all through and through its advertisements that reality is eagerly and persistently recognised.  The hunger of the Trust for the Dollar, its adoration of the Dollar, its lust after the Dollar, its ecstasy in the mere thought of the Dollar—­there has been nothing like it in the world in any age or country, nothing so coarse, nothing so lubricous, nothing so bestial, except a French novel’s attitude towards adultery.

The Dollar is hunted down in all sorts of ways; the Christian-Science Mother-Church and Bargain-Counter in Boston peddles all kinds of spiritual wares to the faithful, always at extravagant prices, and always on the one condition—­cash, cash in advance.  The Angel of the Apocalypse could not go there and get a copy of his own pirated book on credit.  Many, many precious Christian-Science things are to be had there—­for cash:  Bible Lessons; Church Manual; C.S.  Hymnal; History of the building of the Mother-Church; lot of Sermons; Communion Hymn, ’Saw Ye My Saviour,’ by Mrs. Eddy, half a dollar a copy, ’words used by special permission of Mrs. Eddy.’  Also we have Mrs. Eddy’s and the Angel’s little Bible-Annex in eight styles of binding at eight kinds of war-prices:  among these a sweet thing in ’levant, divinity circuit, leather lined to edge, round corners, gold edge, silk sewed, each, prepaid, $6,’ and if you take a million you get them a shilling cheaper—­that is to say, ‘prepaid, $5.75.’  Also we have Mrs. Eddy’s ‘Miscellaneous Writings,’ at noble big prices, the divinity-circuit style heading the extortions, shilling discount where you take an edition.  Next comes ‘Christ and Christmas,’ by the fertile Mrs. Eddy—­a poem—­I would God I could see it—­price $3, cash in advance.  Then follow five more books by Mrs. Eddy at highwaymen’s rates, as usual, some of them in ‘leatherette covers,’ some of them in ’pebbled cloth,’ with divinity circuit, compensation balance, twin screw, and the other modern improvements:  and at the same bargain counter can be had the ‘Christian Science Journal.’  I wish it were in refined taste to apply a rudely and ruggedly descriptive epithet to that literary slush-bucket, so as to give one an accurate idea of what it is like.  I am moved to do it, but I must not:  it is better to be refined than accurate when one is talking about a production like that.

Christian-Science literary oleomargarine is a monopoly of the Mother Church Headquarters Factory in Boston; none genuine without the trade-mark of the Trust.  You must apply there, and not elsewhere; and you pay your money before you get your soap-fat.

The Trust has still other sources of income.  Mrs. Eddy is president (and perhaps proprietor?) of the Trust’s Metaphysical College in Boston, where the student who has practised C.S. healing during three years the best he knew how perfects himself in the game by a two weeks’ course, and pays one hundred dollars for it!  And I have a case among my statistics where the student had a three weeks’ course and paid three hundred for it.