Poetry and profanity is the leading feature we find in this month’s otherwise sober English papers, we are sorry to say. There are two short instances of it. Sings one of them:

“Little Jack Horner sat in a corner,
And whimpered, ‘What’s coming to I?’
For spite of my shouting, the rain it is spouting,
Eternally down from the sky.”

And forthwith the editor, indulging in rather a profane monolgue enquires:—

“Now who says we are not a downright good supernatural lot of old fools. Here’s the Archibishop of Canterbury actually gone and set all the prayers going for fine weather again, just as if we were a lot of niggers worshipping a fetish. Now if these parsons would for once pray a new stick into my umbrella, I’d begin to believe they could do something with the rain. Or stop; if they could pray a patch on the toe of my left-hand boot, and keep out the wet, I’d believe ’em on the spot, or believe they could stop the spots.”

Cause and Effect is another impious thrust at the holy British Brahmins. A Scotch Bard improvises in a Scotch paper in the following strain:—

(The Archibishop of York has followed the example of Dr. Tait, and ordered prayers for fine weather.)

“Ten days ago, the Primate said,
‘For sunshine let us pray’
And then we got, by Jove! instead,
A tempest every day;
And now that York repeats the tale,
I fear it will be found
That if the crops escape the hail,
By wet they will be drowned.”

We wonder, what is the “Salvation Army” about! It certainly ought to be storming Satan’s strongholds and bastions right under the windows of such impious newspapers and those! Nevertheless, it seems to work amazingly hard and could we but view its reports in the same light of infallibility at its heroic feats. The following is the last account of its doings we gather from an English newspaper:—

Doings of the Salvation Army.—The Hallelujah Army Banner gives a lively account of the progress of the work of the Salvation Army in this city. It states that “the devil is raging” in the city, but “Our conquering King came to our assistance, and through Him we were enabled to take one prisoner of war. On Saturday night we started for our stand in the open air, where hundreds gathered round to listen. The devil sent one of his servants to upset us by stirring up the mob to push and drive, but, bless God we are not easily beaten back when we once get a start. With Jesus on our side we came off victorious, and started away with a sweeping procession singing “We’re marching to Zion.” Afterwards there was “a glorious meeting, and six souls fell into the fountain and rose to all the life and power of God . . . It is really wonderful to see how quiet the meetings are, considering the people we get in. Some who have never stood in a place of worship till the army came are to be found every night in our hall.” “Thomas Innes, Happy Sally, and Hallelujah Bessie,” of “The 2nd Edinburgh ‘Royal Blood Washed,’” report that on the night of Friday last “we again unfurled the old blood-stained banner, and, led on by Happy Sally and Hallelujah Bessie, renewed our attack on sin, the world and the devil. Twelve of our soldiers attacked the devil inside by volley after volley of experience shot, which took effect on the enemy in a hallelujah style . . . Three young men, over six feet each, or eighteen feet of sin and misery got cleanse by washing in the fountain.” On Sabbath evening last, “eighteen sin-stained souls got the peace the world cannot give. One of them, a general in the devil’s army, who in the past led the roughs against us, fell into the fountain, and is now leading souls to the feet of Jesus. Hallelujah! On Monday night Miss Gault led the attack and, glory be to God, the Royal Bloo Washed came off victorious. Eight souls got the cleansing blood applied, and were made clean. The victory was easily won, as the devil had not recovered from the astonishment he received at his defeat on Sunday. Some of the devil’s soldiers tried to upset the meeting on Tuesday night, but our captain upset seven of them, and they fell into the fountain.” The report closes by saying—“We are expecting a mighty smash tomorrow night. Oh, Lord, send the arrow deep, that the devil can’t take it out Lord, send a large hall!”

And to this we may add our own prayer: “Oh Lord, how easy it would be for you to ‘smash’ the devil at once without any ‘Hall’ or ‘Army’ and so extirpate evil and misery for ever from this world of sorrow! Oh, Lord, it is because, alleged Omniscient, and Omnipotent and Just (!!) you have nevertheless ever refused to do so, or even to give us a sign of your existence, and that you are now allowing instead, a whole ‘Army’ of fanatical zealots, who ought to be at home mending their shoes and stockings, and wiping their children’s noses, to roam about—an army of lunatics caricaturing their religion—that so many good people reject the devil and even doubt your own Being, whose fault is it, Oh, Lord? Not ours, that is evident, but rather that of the brains you have furnished our heads and Reason you have endowed man with.”