serve its vital principles and to rob it of its evil excrescences, it will, in my judgment, have performed a mighty service for humanity. If, then, the Church will go still farther, and help it on, thus reformed, to political and economic victory, we shall carry out the principles for which Christ contended. I shall make it my business, gentlemen, both in the pulpit and out of it, to urge that policy upon the Church, and upon all Christian people. I believe, Mr. Hughes, that I have answered your question."
He had answered it, indeed. But his answer was anything but comforting or satisfying to the greater part of the gentlemen who sat around him. Colonel Boston was especially indignant.
"Socialism," he declared, growing red in the face, "is a pernicious doctrine; and it doesn't help it any to tack the word Christian to it. There always have been class distinctions in the world, and there always will be. It's human nature. There always have been men of brains and energy and principle who have outraced and outranked their fellows, and there always will be. You can no more reduce living men to a dead level of equality in everything, or in anything, than you can make every blade of grass to grow exactly like every other blade. The thing is simply abhorrent to nature. I'm opposed to socialism in any form, under any name. And, so far as I have any influence, it shall not be preached from the pulpit of Christ Church."
Before the rector could reply, or any one else could break into the discussion, Mr. Claybank, a retired merchant, rose to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket.
"Apropos of Colonel Boston's remarks," he said, "and in line with the thought so well expressed by Mr. Hughes in opening the discussion, and after consultation with one or two of my fellow-vestrymen, I have prepared a resolution which I desire to offer."
He adjusted his eye-glasses with nervous haste, un-
