on the walls mere shadows of clothing-colonels, rates-in-aid,
poor-law unions, defunct potato and the Irish difficulty,--he
does not seem long for this world, piping to that effect?


Not the least disgusting feature of this Gospel according to the
Platform is its reference to religion, and even to the Christian
Religion, as an authority and mandate for what it does.
Christian Religion? Does the Christian or any religion prescribe
love of scoundrels, then? I hope it prescribes a healthy hatred
of scoundrels;--otherwise what am I, in Heaven's name, to make of
it? Me, for one, it will not serve as a religion on those
strange terms. Just hatred of scoundrels, I say; fixed,
irreconcilable, inexorable enmity to the enemies of God: this,
and not love for them, and incessant whitewashing, and dressing
and cockering of them, must, if you look into it, be the backbone
of any human religion whatsoever. Christian Religion! In what
words can I address you, ye unfortunates, sunk in the slushy ooze
till the worship of mud-serpents, and unutterable Pythons and
poisonous slimy monstrosities, seems to you the worship of God?
This is the rotten carcass of Christianity; this mal-odorous
phosphorescence of post-mortem sentimentalism. O Heavens, from
the Christianity of Oliver Cromwell, wrestling in grim fight with
Satan and his incarnate Blackguardisms, Hypocrisies, Injustices,
and legion of human and infernal angels, to that of eloquent Mr.
Hesperus Fiddlestring denouncing capital punishments, and
inculcating the benevolence on platforms, what a road have we
travelled!

A foolish stump-orator, perorating on his platform mere