We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life or the door of another, or whether the night here is somewhere else a dawn. The idea of Immortality, that like a sea has ebbed and flowed into the human heart with its countless waves beating against the shores and rocks of time and faith, was not born of any book or of any creed or of any religion. It was born of human affection, and it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death. It is the rainbow, Hope, shining upon the tears of grief. Paine's simple childlike belief in God and Immortality, Ingersoll remands to the cloudy sphere of agnosticism, as Paine probably would now; but it is my opinion that if evidence which he regarded as satisfactory--that is, legal evidence--could be given, he, too, would accept these articles; for he has none of the elements of the bigot about him. His detestation is simply of hell and a priesthood; for pure, spiritual religion, he has only respect. Like Paine, he attacks the ecclesiasticism and theology of the day, and is satisfied with doing that; and, like Paine, he has convictions instead of opinions, and his character is all aflame with his ideas. In his private life, in his family relations, in his public career, there is no reproach on his name--nothing that he need be ashamed of. Mr. Ingersoll does not worship the Infinite under any recognized form or name, but that he adores the _substance of deity_ is beyond all doubt; he worships truth and purity and sincerity and love,--everything that is highest and noblest in human life. One word more I must say,--that his motive is essentially religious. It is his aim to lift off the burden of superstition and priestcraft; to elevate the soul of manhood and womanhood; to promote rational progress in goodness; to emancipate every possibility of power in the race; and this is the aim of every pure religion,--to open new spheres of hope and accomplishment. The disintegration of the popular orthodoxy goes on very fast, and always under the influence of the moral sentiment. This is very prettily put by Miss Jewett, in one of her short stories, entitled "The Town Poor." Two ladies, jogging along a country road, fall to talking about an old meeting-house which is being _improved_ after the modern fashion. One of them laments the loss of the ancient pews and pulpit, and the substitution of a modern platform and slips. The other says: