in this world, as Jesus told his
followers they should do. If you can show forth the omnipotence of God
by healing the sick and raising the dead, I could accept that as proof
of your understanding of the teachings of Jesus--and what you _really_
understand you can demonstrate and teach to others. Theological
questions used to bother me, but they do so no longer. Holy oil, holy
water, blessed candles, incense, images and display do not interest me
as they did when a child, nor do they any longer seem part of an
intelligent worship of God. But"--his voice rising in animation--"to
touch the blind man's eyes and see them open; to bid the leper be
clean, and see his skin flush with health--ah! that is to worship God
in spirit and in truth--that is to prove that you understand what
Jesus taught and are obeying, not part, but _all_ of his commands. I
am not apostate"--he concluded sadly--"I never did fully believe that
the religion of Jesus is the religion which the Church to-day preaches
and pretends to practice. I do not believe in her heaven, her
purgatory or her hell, nor do I believe that her Masses move God to
release souls from torment. I do not believe in her powers to pardon
and curse. I do not believe in her claims of infallibility. But--"

He hesitated a moment, as if not quite sure of his ground. Then his
face glowed with sudden eagerness, and he cried, "My Father, the
Church needs the light--do you not see it?--do you not, my uncle?"
turning appealingly to the hard-faced secretary. "Can we not work to
help her, and through her reach the world? Should not the Church
rightly be the greatest instrument for good? But how can she teach the
truth when she herself is so filled with error? How can she preach the
gospel when she knows not what the gospel is? But Jesus said that if
we obeyed him we should know of the doctrine, should know the true
meaning of the gospel. But we must first obey. We must not only
preach, but we must become spiritually minded enough to heal the
sick--"

"_Dios nos guarde!_" interrupted the Archbishop, attempting to rise,
but prevented by his secretary, who laid a restraining hand on his
arm. The latter then turned to the overwrought boy.

"My dear Jose," he said, smiling patronizingly upon the youth,
although his cold eyes glittered like bits of polished steel, "His
Eminence forgives your hasty words, for he recognizes your earnestness,
and, moreover, is aware how deeply your heart is lacer