brother and my friend.' I say to you frankly that I shall not be satisfied with my labors here until the workingman and the toiling-woman sit, side by side, in every pew, with the cultured and the rich; until they read together from the same prayer-book, recite together the same creed, kneel by each other at the same chancel-rail, and partake together of the Holy Communion in loving memory of Him who died for all men, 'the carpenter, the son of Mary.'"
Whether or not the humble folk who crowded the rear pews enjoyed the rest of the beautiful and solemn service, they were at least pleased with the sermon. On many a homely and rugged face, as these people passed out into the street, there was a smile of approval, and on many a lip that had never moved in prayer there was a comment of rejoicing that at least one preacher in the city understood the hearts of the poor and was not afraid to tell the rich, to their faces, what they ought to do.
But the regular, influential parishioners of Christ Church, those to whom the appeal had been made, were, apparently, not so well pleased with the sermon. It was not noticed that any among them made immediate response by mingling in friendly intercourse with the humble strangers who had come to their house of worship.
For the most part they waited in their pews until the unfamiliar faces had vanished beyond the outer doors. Then, by ones and twos and in little groups they moved slowly down the aisles. The stamp of unimpeachable respectability was on them all. They were well-mannered and well-dressed.
The majority of the men wore black coats and gray trousers and carried silk hats and canes in their hands, while the women were handsomely and appropriately gowned. The principal topic of conversation among them was, of course, the rector's sermon; and, regrettable as it may seem, there were few who were heard
