The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll, Vol. 4 (of 12)

d mental customs. Our beliefs, like the fashion of our garments, depend

is a sculpto

od but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet." If our parents had lived on the banks of

hat they teach, and take great pride in saying th

eighbors. They like company. They are social. They enjoy travel

in a hundred sects because their fathers were. This is the general rule, to which there are many exceptions. Children sometimes are superior to their parents, modify their ideas, change their cu

agree with these historians. Names have been changed, altars have been overthrown, but opinions, customs and beliefs remained the same. A Pagan, beneath the drawn sword of a Christian, would probably

city, in surroundings. And so there is a continual, though almost imperceptible change. There is development, conscious and unconscious growth, and by comparing long periods of time we find that the old has been almo

d. They knew the beginning of things. They knew that God commenced to create one Monday morning, four thousand and four years before Christ. They knew that in the eternity-back of that morning, he had done nothing. They knew that it took him

s, infested with vipers, wet with tears, stained by bleeding feet, led to heaven, and that the road, broad and smooth, bordered with fruits and flowers, filled with laughter and song

enturies ago God had left his throne and had been born a babe into this poor world-that he had suffered death for the sake of man-for the sake of sa

ngs they knew. They knew too all that God had done to purify and elevate the race. They knew all about the Flood-knew that God, with the exception of eight, drowned all his children-the old and young-the bowed patriarch and the dimpled babe-the young man and the merry maiden-the loving mother and the laughing child-because his mercy endureth forever. They knew too, that he drowned the beasts and birds-everything that walked or crawled or flew-because his loving kindn

contracts, to take care of wife and child-to make a happy home-to be a good citizen,

t of faith. Without faith, all the so-called virtues were sins, and the men

victims. They were assaulted in the cradle-in their mother's arms. Then, the schoolmaster carried on the war against their natural sense, and all the books they rea

pended on revivals to save

d boats. Generally the roads were so bad that the wagons were laid up with the boats. There were no operas, no theatres, no amusement except part

gly warm. The emotional sermons, the sad singing, the hysterical amens, the hope of heaven, the fear of hell, caused many to lose the little sense they had. They became substantially insane. In this condition they flocked to the "mourners bench"-asked for

re I was converted, before I gave my heart to God, I used to lie and steal, but now, th

nd now and then some man had sense enough to laugh at the threats of priests and m

he was prepared to die. The old man answered that he had made no preparation, that he was not a Christian-that he had never done anything but wo

and laid the walls. My wife spun and wove and worked every moment. We raised and educated our children-denied ourselves. During all these years my wife never had a good dress, or a decent bonnet. I never had a good suit of clothes. We lived on the plainest food. Our hands, our bodies are deformed by toil. We never had a vacat

e never works-has no trouble about business. In a little while he dies, and that is all. I work with all my strength. I have

was heard, when business started again, most of the converts "backslid" and fell again into their old ways. But the next winter they were

important business of this life was to save your soul-that all should resist and scorn the pleasures of sense, and keep their eyes steadily fixed on the golden gate of the New Jerusalem. They were unbalanced, emotional, hysterical, bigoted, hateful, loving, and insane. They really believed the Bible to be the actual word of God-a book without mistake or contradiction. They called its cruelties, justice-its absurdities,

ere absolutely certain. In their minds the Dev

tions of the tortures inflicted in hell, of the horrible state of the lost. I supposed that what I

aint impressions on my m

," did not want a "new heart" an

uched my heart, that left its

tist preacher. He was a large man, dressed like a farmer,

rich man-his manner of life, the excesses in which he indulged, his extravagance, his ri

poor body eaten by disease, the crusts and crumbs he devoured, the do

ation-from defeat to victory-he described the glorious company of angels, who with white and

on his costly couch, the air heavy with perfume, the room filled with servants and physicians. His gold was

ich man's voice. What does he say? Hark! 'Father Abraham! Father Abraham! I pray thee send Lazarus that

l cross the gulf that lies between the saved and lost and still will be heard the cry: 'Father Abraham! Father Abraham! I pray

reat joy." For the first time my imagination grasped the height and depth of the Christian h

y, the flames of hell were quenched. From that day I have pass