property was his availably, the minister betook himself
to the curate.

"Now," he said--he too had the gift of going pretty straight, though not
quite so straight as the curate--"Now, Mr. Wingfold, tell me plainly
what you think the first thing I ought to do with this money toward
making it a true gift of God. I mean, what can I do with it for somebody
else--some person or persons to whom money in my hands, not in theirs,
may become a small saviour?"

"You want, in respect of your money," rejoined the curate, "to be in the
world as Christ was in the world, setting right what is wrong in ways
possible to you, and not counteracting His? You want to do the gospel as
well as preach it?"

"That is what I mean--or rather what I wish to mean. You have said
it.--What do you count the first thing I should try to set right?"

"I should say _injustice_. My very soul revolts against the talk about
kindness to the poor, when such a great part of their misery comes from
the injustice and greed of the rich."

"I well understand," returned Mr. Drake, "that a man's first business is
to be just to his neighbor, but I do not so clearly see when he is to
interfere to make others just. Our Lord would not settle the division of
the inheritance between the two brothers."

"No, but he gave them a lesson concerning avarice, and left that to
work. I don't suppose any body is unjust for love of injustice. I don't
understand the pure devilish very well--though I have glimpses into it.
Your way must be different from our Lord's in form, that it may be the
same in spirit: you have to work with money; His father had given Him
none. In His mission He was not to use all means--only the best. But
even He did not attack individuals to _make_ them do right; and if you
employ your money in doing justice to the oppressed and afflicted, to
those shorn of the commonest rights of humanity, it will be the most
powerful influence of all to wake the sleeping justice in the dull
hearts of other men. It is the business of any body who can, to set
right what any body has set wrong. I will give you a special instance,
which has been in my mind all the time. Last spring--and it was the same
the spring before, my first in Glaston--the floods brought misery upon
every family in what they call the Pottery here. How some of them get
through any wet season I can not think; but Faber will tell you what a
multitude of sore throats, cases of croup, scarlet-fever, and