anticipations, so that man's
natural capacity for happiness is there gratified to the very utmost."
And this is hell! Well, as the old lady said, who would have thought it?
Verily the brimstone has all turned to treacle.

Curious! is it not? While the Protestants are discussing whether
hell-fire is actual fire, and whether sinners are roasted for
everlasting, or only for eternity, in steps a Catholic and declares
that hell is a first-class sanitarium, far superior to the east-end of
London, better than Bournemouth, and ahead of Naples and Mentone. "Be
happy in heaven," he cries, "and if you won't, why, damn you, be happy
in hell."

But before we leave Mr. Mivart we have a parting word to say. He admits
the comparative novelty of his view of hell. "Our age," he says, "has
developed not only a great regard for human life, but also for the
sufferings of the brute creation." This has led to a moral revolt
against the old doctrine of eternal torment, and the Church is under the
necessity of presenting the idea of hell in a fresh and less revolting
fashion. Precisely so. It is not theology which purifies humanity, but
humanity which purifies theology. Man civilises himself first, and his
gods afterwards, and the priest walks at the tail of the procession.*

* Professor Mivart is a man to be pitied. First of all, his
views on Hell were opposed by Father Clarke, against whom
the hell-reformer defended himself. Last of all, however,
Professor Mivart's articles on this subject were placed upon
the Index of Prohibited Books, which no good Catholic is
allowed to read, except by special permission. Rome had
spoken, and the Professor submitted himself to Holy Mother
Church. In doing so, he destroyed the value of his judgment
on any question whatever, since he submits not to argument,
but to authority.

THE ACT OF GOD.

A CURIOUS litigation has just been decided at the Spalding County Court.
The Great Northern Railway was sued for damages by a farmer, who had
sent a quantity of potatoes to London shortly before Christmas, which
were not delivered for nearly ten days, and were then found to be
spoiled by the frost. The Company's defence was that a dense fog
prevailed during the Christmas week, and disorganised the traffic; that
everything was done to facilitate the transit of goods; and that, as
the fog was the act of God, there was no liability for damage by delay.
After