ormal gathering of the Committee
of one of the Great Societies, "is this, that whether we look at the
gaps in our own committee, or of any other committee, or of any
church--as far as I have been able to gather, the story is the same,
the missing people are in almost every case those whom, when they were
with us, were least understood by us."

Some such thought had been filling the mind of Ralph Bastin, as he sat
in his Editor's chair in the office of the "Courier." Allied to this
thought there came another--an almost necessary corollary of the
first--namely the new atmosphere of evil, of lawlessness, of wantonness
that pervaded the city.

With a jerk, his mind darted backward over the years to that remarkable
sermon on Judas and the Antichrist.

"It is true, too true," he murmured, "'the mystery of iniquity' that
has long been working undermining the foundations of all true social
and religious safety and solidity, is now to be openly manifested and
perfected. The real Christians, the Church of God, which is the Bride
of Christ, has been silently, secretly caught up to her Lord in the
air. She was 'the salt of the earth,' she kept it from the open
putrefaction that has already, now, begun to work. Then, too, that
wondrous, silent, but mighty influence of restraint upon evil.--The
Holy Spirit, Himself, has left the earth, and now, what? All restraint
gone, the world everywhere open to believe the Antichrist lie, the
delusion. The whole tendency of the teaching, from a myriad pulpits,
during the last few years, has been to prepare the world to receive the
Devil's lie."

For a moment or two he sat in deep thought. Suddenly glancing at the
clock, he murmured:

"I wonder what the other papers are saying this evening."

He rang up his messenger boy on his office phone. The lad came
promptly. Bastin handed him half-a-crown, saying:

"Get me a copy of the last edition of all the chief evening papers,
Charley, and be smart about it, and perhaps you will keep the change
for your smartness."

In six minutes the lad was back with a sheaf of papers. Bastin just
glanced at them separately, noting the several times of their issue,
then with a "Good boy, Charley! Keep the change," he unfolded one of
the papers.

The boy stood hesitatingly, a moment, then said:

"Beg yer pardin', Mr. Bastin, sir, but wot's yer fink as people's
sayin' 'bout the 'Translation o' the Saints,' as it's called?"

"I can't say, I am s