himself from
superstition, he was indifferent about the matter, although millions of
his fellow men were still in bondage.

This American gentleman's remark shows how people can be misled by
phrases. "Fighting spooks" is a pretty locution, and every Freethinker
would admit that fighting spooks is a most unprofitable business. But,
in reality, it is not the aggressive Secularist or Atheist who fights
these imaginary beings. He fights those who do fight them--which is a
very different thing.

Let the priests and preachers of all religions and denominations cease
abusing the callow mind of childhood; let them refrain from teaching
their fanciful conjectures about "the unseen"; let them desist from
a peopling the air with the wild creations of their own
lawless imagination; let them tell no more than they know, and confine
their tongues within the strict limits of honest speech; let them do
this, and Free-thought will be happy to expire in the blaze of its
triumph. There is no joy in fighting superstition, any more than there
is joy in attacking disease. Each labor is beneficent and is attended by
a _relative_ satisfaction; but health is better than the best doctoring,
and mental sanity than the subtlest cure.

The clergy are the fighters of spooks. They babble of gods, who get
angry with us; of devils, who must be guarded against; of angels, who
fly from heaven to earth, and earth to heaven; of saints, who can do us
a good turn if they are properly supplicated. But the chief spooks are
of course the devils, headed by _the_ Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer,
Abaddon, the Serpent--in short, Old Nick. "We have an army of red
coats," said old Fox, "to fight the French; and an army of black coats
to fight the Devil--of whom he standeth not in awe."

Before the great procession of Humanity go the priests. "Hush!" they
cry, "the hedges are full of devils. Softly, gently, beloved! Do not
rush into unspeakable danger. We will bear the brunt of it, out of our
fatherly affection for you. See, we stand in front, on the perilous edge
of battle. We dare the demons who lie in wait to catch your immortal
souls. We beat the bushes, and dislodge them from their hiding-places;
strong not in our own strength, but in the grace of God. And behold they
fly! Did you not see them? Did you not perceive the flutter of their
black wings? Did you not smell their sulphurous taint? Beloved, the
road is now clear, the hedges are safe. Forward then! Bu