Old Gurmble on the Earth's Fiery Interior

Feilding Star, Volume X, Issue 35, 16 October 1888, Page 3

Old Gurmble on the Earth's Fiery Interior

Science has declared that the earth's interior is in a state of incandescence : a mass of molten fire. That being so, and being a.Uo the nearest available place where there is any ih ing like a respectable degree of heat, all the Christian sects are agreed (I he only point they are agreed upon) that it is into this "fiery interior" the unbeliever shall be sent- Now, as there are about forty different sects, each having its own distinct dogmas and doc trines, which are uncompromisingly opposed to those of the other sects, it is impossible for Grumble to beliere in them all ; so into this fiery region he must go. tie sees no way of getting out of it, and every one else, too, for the matter ot that; for to which evpr creed he pins his faith, the others, by their tenets, proaounce him an unbeliever, and consign him into this horrible abyss of fire as soon as he shall have shuffled off this mortal coil. Not a pleasant outlook is it Mrs Grumble? Ah ! you may well stand aghast at the mere recount al ot it. I do not wonder at it. Homer, the heathen poet, in his conception of TJly. c se< in the Shades, depicted scenes there dismal enough, but yet, w'th all the extravagance of imagination, and a power of description never yet equalled by any other mortal, be did not conceive so dreadful an abode , and the miseries of his Sisiphus and Tantalus pale before the torments of the schismatic in the Chris-

tian hell. May be, Mrs Grumble, that Christianity did not really mean it, but resorted to the representation merely to terrify the ungodly, claiming, as it does, to be a relig'on of love. Let us hope so Yet Grumble cannot forget that, despite its motto of " Peace and good will towards men," the history of Christianity shows that it can be terribly in earnest ; for, in times of old, the apostate and the heretic were g T\?n a foretaste of what they might expect as they were sent into eternity, an i Grumble is inclined to think that < hri*

lianity, like many another bigin.-titufion. claims more than is its due ; und that mild laws, the inculcation and cultivation of good morals and generous sentiments, aided by science, has had a great deal to do wi'.b the improvement of our stale ; else why is it that m this, the nineteenth century, we find countries professing a Christian faith still retaining the infoler ance, the superstition, and the cruelty oj theeailj ages? True, advanced d mes have tempered their opinions to the

times, und discarded the uncharitable doctrine, looking upon it as a remnant of barbarism. Still there are olhers who yet adhere to the " everlasting fire" belief as tenaciously as the generals of

he old school < f discipline did to the cat, fulminating wrath from the pulpit until the nervous got a proper sense of a I jectness, and the bolder begin to question within themselves where the mercifulness comes in. Do I believe about hell being in the interior of the earth ? Well, my dear, the point is ]ust now sub judice, and I cannot express an opinion. One, a professor of theology, affirming it is, and another, "Old Mumble," challenging him to " prove it to a demonstration." A week or two ago such a thing would have been impossible, but now, the Stab informs us, that two instruments have been invented expressly for ascertaining such things : one, a " position finder" ; the other, a " locator," which, if capable of doing what their name implies, will put all further argument at rest, by at once determining whether there is such a place, and, if so, where located But " Old Mumble" wants it proved to a dem onstration," which means that he will not be satisfied until he sees, dragged from the fiery bowels of the earth, no old time ledgerdemam or monkish trickery, but the reul sulphurous and tormenting flames to which we must rendpr up ourselves, where they will be on exhibition on the Square, This is awkward ! lam sure to be invited to witness the demonstration where, exposed to that fervent heat, this none too solid flesh of mine will melt, and I shall become no more substantial than the moonshine's watery beams. Phew ! I can smell the fumes already. (Mrs Grumble has, unobserved by Grumble, been burning some sulphur to cure a sore throat.) I won't go ! I'll just send a polite note begging them to excuse the unavoidable absence of Old G bumble.