epresent any real sacrifice because they did not miss
it. They gave what was the easiest to give, what hurt them the
least. Where did the sacrifice come in? Was this following Jesus?
Was this going with Him all the way? He had been to members of his
own aristocratic, splendidly wealthy congregations, and was appalled
to find how few men and women of that luxurious class in the
churches would really suffer any genuine inconvenience for the sake
of suffering humanity. Is charity the giving of worn-out garments?
Is it a ten-dollar bill given to a paid visitor or secretary of some
benevolent organization in the church? Shall the man never go and
give his gift himself? Shall the woman never deny herself her
reception or her party or her musicale, and go and actually touch,
herself, the foul, sinful sore of diseased humanity as it festers in
the great metropolis? Shall charity be conveniently and easily done
through some organization? Is it possible to organize the affections
so that love shall work disagreeable things by proxy?

All this the Bishop asked as he plunged deeper into the sin and
sorrow of that bitter winter. He was bearing his cross with joy. But
he burned and fought within over the shifting of personal love by
the many upon the hearts of the few. And still, silently,
powerfully, resistlessly, the Holy Spirit was moving through the
churches, even the aristocratic, wealthy, ease-loving members who
shunned the terrors of the social problem as they would shun a
contagious disease.

Chapter Twenty-nine

THE breakfast hour at the settlement was the one hour in the day
when the whole family found a little breathing space to fellowship
together. It was an hour of relaxation. There was a great deal of
good-natured repartee and much real wit and enjoyable fun at this
hour. The Bishop told his best stories. Dr. Bruce was at his best in
anecdote. This company of disciples was healthily humorous in spite
of the atmosphere of sorrow that constantly surrounded them. In
fact, the Bishop often said the faculty of humor was as God-given as
any other and in his own case it was the only safety valve he had
for the tremendous pressure put upon him.

This particular morning he was reading extracts from a morning paper
for the benefit of the others. Suddenly he paused and his face
instantly grew stern and sad. The rest looked up and a hush fell
over the table.

"Shot and killed while taking a lump of coal from a car! H