The man with the rough-hewn countenance, unfortunately not here to-day, was also sincere in an entirely unspiritual sort of way; but, with these exceptions, and himself, of course, the rector knew positively that there was not another uncalloused creature in the room, not one who could be reached by argument, sympathy, or fear! They were past redemption, every last man and woman; and, at the conclusion of the hymn, he rose to cast his pearls before swine, without heart and without interest; for no man is interested in anything which can not possibly be accomplished.
With a feeling of mockery, yet upheld by the thought that he was holding out the way and the light, not only seven times but seventy times seven times, to whatever shred or crumb of divinity might lie unsuspected in these sterile breasts, he strove earnestly to arouse enthusiasm in himself so that he might stir these dead ghosts, even in some minute and remote degree.
Suddenly a harsh and raucous voice interrupted him. It was the voice of Mr. Rogers, and that gentleman, who had apparently secured somewhere the two dollars to tide him over, was now embarked on the tide. He had taken just enough drinks to make him ugly, if that process were possible, and he had developed a particularly strong resentment of the latest injustice which had been perpetrated on him. That injustice consisted of the Reverend Smith Boyd’s refusal to lend him money till a week from next Saturday night; and he had come to expose the rector’s shallow hypocrisy. This he proceeded to do, in language quite unsuited to the chapel of Temple Mission and to the ears of the ladies then present; most of whom grinned.
The proceedings which followed were but brief. The Reverend Smith Boyd requested the intruder to stop. The intruder had rights, and he stood on them! The Reverend Smith Boyd ordered him to stop; but the intruder had a free and independent spirit, which forbade him to accept orders from any man! The Reverend Smith Boyd, in the interests of the discipline without which the dignity and effectiveness of the cause could not be upheld, and pleased that this was so, ordered him out of the room. Mr. Rogers, with a flood of abuse which displayed some versatility, invited the Reverend Smith Boyd to put him out; and the Reverend Smith Boyd did so. It was not much of a struggle, though Mr. Rogers tore two benches loose on his way, and, at the narrow door through which it is difficult to thrust even a weak man, because there are so many arms and legs attached to the human torso, he offered so much resistance that the reverend doctor was compelled to practically pitch him, headlong, across the sidewalk, and over the curb, and into the gutter! The victim of injustice arose slowly, and turned to come back, but he paused to take a good look at the stalwart young perpetrator, and remembered that he was thirsty.
The Reverend Smith Boyd found himself standing in the middle of the sidewalk, with his fists clenched and his blood surging. The atmosphere before his eyes seemed to be warm, as if it were reddened slightly. He was tingling from head to foot with a passion which he had repressed, and throttled, and smothered since the days of his boyhood! He had striven, with a strength which was the secret of his compelling voice, to drive out of him all earthly dross, to found himself on the great example which was without the cravings of the body; he had sought to make himself spiritual; but, all at once, this conflict had roused in him a raging something, which swept up from the very soles of his feet to his twirling brain, and called him man!
For a quivering moment he stood there, alive with all the virility which was the richer because of his long repression. He knew many things now, many things which ripened him in an instant, and gave him the heart to touch, and the mind to understand, and the soul to flame. He knew himself, he knew life, he knew, yes, and that was the wonderful miracle of the flood which poured in on him, he knew love!
He reached suddenly for his watch. Six-ten. He could make it! Still impelled by this new creature which had sprung up in him, he started; but at the curb he stopped. He had been in such a whirl of emotion that he had not realised the absence of his hat. He strode into the mission door, and the rays of the declining sun, struggling dimly through the dingy glass, fell on the scattered little assemblage—as if it had been sent to touch them in mercy and compassion—on the weak, and the poor, and the piteously crippled of soul; and a great wave of shame came to him; shame, and thankfulness, too!
He walked slowly up to the platform, and, turning to that reddened sunlight which bathed his upturned face as if with a benediction, he said, in a voice which, in its new sweetness of vibration, stirred even the murky depths of these, the numb:
“Let us pray.”