. We propose--"

"Stop!" The young man's voice broke out like the report of a rifle.
"Stop, I say, or, as God sees me, here in His temple, at His very altar,
I will do you violence. I speak to you not as your pastor, but as a
man: not as an accused man, for you dare not accuse me."

The church was in a commotion. In all its long history, such a scene had
never before been enacted within the sacred walls. The men sat
speechless; the women shrank far down into their seats. Only those two
men, the young and the old, stood glaring into each other's faces.

"Remember, brethren," said someone, recovering himself, "that this is
the house of God, and that you are preachers of the gospel."

"I do remember that it is God's house, and for that reason I will not
let it be disgraced by scandal that would stain the lowest abode of
vice. I do remember that I am a preacher, and for that reason I will not
see the gospel made vindictive,--a scourge to whip down a poor girl, who
may have sinned,--I know not,--but who, if she did, has an advocate with
God. Once before in this place have I told you my opinion of your
charity and your love. Once before have I branded you as mockeries of
the idea of Christianity. Now I say to you, you are hypocrites. You are
like carrion birds who soar high up in the ether for a while and then
swoop down to revel in filth and rottenness. The stench of death is
sweet to you. Putridity is dear to you. As for you who have done this
work, you need pity. Your own soul must be reeking with secret foulness
to be so basely suspicious. Your own eyes must have cast unholy glances
to so soon accuse the eyes of others. As for the thing which you, mine
enemy, have intimated here to-night, as pastor of this church I scorn to
make defence. But as a man I say, give such words as those breath again,
and I will forget your age and only remember your infamy. I see the
heads of some about me here wagging, some that knew my father. I hear
their muffled whispers, and I know what they are saying. I know what is
in their hearts. You are saying that it is the old Tom Brent in me
showing itself at last. Yes, it has smouldered in me long, and I am
glad. I think better of that spirit because it was waked into life to
resent meanness. I would rather be the most roistering drunkard that
ever reeled down these streets than call myself a Christian and carouse
over the dead characters of my fellows.

"To-night I feel for the first time t