of all the complexities of city life he remained utterly naïve, bound up in his little code, with not the glimmer of a ray of light on social conditions or problems, or of economics, or, in a word, of life. To him there were no social problems that the Anti-Saloon League could not solve in a week, if wicked officials would only give them enough policemen and a free rein to do it.
And so he wondered why the working men would not come to hear him preach, or at least would not listen to him at the door of their shop!
And most of the parsons in the town—at that time, though it is not so any more, so rapidly have changes come in our thought—were of this frame of mind. Not one of them supported our cause; many of them denounced it, and continued to denounce it, for years. Now and then there was one who might whisper to me privately that he understood and favored our efforts, but not one ever spoke out publicly, unless it were to denounce us. And several times they attacked me in their prayers. For instance, if—after I became mayor—I went to deliver an address of welcome, and a preacher was there to open the assembly with prayer, he sometimes would take advantage of the situation and, in the pretense of asking a blessing on the "chief magistrate of our beloved city," point out my shortcomings and read me a lecture on my duties with his eyes shut and his hands folded. To that attack it would have been necessary, I presume, though I am not quite sure of the ecclesiastical etiquette, to reply with my eyes shut and my hands folded, but
