me it seems that the man speaks not only for himself,
but for many who think as he does, but who have not the ability nor the
opportunity to express themselves clearly. I resolved, accordingly, to
reply to him, and once begun, my pen ran on, and my letter unexpectedly
covered more ground than I had intended. Whether he received the letter or
not, I do not know; at least it must have been delivered to his address,
for it was not returned to me. As I have not, however, heard from him
again since February, and as he speaks in his letter of chest catarrh,
which he hopes will in no long time bring him to a joyful end, I must wait
no longer for an answer, and publish the correspondence in the hope that
there are other "Pferdebuerle" in the world to whom it may be of value.

* * * * *

"

Pittsburgh, Pa., U.S., February 26, 1896.
Dear Colleague Max Mueller:

"Your article in the _Deutsche Rundschau_ on Celsus pleased me very much.
What does it matter that you do not know me? I love you, and that gives me
a right to address you. Why those vain regrets over the loss of the
original? I would not stretch out my little finger for that Celsus; gone
is gone like the lost parts of the Annals of Tacitus. More than likely
both of these losses are to be ascribed to Christian fanaticism. Tacitus
hated the Jews and the Christian sect derived from them. But, father Max,
have we not much greater modern Celsuses and Tacituses, for instance David
Hume and Schopenhauer? One would think that after the writings of these
heroes positive Christianity would be an impossibility, and yet the
persistence of error is so great that it may take several centuries more
before the end of the Christian era is reached. Has there ever been
anything in the history of the world more humiliating to the human
understanding than this false and lying tale of the Christian religion?
And is there anything in face of our knowledge, and of the realm of nature
and of man's position in it, so unbearable, yes so odious, as the
inoculation of such error in the tender consciousness of our school
children? I shudder when I think that in thousands of our churches and
schools this systematic ruin of the greatest of all gifts, the
consciousness, the human brain, is daily, even hourly, going on. Max, can
you, too, still cling to the God-fable? The English atmosphere may serve
as an apology. I could not strike a dog, but I am filled wit