istianity. In fact there is a large collection
of such pious idiots, only they are deterred by a wholesome fear of
ridicule. Hundreds of thousands of people have seen Mr. Wilson Barrett
in _Claudian_, without being in the least astonished that an earthquake,
which ruins a whole city, should be got up for the hero's spiritual
edification.

Let the pious idiots, however numerous, be swept aside, and let the
Christian with a fair supply of brains in his skull consider Providence
in the light of this earthquake. It is folly to pretend that the
Japanese are particularly wicked at this moment. It is greater folly to
pretend that the earthquake killed the most flagitious sinners. It slew
like Jehovah's bandits in the land of Canaan, without regard to age,
sex, or character. The terrible fact must be faced, that in a country
not specially wicked, and in a portion of it not inhabited by select
sinners, the Lord sent an earthquake to slay man, woman, and child, and
if possible to "leave alive nothing that breatheth."

Lay your hand upon your heart, Christian, and honestly answer this
question. Would you have done this deed? Of course not. Your cheek
flames at the thought. You would rush to save the victims. You would
soothe the dying and reverently bury the dead. Why then do you worship a
Moloch who laughs at the writhings of his victims and drinks their tears
like wine? See, they are working and playing; they are at business and
pleasure; one is toiling to support the loved ones at home; another is
sitting with them in peace and joy; another is wooing the maiden who
is dearer to him than life itself; another is pondering some benevolent
project; another is planning a law or a poem that shall be a blessing
and a delight to posterity. And lo the mandate of Moloch goes forth, and
"his word shall not return unto him void." Swifter than thought calamity
falls upon the gay and busy scene. Hearts that throbbed with joy now
quiver with agony. The husband folds his wife in a last embrace. The
mother gathers her children like Niobe. The lover clasps in the midst of
horror the maiden no longer coy. Homes are shaken to dust, halls fall
in ruins, the very temples of the gods are shattered. Brains are dashed
out, blood flows in streams, limbs are twisted, bodies are pinned by
falling masonry, cries of anguish pierce the air, groans follow, and
lastly silence. Moloch then retires to his inmost sanctuary, filled and
sated with death and pain.