My dear fellow! for goodness’ sake put away the microscope with which you are so patiently investigating the mote in the eye of your Aryan brother, and bear with me, whilst I attempt to extract the huge log which obscures your own visual organs. And should I (contrary to my expectation), succeed in removing so large a mass, you will find that, whilst you have been depriving your Aryan brethren of their comparatively innocent little plaything, which at the most might have crushed some half dozen fanatics, in the course of a year, you have reared up a horrible fantastic creation which you worship, which in its progress is crushing its thousands and even millions every year; which is stamping out the lifeblood of England and its dependencies; whilst all the time you are applauding it, sounding your political tom-toms, blowing your trumpets to shouts of wah! wah! complacently misapplying glib quotations from your sacred Vedas (Adam Smith and Mill), flaunting your banners of political economy while violating every principle of that useful but misused science. CHAPTER II. THE BLASPHEMER. Now, my Friend, I am not sanguine enough to expect a patient hearing from you whilst I revile that idol which you have set up with sound of sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and other kinds of (un)musical instruments. I am perfectly aware that I shall be cast, by you, into the fiery furnace of criticism; I can imagine, in anticipation, the vials of your wrath poured out on my unlucky head; and I don’t expect to escape like our friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I am not composed of those materials of which martyrs are made. I know full well that I shall writhe horribly under the taunt of “ungrammatical twaddle,” for how can I hope to escape an occasional slip of the pen, of which even the heaven-born “Covenanted Civilian” is not always innocent. I shall wriggle under the analysis of my “illogical reasoning,” my “exploded theories,” my “faulty statistics.” I shall squirm under the exposure of my “ignorance of facts,” my “want of knowledge of political economy,” my “antiquated notions.” That I shall suffer severely for my blasphemy I know right well; but I cannot help it. Strike!! but hear me. I am weary to death of the claptrap and imposition with which your votaries applaud their idol, and attribute the evils caused by it to anything but the right cause. I am disgusted with the blind obstinacy with which you close your eyes to the light of facts; besides, I have the selfish feeling that, sooner or later, I may be jostled by admiring votaries under the wheels of your car, whilst I shall not have even the consolation of deluding myself that I am a martyr ascending to the heaven of your Jugernāthian mythology, but, on the contrary, a victim of your confounded stupidity and obstinacy, and of the incompetence or dishonesty of your leaders.