we recognise that we are all insane, as
concerns those matters. If we were sane we should all see a political or
religious doctrine alike, there would be no dispute: it would be a case
of 8 and 7--just as it is in heaven, where all are sane and none insane.
There there is but one religion, one belief, the harmony is perfect,
there is never a discordant note.

Under protection of these preliminaries I suppose I may now repeat
without offence that the Christian Scientist is insane. I mean him
no discourtesy, and I am not charging--nor even imagining--that he
is insaner than the rest of the human race. I think he is more
picturesquely insane that some of us. At the same time, I am quite sure
that in one important and splendid particular he is saner than is the
vast bulk of the race.

Why is he insane? I told you before: it is because his opinions are not
ours. I know of no other reason, and I do not need any other; it is the
only way we have of discovering insanity when it is not violent. It
is merely the picturesqueness of his insanity that makes it more
interesting than my kind or yours. For instance, consider his 'little
book'--the one described in the previous article; the 'little book'
exposed in the sky eighteen centuries ago by the flaming angel of the
Apocalypse and handed down in our day to Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy of New
Hampshire and translated by her, word for word, into English (with
help of a polisher), and now published and distributed in hundreds of
editions by her at a clear profit per volume, above cost, of 700
per cent.!--a profit which distinctly belongs to the angel of the
Apocalypse, and let him collect it if he can; a 'little book' which the
C.S. very frequently calls by just that name, and always inclosed in
quotation-