ting and
degrading luxury--without occupation, with none but frivolous
cares--who fancy themselves infinitely superior to their poor, slaving,
ill-dressed, and toilworn sisters.

These disparities are as great as any that existed in the "infamous"
days of pagan Rome. The world has had eighteen hundred years of
Christianity, and its "salvation" is still in the dim and distant
future.

While the clergy have preached a hell after death, the people have
been left simmering in a real hell in this life--the hell of ignorance,
poverty, oppression, and misery.

Christianity is now boasting of what it is _going_ to do. It says it
begins to understand Jesus Christ; it means to follows in its Master's
footsteps; it will strain every nerve to raise the downtrodden, to
better the condition of the poor, and to give true comfort to the
afflicted. There are some individual Christians who mean this and try
to practise it. But for the most part these fine new promises of
Christianity are nothing but sermon decorations, words for deeds,
sawdust for bread, flash notes for good coin of the realm.

We have but to look around us at this moment to see the true fruits of
Christianity. It is the same fruit that _all_ religion bears. Under
the pretence of being the best friend of the people, Christianity (like
other religions) has been the real friend of the privileged classes. It
has also fostered a public sentiment in this direction. To prove this
let us take a case in point.

Some time ago an English princess lost her lover by death. She was said
to be inconsolable. But before long it was whispered that she was to
marry her lover's brother. At length it was announced in the papers,
only to be contradicted as a false rumor which very much hurt the
feelings of all the parties it concerned. Those who understood the
nature of such contradictions smiled. By and bye the contradicted rumor
was announced authoritatively. Princess May _was_ to marry the gentleman
in question. "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer
by this sun of York."

All England was soon astir with loyal enthusiasm, and people were
everywhere set subscribing for presents to the dear Princess. Soldiers
and sailors are sweated. Pressure is put upon theatrical people. "You
_must_ give _something_," is the cry. The City of London is to spend
L2,500 on a necklace. One lady gives the royal couple a splendid country
house with magnificent grounds. Committees are