power which he exerted in behalf of
suffering humanity, he left with the world when he went away. But
where is it now?

"Still here," sighed the sorrowing priest, "still here--lo, always
here--but we know it not. Sunken in materiality, and enslaved to the
false testimony of the physical senses, we lack the spirituality that
alone would enable us to grasp and use that Christ-power, which is the
resurrection and the life."

"Padre," said Rosendo, when they turned back toward the hill,
"Hernandez is now with the angels. You gave him the sacrament, did you
not?"

"Yes, Rosendo."

"_Bien_, then you remitted his sins, and he is doubtless in paradise.
But," he mused, "it may be that he had first to pass through
purgatory. _Caramba!_ I like not the thought of those hot fires!"

"Rosendo!" exclaimed Jose in impatience. "Your mental wanderings at
times are puerile! You talk like the veriest child! Do not be
deceived, Hernandez is still the same man, even though he has left his
earthly body behind. Do not think he has been lifted at once into
eternal bliss. The Church has taught such rubbish for ages, and has
based its pernicious teachings upon the grossly misunderstood words of
Jesus. The Church is a failure--a dead, dead failure, in every sense
of the word! And that man lying there in his grave is a ghastly proof
of it!"

Rosendo looked wonderingly at the excited priest, whose bitter words
rang out so harshly on the still night air.

"The Church has failed utterly to preserve the simple gospel of the
Christ! It has basely, wantonly betrayed its traditional trust! It has
fought and slain and burned for centuries over trivial, vulnerable
non-essentials, and thrown its greatest pearls to the swine! It no
longer prophesies; it carps and reviles! It no longer heals the sick;
but it conducts a purgatorial lottery at so much a head! It has become
a jumble of idle words, a mumbling of silly formulae, a category of
stupid, insensate ceremonies! Its children are taught to derive their
faith from such legends as that of the holy Saint Francis, who, to
convince a heretic, showed the _hostia_ to an ass, which on beholding
the sacred dough immediately kneeled! Good God!"

"_Ca-ram-ba!_ But you speak hard words, Padre!" muttered Rosendo,
vague speculations flitting through his brain as to the priest's
mental state.

"God!" continued Jose heatedly, "the Church has fought truth
desperately ever since the Master's day! It has fawned