n slavery, in sodden brains, and
shaking nerves. You don't hate your father; the hate is against your
thought of him; and that thought is all wrong. We're going to correct
it."

"I used to drink--some, when I lived at home," the boy went on, still
dwelling on the thoughts that held him chained. "But he could have
saved me. And then I fell in love--I thought it was love, but it
wasn't. The woman was--she was years older than I. When she left the
city, I followed her. And when I found out what she was, and came back
home, my father threw me out--cut me off--God!"

"Never mind, Sidney," the girl whispered. "It isn't true anyway." But
she realized that the boy must voice the thoughts that were tearing
his very soul, and she suffered him, for it uncovered to her the
hidden sources of his awful malady.

"And then I drank, drank, drank!" he moaned. "And I lay in the
gutters, and in brothels, and--then, one day, Carlson told me to come
and work for him. He thought I could straighten up. And so I went to a
doctor, and he--God curse him!--he injected morphine into my arm to
sober me. And that taught me that I could drink all I wanted to, and
sober up on morphine. But then I learned--I found--"

He stopped, and began to fumble in his pockets. His eyes became wilder
as he searched.

"Where is it?" he cried, turning fiercely upon the girl. "Did you take
it from me? Give it to me--_quick_!" He caught her wrist and twisted
it painfully. His voice became a scream.

_"God is everywhere!"_ flashed through the girl's thought. "I am not
afraid to see evil seem to have power!" Then aloud: "I know what you
are searching for, Sidney. Yes, I have it. Listen, and I will give it
to you. You are searching for help. No, it isn't in morphine tablets.
It is in love--right here--the Christ-principle, that is bigger far
than the demons that seem to tear you! I have _all_ power from God,
and you, evil, _can not touch me_!"

The boy started at the ringing voice, and loosened his grasp. Then he
sank back into his chair, shaking as with palsy.

"Sidney!" she cried, seizing his hand. "Rise, and stand with me! We
don't have to struggle--we don't have to fight--we only have to
_know_. All that you are wrestling with is the world-wide belief that
there is a power apart from God! _There is none!_ Any claim that there
is such a power is a lie! I have proved it! You and I will prove it
again! There is no power or intelligence in whiskey or morphine! I