rect. It has no more in common with morality than has a sore toe with the construction of the Cosmos. It is simply an evocator of insanity, the fecund mother of neurotic affections. The revivalist does not appeal to the sense, but rather to the sensibilities of his hearers. He has nothing to say anent "the sweet reasonableness" of religion. His "success" depends on his ability to excite the passions and play upon the prejudices of the public. He rasps the untrained nerves of the hoi polloi with his rattail file until they go to pieces. He excites their small mentality with pictures of feathered angels and visions of scaly demons until they develop into full-fledged fanatics or even dangerous lunatics. The trail of the "successful evangelist" is everywhere marked by neurasthenic wrecks and mental abnormalities. He sows dragons' teeth and produces a crop of cranks. His victims are too apt to mistake religious fervor for morality and love of God for duty to man. He is a purveyor of the disease germs of mental degeneration and physical death. The sane element of society is certainly entitled, in self-defense, not only to suppress the itinerant evangelist who transforms divine worship into a mental debauch, but to apply the soft pedal to every preacher who devotes his energies to the task of making work for the neurologist and the insanity expert.

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AMBASSADOR BAYARD.

THE entire country is discussing the resolution recently introduced, demanding the impeachment of Ambassador Bayard. That our representative at the Court of St. James deserves a severe rebuke must be admitted by all impartial men; but the resolution was confessedly a piece of political clap-trap, intended solely to promote the fortunes of the g. o. p. The Republican leaders admit as

much. They confess that there was no intention of pushing the matter to a conclusion, but to bring on a discussion and create prejudice against the Democratic party— to make a grandstand play to ingratiate themselves with the groundlings. Mr. Bayard was indiscreet and undiplomatic, if not unpatriotic, in criticizing a long established American policy and taking a fling at his own people for the delectation of a notoriously anti-American audience. Had a man like Jefferson or Jackson occupied the White House at the time, Ambassador Bayard would have been curtly informed that he was not sent abroad to indulge in political harangues or public discussions of America's economic methods and their effect upon national morals. Were the matter left to a vote of the people Mr. Bayard would unquestionably receive the bounce, and that in one time and two motions; but, by introducing an impeachment resolution for the sole purpose of playing upon American patriotism for political purposes, the Republicans have been guilty of a grosser insult to this mighty Yankee Nation than has the object of their turgid criticism and intemperate abuse. Bayard's inordinate egotism and blind partizanship made of him a diplomatic Benedict Arnold instead of a worthy successor of Benjamin Franklin; the Republican leaders deliberately assumed a virtue they did not have, to humiliate the administration and make partizan capital, then laughed at the trick as a smart piece of political skull-duggery. It was eminently in line with their avowed intention of doing as little as possible at this session of Congress, to the end that the present unhappy condition of the country may be prolonged into the next presidential campaign and the blame thereof thrown upon their political opponents. It was an apt illustration of the shameful fact that the leaders of the various political parties are not laboring to promote the general welfare, but

rather to get and hold the pie-counter as long as possible. Nine-tenths of the bills and resolutions introduced in Congress are framed with an eye single to political effect-are simply buncombe intended to affect the ballot-box.

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A SACRIFICE FOR COUNTRY'S SAKE. I HAVE received a communication from Cleburne, Texas, from which I reverently lift the following paragraph:

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I believe that Texas is just tired enough of the machine politicians and grandstand Charley-horses to elect you governor, if you would become a candidate."

I have been afraid all along that, in her dire extremity, Texas would turn to me to save her. I trust that I have not shirked my duty as an American citizen: still I confess, with a feeling akin to shame, that I have kept as much as possible from political conventions, lest, in an evil hour, I should be selected to make this supreme sacrifice for Texas' sake. When Hogg drew the gubernatorial black bean I could only shudder and wring his lily-white hand in silent agony. When the lot fell to Culberson, the good and beautiful, I feared that it would be my turn next; and now the bolt, if not actually fallen, is poising for its flight. Reforms, like revolutions, never go backward. My Cleburne correspondent has applied the match to the powder-barrel, and soon the whole State will be ablaze. I've got to either jump into the river or serve as governor. The moment the ministerial associations learn that I've been " mentioned" they'll shuck their coats and begin to roll up votes in blocks-of-five for the " Apostle." Cranfill will take the stump in my behalf, Dr. Burleson will organize the cadets into an ICONOCLAST, Wherein Riggins will supply the campaign fund from the plethoric coffers

of the Texas Industrial etc., etc., association, while Rebecca Merlindy Johnson will don her bustle and get up and hustle to further the political fortunes of her own true love. There is not the slightest hope that I'll fail of election with such a combine pulling back on the towline like a Norman stallion yanking a red cart down a plank road. Old political parties will put forward candidates as a mere formality; but they'll make no fight, and I'll be elected by default. I might as well submit to the inevitable. Candidates for the appointive offices will please file their applications early, accompanied by two years' subscription to the ICONOCLAST, which will take the place of both the civil and criminal codes during my administration. I have but one request to make as I am led forth to the sacrifice as a sheep to the shambles: Let the dear good people elect Epictetus Paregoric Hill, of the Houston Post, to the attorney-generalship. It will afford him a reasonable excuse to cut loose from the journalistic corpse that is fast absorbing his substance.

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GONE MATHEMATICALLY MAD. TEXAS' progressive department of agriculture has at last succeeded, with the aid of a little political ergotine, in getting itself delivered of the report with which it became pregnant in 1893. Quite naturally, the child was stillborn, and its birth and burial occurred on the same day— a stiff collection being taken up among the taxpayers to defray expenses. The report is a six hundred-page book which deals exclusively with ancient history, and will not command a moment's attention from a dozen people in Texas. Not even the statistical cranks care a continental about Texas' crops in years agone; they have been sold

and the money blown in. And if they did care, I defy any mortal son of Adam's misery to glean one atom of intelligent information from the aforesaid expensive report. It resembles the Arabic numerals on a drunken debauch. It is about as intelligible as Egyptian hieroglyphs to the average college graduate. What is true is esoteric, and what is esoteric is self-evidently absurd. Delving into it were about as profitable as applying historical criticism to the tales of Tom Ochiltree. In this alleged land of intelligence millions upon millions are regularly wasted in the compilement and printing of statistics that are as useless to the general public as a plug hat to the man in the moon. All the important information they contain is in the possession of interested parties long before they are compiled; while the common people no more think of reading them than of perusing a patent office report or the editorial page of the Houston Post. The last United States census is a case in point. It was begun in 1890, and, if God is good to the compilers—and the appropriations hold out-the completed work may be ready for its utterly useless delivery during the first decade of the twentieth century. The future antiquarian, who examines this ridiculous rubbish, will conclude that the Americans had run figure mad.

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One of the dirtiest crusades yet inaugurated by that secret, oath-bound, omnium gatherum known to all broadgauged men as the Aggregation of Political Asses is now afoot in Missouri. The A.P.A. has set deliberately at work to tax Catholic schools, hospitals and eleemosynary institutions out of existence. Of course it does not overtly avow its intention, preferring, like all those whose deeds are evil, to operate in the dark. It has a committee to do the dirty work, and the parties comprising it are eminently