THE OLD BOTTLE
149
heavenly Father
bids well
to rival our
earthly Parr ;
but as long
as we sprawl , what
matters it what we
sprawl before, if it be the shin -bone of an ass , or the
pineal gland of our wretched imagination
? Whatever
man has touched he has spoilt :
one day he was struck
with the mystic poetry of the waves , and he promptly
hocussed slimy monsters from
out the
deep ; gazing
on his lithe'and winsome
daughter , he held her head
under
the
green flood
to
satiate
the
rapacity of the
offspring of his deluded imagination , who
(he judged )
appreciated
his dinner , as well
as
he
did
himself .
Having
devised religion , he
by degrees fell into such
excesses
of worship , that religion bid well
to exter
minate his whole
wretched
race ; thereupon
he
dis
closed
science ,
which ,
when
it
has
destroyed
his
former
hobby , will in
its
turn run riot over
all
,
till
it
also
becomes
such
a
pest
,
that
it
too
,
will have
to
give way
to
something better
.
Never contented
,
man
ultimately finds that his double collection
of
manna
rots
.
What the end
will
be
no
one knows
,
and few
care
;
that we shall
ever
reach
a
state
verging
on
perfection
is
most improbable
;
man could not stand
it
for long unless his worldly
span were one
of
unam
bitious
affluence
,
and his heavenly one
of
spasmodic
sensuality and forgetfulness
.
To have plenty
of
money
and
no
ambitions
,
to
eat like
a
hog
,
sleep like
a
hog
,
and
to
breed
like
a
hog
;
to
be
in
a
perpetual state
of
priapism
,
and
to
fall into slumbersome forgetfulness
just when the pleasant
is
beginning
to
pall
,
and then
to
wake again
to
all
the
fury
of
desire
.
These
two
states
,
if
we carefully dissect
the corpse
of
religion
,
we shall find
to
lie
at
its basic foundation
.
On
turning
now
to
the works
before
us
,
we find
traced
therein
an
elaborate
system
rising
from
the