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^ ISSUED SEMI- WEEKLY^ l. m. grist & sons, Publishers. 1 % Jfamili) jflcu'spupcr: ^or promotion of flic political, ?ociat, gigrirullural, and Commercial Interests off (he people. " ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1899. NO. 103. " " "" " ~ ' ~ ' ~ ~ :r"~ : r : ~ . . i " n ~ n z : i i in ( * * .?.. t* * By REV. CHARLE * Author of "In His Steps: "Wha * Kirk," "Robert Hards * * ~ * * ComtriQhL 1899, by The 2 t CHAPTER I. Philip Strong could not decide what was best to do. The postman that evening had brought him two letters, aud he had just finished reading them. He sat with his hands clasped over his knee, leaning back in his chair and looking out through his study window. He was evidently thinking very hard, and the two letters were the cause of it. Finally he lore, went to his study door and called down the stairs: "Sarah, I wish you would come up here. I want your help." "All right. Philip. I'll be up in a minute." responded a voice from below, and very soon the minister's wife came up stairs into her husband's study. "What's the matter?" she said us she came into the room. "It must be something very serious, for you don't call me up here unless you are in great distress. You remember the last time you called me. you had shut the tassel of your dressing gown under the lid of your writing desk, and I had to cut you loose. You areu't fast anywhere now, are you?" Philip smiled quaintly. "Yes. I am. I'm In a strait betwixt two. Let me read these letters, and you will see." So he began at once, and we will copy the letters, omitting dates: Calvarv Chcrch, Milton. Rev. Philip Strong: Pear Sir?At a meeting ot the Milton Calvary church, held last week, it was voted unanimously to extend you a call to become pastor of this church at a salary of $2,000 a year. We trust that you will find it in accordance with the will of the Head of the church to accept this decision on the part of Calvary church and become its pastor. The church is in good condition and has the hearty support of most of the leading families in the town. It is the strongest in membership and financially ot the seven principal churches here. We await your reply, confidently hoping you will decide to come to us. We have been without a settled pastor now for nearly a year, since the death of Dr. Brown, and we have united upon you as the person most eminently fitted to fill the nninit of falvarv church. The grace of our Lord be with you. In behalf of the church. William Winter. Chairman of the Board of Trustees. "What do .vou think of that. Sarah?" asked Philip Strong, as he finished the letter "Two thousand dollars is twice as much as you are getting now. Philip." "What, you mercenary little creature, do you think of the salary first?" "If 1 did not think of it once in awhile. 1 douht if you would have a de REV chaklks m. snELDoist. cent meal or a good suit of clothes," replied the minister's wife, looking at him with n smile "Oh. well, that uia.v he. Sarah. But let me read you the other letter." he went on without dfceussiug the salary matter: Chapel IIill Church. Kludale. Rev. Philip Strong: Dear Brother? At a meeting of the Elmdale Chapel Hill church, held last week Thursday, it was unanimously voted to extend you a call to become pastor of the church at a salary of $2,000 a year, with two months' vacation, to be selected at your own convenience. The Chapel llill church is in a prosperous condition, and many of the members recall your career in the college with much pleasure. This is an especially strong center for church work, the proximity of the boys' academy and the university making the situation one of great power to a man who thoroughly understands and enjoys young tnen. as we know you do. We most earnestly hope you will consider this call not a6 purely formal, but as front the hearts of the people. We are. very cordially yours, in behalf of the church, I'ropkssor weluman, Chairman of the Hoard of Trustees. "Wlint do you think of that?" asked the minister agaiu. "The salary is just the same, isn't it?" "Now. Sarah." said the minister, "if 1 didn't know what a generous, unselfish heart von really have. 1 should get very vexed at you for talking about the salary as if that was the most important tiling." "The salary is very important, though. But you know. Philip. I would tie as willing as you are to live on no salary if the grocer and butcher would continue to feed us for nothing. 1 wish from the bottom of my heart that we could live without money." "It is a bother, isn't it?" replied Philip. so gravely that his wife laughed heartily at his tone. "Well, the question is. what to do with the letters." resumed the minister. "Which of the two churches do you prefer?" asked his wife. "I would rather go to the Chapel Hill church as far as my preference is concerned." "Then why not accept their call, if that is the way you feel?" "Because, while 1 should like to go to Elmdale, I feel as if I ought to go to Milton." i w sin I . * If S M. SHELDON, * t Would Jesus DoP" "Malcom : O r'a Seven Days," Etc. ? ? it 1 dvance Publishing Co. * "Now, Philip. I ilou't see why. in a choice of this kind, you don't do as you feel inclined to do and accept the call that pleases you most. Why should ministers be doing what they ought instead of what they like? You never please yourself." "Well. Sarah." replied I'liilip good nuturedly. "this is the way of it. The church in Elmdale is in a university town. The atmosphere of the place is scholastic. Yon know I passed four years of student life there. With the exception of the schools, there are not a thousand people iu the village, a quiet, sleepy, dull, retired, studious place. I love the memory of It. 1 could go there as the pastor of the Elmdale church and preach to an audience of college hoys eight months in the year and to about SO refined, scholarly people the rest of the time. 1 could indulge my taste for reading and writing and enjoy a quiet pastoragt there to the end of my days." "Then. Philip. 1 dou't see why you dou't reply to their call and tell them you will accept, and we will move at ouce to Elmdale and live and die there. It is a beautiful place, aud 1 am sure we could live very comfortably on the salary and the vacation. There is no vacation mentioned in the other call." "But. on the other hand." continued the minister, almost .as if he were alone aud arguing with himself and had not heard his wife's words, "on the other hand, there is Milton, a manufacturing town of 50.0(10 people, mostly opera tives. It is the center of much that belongs to the stirring life of the times in which we live. The labor question is there in the lives of those operatives. There are seven churches of different denominations, to the best of my knowledge, all striving after popularity and power There is much hard, stern work to be done iu .Milton by the true church of Christ, to apply ltis teachings to men's needs, and somehow I cannot help hearing a voice say: 'Philip Strong, go to Milton and work for Christ. Abandon your dream of a parish where you may indulge your love of scholarship in the quiet atmosphere of a university town and plunge into the hard. in., inn iiwi'Ksstrv work of this ago. in tlit' atmosphere of physical labor, where great questions are being iliscusseil ami the masses are engrossed in the terrible struggle for liberty and home, where physical life thrusts Itself out into society, trampling down the spiritual and intellectual and demanding of the church and the preacher the tighting powers of giants of Uod to restore in men's souls a more just proportion of the value of the life of man on earth.' "So. you see. Sarah." the minister went on after a little pause. "I want to go to Llmdalc. hut the Lord probably wants me to go to Milton." Mrs. Strong was silent. She had the utmost faith in her husband that be would do exactly what he kuew he ought to do when once he decided what it was Philip Strong was also silent a moment At last he said. "Don't you thiuU so. Sarah?" "I don't see how we can always tell exactly what the Lord wants us to do How can you tell that he doesn't want you to go to Llmdulc? Are there not great opportunities to influence young student life in a university town? Will *?-.. I.. I . 1 1... | Hot so 1110 oho go to raumuie auu ueconio pastor of that churchV" *iNo doubt there is a ueccssary work to ho (lotto there. The only questiou is. Am 1 the oue to do it or is the call to Milton more imperative? The more I think of it. the more 1 am convinced that I must go to Milton." "Then." said the minister's wife, rising suddenly and speaking with a utock seriousness that her husband fully understood. "I don't see why yon called me up here to decide what you had evidently settled before you called me. Do you consider that fair treatment. sir? It will serve you right if those biscuits I put in the oven when you called uie are fallen as completely as Ha by Ion. And I will make you eat half a dozen of them. sir. to punish you. We cannot afford to waste anything these times." "What." cried Philip slyly, "not on $2,000 a year! Hut I'll eat the biscuits. They can't possibly be any worse than those we had a week after we were married?the ones we bought from the )> >v*iiii I'iMiwimher." l'hilin added hastily. "You saved yourself just in time, then." replied the minister's wife. She eanie elose up tu the desk and in a different tone said. "IMiilip. you know 1 believe in you. don't you7" "Yes." said Philip simply. "1 am sure you do 1 am impulsive and impractical; but. heart and soul and body and mind. I simply want to do the will of <!od. Is it not soV" "I know it is." she said, "and if you p> to Milton it will he because you want to do his will more than to please yourself " "Yes Then shall 1 answer the letter tonight 7" "Yes. if you have decided, with my help, of course." "Of course, you foolish creature, you know I could not settle it without you. And as for the biscuits"? "As for the biscuits." said the min's-l ter's wife, "they will be settled without me. too. if 1 don't tro down and see to them." She hurried dowu stairs, and! Philip Strong, with a smile anil a sigh, took up his pen and wrote replies to the calls he had received, refusing the call to Elniilale and accepting the one to Milton. And so the strange story of a great hearted man really began. When lie had finished writing these two letters, he wrote another, which throws so much light on his character and his purpose in going to Milton that we will iusc-rt that in this story as being necessary to its full understanding. This is the letter: My Dear Alfred?Two years ago, when we le!t the seminary, you remember we promised each other in case either of us left his present parish he would let the other know at once. I did not suppose when I came that I should leave so soon, but 1 have just written a letter which means the beginning of a new life to me. The Calvary church in Milton has given me a call, and I have accepted ii. i\vo iiiuiiiiis um? hit vnu?v?< uvi W practically went out of existence through a union with the other church on the street. The history of that movement is too long for me to relate here, but since it took place I have been preaching as a supply, pending the 8nal settlement of "Iam omvinccd that J must <jo to Milton." affairs, and so 1 was at liberty to accept a call elsewhere. 1 must confess the call (ruin Milton was a surprise to me. I have never been there (you know I do not believe in candidating for a place), and so I suppose their church committee came up here to listen to me. Two years ago nothing would have induced me to go to Milton. Today it seems perfectly clear that the Lord says to me, "Go." You know my natural inclination is toward a quiet, scholurly pastorate. Well, Milton is, as you know, a noisy, dirty, manufacturing town, full of workingmen, cursed with saloons ar.d black with coal smoke and unwashed humanity. The church is quite strong in membership. The "Year Book" gives it 500 members last year, and it is composed almost entirely of the leading families in the place. What I can do in such a church remains to be seen. My predecessor there. Dr. Brown, was a profound sermonizer and generally liked, I believe. He was a man of the old school and made no attempt, 1 understand, to bring the church into contact with the masses. You will say that such a church is a poor place in which to attempt a different work. I do not necessarily think so. The church of Christ is in itself. I believe, a powerful engine to set in motion against all evil. 1 have great faith in the membership of almost any church in this country to accomplish wonderful things for humanity. and I am going to Milton- with that faith very strong in me. I feel as if a very great work could be done there. Think of it, Alfrcdl A town of 50,000 workingmen, half of them foreigners: a town with more than 60 saloons in full blast, a town with seven churches of many different denominations all situated on one street and that street the most fashionable in the place, a town where the police records show an amount of crime and depravity almost unparalleled in municipal annals?surely such a place presents an opportunity for the true church of Christ to do some splendid work. I hope I do not overestimate the needs of the place. I have known the general condition of things in Milton ever since you and I did our summer work in the neighboring town of Clifton. If ever there was missionary ground in America, it is there. I cannot understand just why the call comes to me to go to a place and take up work that in many ways is so distasteful to me. In one sense I shrink from it with a sensitiveness which no one except my wife and you could understand. You know what an almost ridiculous excess of sensibility I have. It seems - ,1? .....I. SOmC'lUllUS lIlipoSSIUIC lur IIIC lu uv nil.- nmi mill the active ministry of this age demands of a man. It almost kills me to know that I am criticised for all that I say and do. And yet I know that the ministry will always be the target for criticism. I have an almost morbid shrinking front the thought that people do not like me, that I am not loved by everybody, and yet I know that if I speak the truth in my preaching and speak it without regard to consequences some one is sure to become offended and in the end dislike me. I think God never made a man with so intense a craving for the love of his fellow men as I possess, and yet I am conscious that I cannot make myself understood by very many people. They will always say. "How cold and unapproachable lie is!" when in reality I love them with yearnings of heart. Now, then. 1 am going to Milton with all this complex thought of myself. and yet. dear chum, there is not the least doubt after all that I ought to go. 1 hope that in the rush ot the work there I shall lie able to forget myself, and then the work will stand out prominent as it ought. With all my doubts of tnvself I never question the wisdom of entering the ministry. I have a very positive assurance as I work that I am doing what I ought to do. And what can a man ask more? I am not dissatisfied with the ministry, only with my own action within it. It is th-- noblest of all professions. I feel proud of it every day. Only it is so great that it makes a man feel small when he steps inside. Well, my wife is calling me down to tea. Let me know what you do. We shall move to Milton next week, probably; so, if you write, direct there. As ever, your old chum, Philip Stuono. It was characteristic of Philip that in this letter he said nothing about his call to Klmdale and did uot tell his col logo clium what salary was offered him by the cliureh at Milton. As a matter of fact, be really forgot all about everything. except tlie one important event of his decision to go to Milton. He regarded it, and rightly so. as the most serious step of his life, and while he had apparently decided the matter very quickly it was. in reality, the result of a deep conviction that he ought to go. He was in the habit of making his decisions rapidly. This habit sometimes led him into embarrassing mistakes and once in a great while resulted in humiliating reversals of opinion, so that people who did not know him thought he was fickle and changeable. In the present case Philip acted with his customary quickness and knew very well that his action was unalterable. CHAPTER II. Within a week Philip Strong had moved to Milton, as the church wished -- ... TJ.nl iiiiii 10 occupy me |mu|iu <h parsonage was a well planned liouse next the church, and his wife soon made everything look very homelike. The first Sunday evening after Philip preached in Milton, for the first time, lie chatted with his wife over the events of the day as they sat before a cheerful op>n fire in the large grate.J It was late in the fall and the nights were sharp and frosty. "Are you tired tonight. Philip?" asked his wife. "Ye.-, the day has been rather try ing. Did you tliink t was nervous? t Did I preach well?" Philip was not f vain in the least. lie simply put the 1 question to satisfy his own exacting 1 demand on himself in preaching. And i there was not a person in the world to 1 whom he would have put such a ques- : tiou except his wife. i "No, I thought you did splendidly. 1 i felt proud of you. You made some 1 queer gestures, and once you put one t of your hands in your pocket. But your ' sermons were both strong and effect- i ive. I am sure the people were im- I pressed. It was very still at both serv- I ices." i Philip was silent a moment. And his < wife went on: i "I am sure we shall like It here, * Philip. What do you thina r "I cannot tell yet There is very 1 much to do." "How do you like the church building?" "It is an easy audience room for my voice. 1 don't like the arrangement of the choir over the front door. I think the choir ought to be down on the platform in front of the people, by the side of the minister." "That's one of your hobbles, Philip. But the singing was good, didn't you think so?" "Yes. the choir Is a good one. The congregation didn't seem to sing much, and 1 believe in congregational singing, even when there is a choir. But we can bring that about in time, 1 think." "Now. Philip." said his wife, in some alarm, "you are not going to meddle with the singing, are you? It will get you into trouble. There Is a musical committee in the church, and such committees are very sensitive about any Interference." "Well," said Philip, rousing up a little. "the singing is a very important part of the service. And it seems to me I ought to have something important to say about it. But you need not fear, Sarah. I'm not going to try to change everything all at once." His wife looked at him a little anxiously. She had perfect faith In Philip's honesty of purpose, but she sometimes had a fear of his impetuous desire to reform the world. After a little pause she spoke again, changing the subject. 1 "What did you think of the congrega- ( tion, Philip?" "I enjoyed it. I thought it was very ' attentive. There was a larger number out this evening than 1 had expected." "Did you like the looks of the peo- 1 pie?" "They were all very nicely dressed." "Now. Philip, you know that Isn't what I mean. Did you like the peo- ' pie's faces?" "You know I like all sorts and condl- ! tlons of men." "Yes, but there are audiences and au- 1 diences. Do you think you will enjoy preaching to this one in Calvary ' church ?" "I think 1 shall," replied Philip, but j he said It in a tone that might have | meant a great deal more. Again there ^ was silence and again the minister's ( wife was the first to break it "There was a place In your sermon , LUUlgLll, rump, wucic juu appeal cm the least bit embarrassed, as you seem sometimes at borne when you have some writing or some newspaper article on your mind and some one suddenly interrupts you with a question a good way from your thoughts. What was the matter? Did you forget a point?" "No, I'll tell you. From where 1 stand on the pulpit platform I can see through one of the windows over the front door. There is a large electric lamp burning outside, and the light fell directly on the sidewalk across the street. From time to time groups of people weut through that band of light. Of course I could not see their faces very well, but I soon found out that they were mostly the young men and women operatives of the mills. They were out strolling through the street, which, I am told, is a favorite promenade with them. I should think as many as 200 passed by the church while I was preaching. Well, after awhile 1 began to ask myself whether there was any possible way of getting those young people to come into the church instead of strolling past? And then I looked at the people in front of me and saw how different they were \ front those outside and wondered if it wouldn't be better to close ud the church and go and preach on the street where the people are. And so, carrying on all that questioning with myself, while I tried to preach, causing a little 'embarrassment,' as you kindly call it, in the sermon." "I should think so! But how do you know. Philip, that those people outside were in any need of your preaching?" Philip appeared surprised at the question. He looked at his wife, and her face was serious. "Why. doesn't everybody need preaching? They may not stand in need of my preaching perhaps, but they ought to have some preaching. And 1 cannot help thinkiug of what is the duty of the church in this place to the great crowd outside. Something ought to be done." "Philip. I am sure your work here will be blessed. Don't you think so?" "I know it will." replied Philip, with the assurance of a very positive but spiritually minded man. He never thought his Master was honored by asking him for small tilings or doubting the power of Christianity to do great things. And always when lie said "I" he , simply meant, not Philip Strong, but > Christ in Philip Strong. To deny the | power and worth of that incarnation f was. to his mind, not humility, but t treason. I \ The Sunday following Philip made 1 this announcement to the people: L' "Beginning wit.Fi next Sunday mom- v ing. I shall give the first of a series of ^ monthly talks ou 'Christ and Modern * Society.' It will be my object iu these talks to suppose Christ himself as the v one speaking to modern society 011 its ^ sins, its needs, its opportunities, its 11 responsibilities, its everyday life. I 'I1 mall try to be entirely loving and just ind courageous in giving what I beleve Christ himself would give you if jo were the pastor of Calvary church n Milton today. So. during the talks, 1 ivish you would, with tne. try to see if t-ou think Christ would actually say ivhat I shall say in his place. If Christ ivere in Miltou today. I believe he tvould speak to us about a good many hings in Miltou. and he would speak rery plainly, and in many cases he night seem to be severe. But it would je for our good. Of course 1 am but juman in my weakness. I shall make Mistakes. 1 shall probably say things Christ would not say. But always gonrr tn tliu cnnrr-P r>f nil true lll'ln. tllp spirit of truth, I shall, as best a man nay. speak as I truly believe Christ Evould if he were your pastor. These :alks will be given on the tirst Sunday )f every month. I eanuot announce ;he subjects, for they will be chosen is the opportunities arise." During the week Philip spent several lours of each day in learning the facts concerning the town. One of the first :hings he did was to buy an accurate nap of the place. He hung it up on :he wall of his study and in after days Pound oecasiou to make good use of it. Be spent afternoons walking over the :own. lie noted with special interest tnd earnestness the great brick mills jy the river, five enormous structures ivith immense chimneys, out of which joured great volumes of smoke. Some:hing about the mills fascinated him. They seemed like monsters of some sort. grim, unfeeling, but terrible. As me walked by them he seemed to feel ;he throbbing of the hearts of five creatures. The unpainted tenements, ugly n their unfailing similarity, affected Philip with a sense of almost anger. He had a keen and truthful taste in natters of architecture, and those Soxes of houses offended every artistic ind homelike feeling in him. Coming lome one day past the tenements, he Pound himself in an unknown street, ind for the curiosity of it he undertook :o count the saloons on the street in )ne block. There were over 12. There Evas a policeman on the corner as Philp reached the crossing, and he inluired of the officer If he could tell him who owned the property in the block containing the saloons. "1 believe most of the houses belong :o Mr. Winter, sir." "Mr. William Winter?" asked Philip. "Yes. I think that's the name. He Is the largest owner in the Ocean mill ponder." Philip thanked the man and went on toward home. "William Winter!" he exclaimed. "Is It possible that man will accept a revenue from the renting if his property to these vestibules of hell? That man! One of the leading members In my church! Chalrmau of the board of trustees and a leading citizen of the place! It does not seem possible!" But before the week was out Philip had discovered facts that made his heart burn with shame and his mind rouse with indignation. Property in the town which was being used for saloons. gambling houses and dens of wickedness was owned in large part jy several of the most prominent members of his church. There was no loubt of the fact. Plilllp. whose very aature was frankness itself, resolved to go to these men and have a plain talk with them about It. It seemed to him like a monstrous evil that a Christian believer, a church member, should ae renting his property to these dens of rice and taking the money. He called an Mr. Winter, but he was out of town ind would not be back until Saturday aight. He went to see another member who was a large owner in one of the aiills and a heavy property owner. It was not a pleasant thing to do, but Philip boldly stated the precise reason for Lis call and asked his member n 11 "Is it right, my brother?'' ;vas true that he rented several bouses u a certain block where saloons and ,'ambling houses were numerous. The nan looked at Philip, turned red and inally said it was a fact, but noue of Philip's business "My dear brother." said Philip, with i sad but winning smile, "you cannot marine what it costs me to come to *011 about this matter. In one sense it nay seem to you like an impertinent noddling in your busiuess In another tense it is only what I ought to do as lastor of a church which is dearer to lie than my life. And I have come to rou as a brother in Christ to ask you f it seems to you like a thing which Christ would approve that you. his lisciple. should allow the property vhicli lias come into your hands that roil may use it for his glory and the juilding up of his kingdom to be used iy the agents of the devil while you fino nnlnl lionntft la ft rlirllt truj/ HIV IUII1U\.IU* I'vuvub. ? *Omv' ny brother?'* The man to whom the question was >ut made the usual excuses, that if he lid not rent to these people other men you Id, that there was no call for the iroperty by other parties and if it were lot rented to objectluiiaoie people It rould lie empty at a dead loss, and so orth. To all of which 1'hilip opposed he plain will of God. that ail a man las should be used in clean and honest rays, and he could never sanction the letting of money through such imnoral channels. The man was finally uduced to acknowledge that it was nut Just the rlgut twng to no act especuii- \ ly for a church member. 3ut when i Philip pressed him to give up the whole iniquitous revenue and clear himself of all connection with it the property owner looked aghast. "Why. Mr. Strong, do you know what you ask? Two-thirds of the most regular part of my Income is derived from these rents. It is out of the question for me to give them up. You are loo nice iu tue uiaiier. ah mt* prop- i erty owners In Milton do tlie same tiling. There isn't a man of any means In the church who isn't deriving some revenue froui this source. Why. a large part of your salary is paid from these very rents. You will get into trouble if you try to meddle in this matter. I don't take offense. I think you have done your duty. And 1 confess it doesn't seem exactly the thing. But, 1 as society is organized. 1 don't see that we can change the matter. Better not , try to do anything about it. Mr. Strong, ^ The church likes you and will stand by j in giving you a handsome support, but < men are very touchy when their pri- \ vate business is meddled with." 1 Philip sat listening to this speech, i and his face grew whiter and he t clinched bis hands tighter as the man i went on. When he had tiuished. Philip < spoke iu a low voice: t "Mr. Bentley. you do not know me < if you think any fear of the conse- t quences will prevent my speaking to ? the members of my church on auy mat I ter where it seems to me 1 ought to i speak. Iu this particular matter 1 be- t lieve it is not ouly my right but my t duty to speak I would be shamed before my Lord and Master if 1 did uot t declare his will in regard to the uses of t property. This question passes over 1 from one of private busiuess. with t which I have no right to meddle, into r the domain of public safety, where 1 c have a right to demand that pluces t which are fatal to the life und morals t of the young men and women of the t town shall uot be eueouraged and al- \ lowed to subsist through the use of I property owned uud eoutrolled by men r of influence in the community and es- ! pecially by the members of Christ's ? body. My brother." I'hllip went on c after a painful pause, "before (Jod. In f. whose presence we shall stand at last, J am I not right in my view of this mat- i ter? Would not Christ say to you just t what I am now saying?" e Mr. Beutley shrugged his shoulders t and said somethiug about not trying to 1 mix up business and religion. Philip a sat looking at the man, readiug him t through and through, his heart almost a bursting in him at the thought of what a a man would do for the sake of money * At last be saw that he would gain t uothing by prolonging the argumout. e He rose, and with the same sweet a frankness which characterized his c opeuing of the subject ho said: "Rrotb- a er. I wish to tell you that it is my in- t tent ion ^ to speak of this matter next t Sunday in the first of my talks on f 'Christ and Modern Society.' I be- a lieve it is something he would talk t about in public, and 1 will speak of it t as I tbiuk be would." r "You must do your duty, of course, a Mr. Strong." replied Mr. Bentley, some- a what coldly, and Philip went out, feel- ' ing as if be had grappled with bis first a dragon in Milton and found blm to be a a very ugly one and hard to kllL What c hurt him as much as the lack of splr a itual fineness of apprehension of evil 1 In his church member was the knowl- I edge that, as Mr. Beutley so coarsely a put it. his salary was largely paid out c of the reutals of those vile abodes. He ^ grew sick at heart as he dwelt upon c the disagreeable fact, and as he came e back to the parsonage and went up to r his cozy study he groaned to think e that it was possible through the price f that men paid for souls. v "And this because society is as it is!" he exclaimed, as be buried his face in * his hands and leaned his elbows on his v desk, while his cheeks Hushed and his t heart quivered at the thought of the e filth and vlleness the money had seen t and heard which paid for the very D desk at which he wrote tiis sermons. t But Philip Strong was uot one to s give way at the first feeling of seem- e iug defeat. He did uot too harshly o condemn his members. He wondered s at their lack of spiritual life; but. to v his credit be it said, he did not harshly h condemn. (July, as Sunday approach- ti ed. he grew more clear in his own mind c as to his duty in the matter. Expe- ti diency whispered to him: "Better waif- u You have only Just come here. The p people like you now. It will only p cause unpleasant feelings and do no t good for you to launch out into a cru- g sade agaiust this thing right now. S There are so many of your members v Involved that it will certainly alienate their support and possibly lead to your r being compelled to lose your place as n pastor if it do not drive away the most d influential members." V To all this plea of expediency Philip f replied. "Get thee behind me, satan!" s He said with himself, he might as v well let the people know what he was li at the very first. It was not necessary that he should be their pastor If s they would none of him. It was necessary that he preach the truth boldly. ? The one question he asked himself R was. "Would Jesus Christ, if be were d pastor of Calvary church in Milton today. speak of the matter next Sunday and speak regardless of all consequences?" Philip asked the question honestly, and after long prayer and . 1- : ? ?~ IIIUCU CO IUII] UIII OH >VlllJ iur Lfitiuc Lie , said. "Yes, I believe be would." It Is possible that he might have gained by j waiting or by working with his mem- ^ bers in private. Another man might have pursued that method and still have been a courageous, true minister. u But this is the story of Philip Stroug, not of another man. and this is what r' he did: C( When Sunday morning came, he a went into his pulpit with the oue thought in mind that he would simply 01 and frankly, in his presentation of the subject, use the language and the spir- " It of his Master. He had seen other property owners during the week; and 81 his Interviews were nearly all similar P to tbe one with Mr. Bentley. He had not been able to see Mr. William Winter, the chairman of the trustees, as he had not returned home until very late Saturday night. Philip saw him come Into the church that morning, just as the choir rose to sing the anthem. He was a large, fine looking man. Philip ldmlred his physical appearance as lie marched down the aisle to his pew, which was the third from the front, directly before the pulpit When the hymn had been sung, the )ffering taken, the prayer made, Philip stepped out at one side of the pulpit ind reminded the congregation that, iccording to his announcement of a week before, he would give the first of us series or mommy uxiiis od -^nrisi ind Modern Society." His subject this nornlng, he said, was "The Right and Wrong Uses of Property." He started out with the statement, ivhlcb he claimed was verified everywhere In the word of God. that all iroperty that men acquire is really inly in the nature of trust funds, which the property holder is in duty lound to use as a steward. The gold s God's. The silver Is God's. The cat:le on a thousand hills, all land and water privileges and wealth of the ;arth and of the seas belong primarily o the Lord of all the earth. When any if this property comes withiu the conrol of a man, he Is not at liberty to ise it as if it were his own and his done, but as God would have him use t to better the condition of life and nake men and communities happier md more useful. From this statement Philip went on o speak of the common idea which nen bad that wealth and houses aud ands were their own to do with as hey pleased, and he showed what nisery and trouble had always flowed iut of the great falsehood and how rntlons and individuals were today In he greatest distress because of the vrong uses to which God's property vas put by men who bad control of it t was easy then to narrow the argunent to the condition of affairs in dilton. As he stepped from the generil to the particular and began to speak >f the rental of saloons und houses of gambling from property owners In dilton and then characterized such a ise of God's property as wrong and in-Christian It was curious to note the ffect on the congregation. Men who lad been listening complacently to 'hilip's eloquent but quiet statements, is long as he confined himself to disant historical facts, suddenly became .ware that the tall, pale faced, resolute ind loving young preacher up there vas talking right at tbem, and more ban one mill owner, merchant, real state dealer and even professionil man writhed inwardly and Derviusly shifted in bis cushioned pew ls Philip spoke in the plainest erms of the terrible example set he world by the use of property or purposes which were destructive to ill true society and a shame to clvilizaion and Christianity. Philip conrolled bis voice and his manner admiably, but he drove the truth home and pared not His voice at no time rose ibove a quiet conversational tone, but t was clear and distinct The audience at bushed in the spell of a geuine senation. which deepened when, at the lose of a tremendous sentence which wept through the church like a redlot flame, Mr. Winter suddenly arose n bis pew. passed out into the aisle md marched deliberately down and tut of the door. Philip saw him and :new the reason, but marched straight ?n with his message, and no one, not ven his anxious wife, who endured nartyrdom for him that morning, ould detect any disturbance in Philip rom the mill owner's contemptuous vithdrawal. When Philip closed with a prayer of ender appeal that the spirit of truth rouid make all hearts to behold the ruth as one soul, the audience remaind seated longer than usual, still under he Influence of the subject and the Qorning's sensational service. All hrough the day Philip felt a certain train on him, which did not subside ven when the evening service was ver. Some of the members, notably everal of the mothers, thanked him cith tears in their eyes for the mornag message. Very few of the men alked with him. Mr. Winter did not oine out to tLie evening service, alliougli he was one of the very few jeu members wlio were Invariably resent. I'bilip noted bis absence, but reached with bis usual enthusiasm, le thought a larger number of straners was present than he had seen the unda.v be/ore. He was very tired hen the day was over. The uext morning as he was getting eady to go out for a visit to one of the lllls. the bell rang, tie was near the oor and opened it. There stood Mr. Viuter. "1 would like to see you for a ew moments. Mr. Strong, if you can pare the time." said the mill owner, .'ithout offering to tatce the band Phil? extended. "Certainly. Will you come up to my tudy?" asked Philip quietly. The two men went up stairs, and 'hilip shut the door, as be motioned Ir. Winter to a seat and then sat own opposite. TO BK CONTINUKD. Becoming a BrltlHh Subject. It is an easv thimr to become a Brit ?h subject. All that an alien has to do s to declare his intention to reside ritliin the British dominions on leavlg liis own country, and forthwith he ikes out his naturalization papers, isued to him by the secretary of state pon liis taking the oath of allegiance. These papers invest him with the [glits and privileges of a Britisher, ex?pt that he is barred from becoming privy councilor or a member of parainent and also barred from accepting thee under the crown. But if an alien e naturalized by special act of parament passed for his own benefit ten he becomes, as much a British abject and has all the rights and rivileges as though a native.