“ ‘First, I am a man. I am going somewhere. I am to-night a day nearer the grave than last night. I have read all that they can tell me. There is not one solitary ray of light upon the darkness. They shall not take away the only guide and leave me stone blind. “ ‘Secondly, I had a mother. I saw her go down into the dark valley where I am going, and she leaned upon an unseen arm as calmly as a child goes to sleep upon the breast of a mother. I know that was not a dream. “ ‘Thirdly, I have three motherless daughters. They have no protector but myself. I would rather kill them than leave them in this sinful world if you could blot out from it all the teachings of the Gospel.’ ” COL. INGERSOLL IS A PHILOSOPHER? Col. Ingersoll tells us that “intellectual liberty, as a matter of necessity, forever destroys the idea that belief is either PRAISE OR BLAMEWORTHY, and is wholly inconsistent with every creed in Christendom.” Again, he says, “No man can control his belief.” Notwithstanding all this, his whole occupation consists in traveling over the country and blaming men, women and children for their belief. He is consistent? He is a Scientist, you know? He does nothing that is absurd? He is a philosopher, sitting on the bones of Moses and making grimaces at the faith of Moses, when neither Moses nor his friends could control their belief? He works hard for no purpose if men can’t control their belief, and does men injustice, IF HE BLAMES THEM FOR THEIR FAITH? “No man can control his belief.” Then why labor to make your brother of humanity believe that he is but— The pilgrim of a day? Spouse of the worm and brother of the clay, Frail as the leaf in autumn’s yellow bower, Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower? A child without a sire; Whose mortal life and transitory fire Light to the grave his chance-created form, As ocean wrecks illuminate the storm. And then— To-night, and silence sinks forevermore! If these— The pompous teachings ye proclaim, Lights of the world and demi-gods of fame, The laurel wreaths that murderers rear, Blood-nursed and watered by the widow’s tears, Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, As the daily night-shade round the skeptic’s head. _Think of Ingersoll at his brother’s grave!_ LIFE OF ELDER E. GOODWIN. This interesting volume will be ready for delivery in a few days, as it is now in the hands of the binder. It is a neat volume of 314 pages, on good paper, and substantially bound in cloth. Price, $1.50.