Blue-grass blade., 1908-06-28

ese that elsewhere is not always at their
call, even though they could secure other
employment, it is often precarious, some
times less easy than talking, often less re-
munerative.
With all this staring the clergyman in
the face he is a brave man who will desert
the old craft. Little else than a disturbed
conscience and a belief in his ability to
secure his rations in the lecture field sell
dom finds the cleric brave enough to come
out boldly and tell the truth as he sees it.
that Christianity is deception and fraud
But notwithstanding all this, desertion of
the old craft are of almost daily occurrence,
not only among Professionals, but with Cath
olics, often the deserter attempts to veil
his unbelef by obscure and ambiguous
phraseology and thereby continue to feed
in the clerical trough But there is less
intelligent class of priests, men who still
see Adam and Eve in the garden and hear
Jehovah call on them to get up and dress,
these, like the more learned priests, see
their flocks thinning out day by day, which,
with the assertions of more brainy men,
are i'll omens for the continuance of their
labors in the vineyard of Christ. Something
is wrong
The Protestant clergy have combined,
and are working. as never before, to save
their feed and their creed. In this strug
gle the less intelligent priesthood bemoan
their fate, while deep down the desperate
conflict stands the trembling lay Christian,
between whom and the heavenly powers,
we behold the pulpiteer, with outstretched
arms imploring his three gods to stand by
him in this, his last ditch. save the feed
trough and the faith of the unsuspecting
dupe while the 1.-THE gatherer goes march
ing on.
But Nature is monocrat the universe is
her field of action, against which the feeble
acts of man are but dust in tornado;
her DEGREES have gone forth, and Christian
ity, like all else that is false, is on its death
bed; all who will, may see; the approach
ing end of one of the last great religions
of the world hovers nigh. Intelligent men
no longer believe as did their forefathers,
Christianity is worn out, even the Catholic
church is divided against itself: many OF
the leading bishops and priests are in open
rebellion, not only against the pope, but
against the creed they, under the name
of Modernism, are denying the divinity OF
Christ, the emaculate conception the resur-
rection, the atonement, and even god him
self
Such Is their attitude, that there is no
material difference between them and my
self and I know | have not changed my
views on these matters. This revolt
against old and venerated beliefs is every
where in and out of the churches; it is
blown from the tree-tops, rolls in on the
tide, is blown from the white caps of the
rolling deep, is heard in the song of the
echoed from the dells of the
forest wild, heard in the roll of distant
thunder and flashed in the lightning. 1t
comes to us from the mountain tops, rolls
along the vale, where it echoes, in the still
hours of night, the death throes of Chris
t,anity. From far off lands 1t whispers in
our ears from the deserts Of the world 1t
proclaims the low pulsation, the quivering
limbs pallored face and crimson cheeks of
the dying criminal. Even the flowers of
the field tell us of its departed glory, while
The waving grain bids farewell to the
church. Even the grave yard tells us of