bers, or churches under the patronage and domination of certain families of wealth; while the lay members were all of the conservative, substantial, anti-socialistic type. It required no prophetic power to discover with which party to the controversy they would be in sympathy.
After considering the matter, the bishop felt that, after all, it might be better for him to decide the case unaided. But how to decide it; that was the question. If he should comply with the demand of the vestry, and dissolve the pastoral relation, he would not only be putting upon the Church the stigma of catering to the rich, and disregarding and driving out the poor, but he would also be humiliating and disgracing a man who, however mistaken he might be in his methods, had violated no ecclesiastical law, and who was conscientiously and earnestly striving to bring the religion of Jesus Christ home to the common people. On the other hand, were he to sustain the rector, it would mean giving serious offense to those important and wealthy parishioners who in the past had made Christ Church the strongest and most influential body in the diocese. And what then would happen? Undoubtedly the church would be left to its fate; and its fate could easily be foretold. For the bishop did not delude himself with the belief or hope that the class of people who had recently become attracted and attached to the rector, together with his old friends who still stood by him, would either be able or willing to support and maintain the customary activities of the church. Indeed, his wide experience and his worldly wisdom led him to a far different conclusion. So what was he to do? He decided that for the present he would do nothing. He would delay his decision in the hope—a forlorn hope, indeed—that the parties themselves would settle their controversy, or that, before the day of necessary action should come, a kind Providence would in some way relieve him of his embarrassment.
