WHY I BELIEVE THE BIBLE 41
sity town, I saw a little way ahead of me on the street a young fe!low that I lmew. I caught up with him and said to him, " Charlie, how are you getting on? " and with a self-satisfied look he said, "Well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Torrey, I am getting somewhat skeptical.'' I said, " Char lie, what have you been doing?" The poor fellow blushed and dropped his head. Charlie had been sinning, and sin had begotten doubt. This is the history of the genesis of doubt in the hearts of thousands of men to-day. Where is the stronghold of the Bible? The pure, happy, unselfish home. Where is the stronghold of infidelity? The public-house, the race-course, the gambling hell, and the brothel. Suppose that I should come, a stranger to your city, and should go into one of your public houses with a Bible under my arm, lay my Bible down upon the bar, and order a glass of whisky straight, and add, " Make it big," what would happen? There would be great surprise. Quite likely the bartender would say, "Pardon me, but what is that book? Is not that the Bible? " "Yes." "And what did you ask for-a tum bler of whisky straight? " " Yes, and make it large." He would not know what to make of it. But suppose I should enter the public-house and lay upon the bar a copy of any work of In gersoll or of Bradlaugh, a copy of the Clarion, or the Agnostic Journal, or Freethinker, or the most respectable infidel book or paper that there
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