This pamphlet is written in the form of a conversational discussion, because in this style information to the reader can be conveyed by a method that is at once simple and agreeable.
The scene of this narrative is a small town in the southwestern part of Tennessee, which we shall call Westminster. In this pretty village is a home of entertainment for strangers. It can scarcely be termed a hotel as it partakes largely of the character of a private residence with accommodations for a limited number of guests, and visitors are attracted to it by its home-like characteristics. A planter named Marshall was the proprietor of the premises, which are known as Harmony Place.
At the particular time of which we write (Sept., 189-), the house had three guests—a lawyer named Brown, who had selected Westminster as a place favorable for the establishment of the practice of his profession; a physician named Slocum, who had a similar intention, and a clergyman named Fitzallen, a tourist who was traveling in the pursuit of health and pleasure.
At this time another visitor made his appearance. He was an attractive looking man aged about thirty, with genial manners and a striking clear method of presenting his thoughts in the course of conversation. This was Charles Durant, who hailed from the West.
The evening of the first day that marked the stranger's advent into Westminster saw the entire personnel of Harmony Place on the veranda.
One subject after another was taken up, discussed and disposed of, or at least laid aside to give way to some other. The conversation proceeded from point to point until the topics of the quiet gathering assumed more the aspect of an intellectual melange than anything else. Two subjects which agitate us nationally and sometimes locally more than any other—politics and religion—had, so far escaped; they had not, however, been unthought of, and presently the latter was begun by the minister saying:
"Representing to some extent, as I do, the church, I am pleased to be able to state that in the matters of organization, discipline and places of worship, America is thoroughly Christianized."
"I partially concur with you," said the lawyer, "and yet I belong to no church at all—do not, in fact, endorse Christianity as a department of civilized life."
"Why, how is this?" said Fitzallen, "I thought nearly everybody in this country must be orthodox to some extent, at least."
"Not so with me, I assure you," the other replied, "and the strange part of it is, that my views are the result of investigation and the peculiar explanations of those who make religious teaching their calling. Those who accept the creeds which are supposed to base their tenets upon the Bible, do not, it appears to me, live up to their professions, and the clergy—no offense intended—are more addicted to money-getting than soul-saving."