having dawned when the Church's most dangerous enemies were those
critical vipers whom she had warmed in her own bosom.

Suffield, the gaunt, dark, but twinkling-eyed Methodist, also sniffed
at the conclusion of the ethnic-trinities person. "We have an age of
substitutes," he remarked. "We have had substitutes for silk and
sealskin--very creditable substitutes, so I have been assured by
a lady in whom I have every confidence--substitutes for coffee,
for diamonds--substitutes for breakfast which are widely
advertised--substitutes for medicine--and now we are coming to have
substitutes for religion--even a substitute for hell!"

Hereupon he told of a book he had read, also written by an orthodox
professor of theology, in which the argument, advanced upon scriptural
evidence, was that the wicked do not go into endless torment, but
ultimately shrivel and sink into a state of practical unconsciousness.
Yet the author had been unable to find any foundation for universalism.
This writer, Suffield explained, holds that the curtain falls after the
judgment on a lost world. Nor is there probation for the soul after the
body dies. The Scriptures teach the ruin of the final rejecters of
Christ; Christ teaches plainly that they who reject the Gospel will
perish in the endless darkness of night. But eternal punishment does not
necessarily mean eternal suffering; hence the hypothesis of the soul
gradually shrivelling for the sin of its unbelief.

The amiable Presbyterian sniffed at this as a sentimental quibble.
Punishment ceases to be punishment when it is not felt--one cannot
punish a tree or an unconscious soul. But this was the spirit of the
age. With the fires out in hell, no wonder we have an age of sugar-candy
morality and cheap sentimentalism.