ch made his son a drunkard. But how many are there
to-day in this country like that poor father and mother? They gave
their all: this is their reward.

[1] Lieut.-Colonel Woodhead, M.D., LL.D, _The Drink Problem_, p. 79.

[2] Lieut.-Colonel Woodhead, M.D., LL.D., _The Drink Problem_, p. 81.

[3] A correspondent in _The Times_, April 22, 1916.

[4] _Ibid._

{149}

CHAPTER VII

THE SLUM IN THE MAN

The misery which the slow evolution of urban and industrial
civilisation has wrought in the crowded areas of our cities is manifest
to the least observant eye. The pitiful condition of the man in the
slum makes its clamorous appeal to the conscience of the race. But
there is a condition even more pitiful. It is that of many of the
dwellers in the spacious squares and terraces where the rich and the
leisured are segregated. They are far removed from the slum where the
miserable are massed; but they have created a slum in their own souls.
And of the two, the condition of him whose soul is a slum is truly the
more grievous.

{150}

I

They have everything that life can desire of material good. These
houses stretching for miles in their regular uniformity are replete
with appliances of luxury and comfort such as a Roman emperor might
have sighed for in vain; every desire of their heart they have the
power and the will to gratify;--and yet life is dreary. The people
that ought to be supremely happy are on the whole miserable. They have
reduced life to a series of sensations. But the dread spectre of
satiety dogs the footsteps of the devotees of sense. If they were mere
animals they would be perfectly happy. Their misery is that they are
endowed with souls. And the starved soul will not let them rest.

What has pauperised the rich is this--they have lost the sense of God.
Their fathers were saved from the tyranny of their senses by the fact
that they kept open the window towards the {151} Infinite. But the
growth of knowledge and the triumphs of science gradually shut that
window, so that now scarce a glow of light penetrates to the dusty and
dark recesses of the soul. The soul no longer thrills with the Divine;
all the thrill they can know is that of gratifying the body. And that
way leads only to the self-loathing of repletion. To escape from
themselves they rush in clouds of dust along the roads, demanding
'speed in the face of the Lord.' But all in vain is a sated body
hurled from Lo