by boldly appealing to the deepest-seated of popular sentiments?’
‘And by boldly throwing Christianity overboard,’ added the other, with a grin.
‘If necessary,’ answered Mr Bristley, in a serious tone. ‘But it may not be necessary—time will show. Rendering Her due to the Mother of God, we shall not rob the Son of Man of that which is rightfully his. His interests are now Hers; his hour is come. But looking only to the Nazarene personally, I believe he would repudiate what we glibly call Christianity, and would say to its respectable and fashionable and orthodox professors, ‘Ye are of your father the devil, and the works of your father ye will do.’ While to those who seek the truth in sincerity, even though they be called heathen, his other words apply, ‘Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord’—not every one who is sprinkled with a rite and ticketed with a creed, is my true disciple, but he who, with or without any theological system, leads a humanitarian life. If circumcision and uncircumcision avail not, no more shall Christianity nor unchristianity. The thing needful is to become a New Man, the New Man of Divine Order.’
At this juncture, faithful little Fidge, who had implored her young mistress to get her taken with the family to London and to the ceremony, and who looked remarkably graceful in her simple cap and snow-white apron upon a dark blue frock, having left her over-wraps in the seat, touched Mrs Newman’s arm, saying excitedly,—
‘Please ’m, the procession’s coming; I’m sure I hear the music!’
‘I heard it before you spoke, Fidge,’ answered Mrs Newman, ‘and, God bless me! they’re playing the Priest’s March in Athalie!’
From that moment the whole scene appeared to Mrs
