ent. But I have heard
the howling wane into the distance and get lost in the outer darkness
when the old Church roused herself and went forth to face the snarling
teeth--the eager talons. There is life in this mighty old mother of ours
still. New life comes to her, not as it did to the fabled hero of old,
by contact with the earth, but by communing with heaven. The bark of
the wolf, the snarl of the hyena, may be heard in the debate which
the Government have encouraged in the House of Commons on the Church.
Philistia rejoices. Let the movers in this obscene tumult look to
themselves. Have they the confidence of the people even as the Church
has that confidence? Let them put it to the test. I tell you, George
Holland, the desert and the ditch, whose vomit those men are who now
move against us in Parliament, shall receive them once more before many
months have passed. The Church on whom they hoped to prey shall witness
their dispersal, never again to return. I know the signs. I know what
the present silence throughout the country means. The champion of God
and the Church has drawn his breath for the conflict. His teeth are
set--his weapon is in his hand--you will see the result within a year.
We shall have a government in power, a government whose power will not
be dependent on the faddists and the self-seekers--the ignorant, the
blatant bellowers of pitiful platitudes, the platform loafers who call
themselves labor-leaders, but whom the real laborers repudiate. Mark my
words, their doom is sealed; back to the desert and the ditch! My dear
Holland, pardon this digression. I feel that I need say nothing more to
you than I have already said. The surprise system of therapeutics is not
suited to the existing ailments of the Church. Caution is what is needed
if you would not defeat your own worthy object, which, I know, is to
give fresh vitality to the Church."

"That is certainly my object, my lord; only let me say that--"

"My dear Holland, I will not let you say anything. I asked you to come
here this morning in order that you might hear me. That is all that is
necessary for the present. Perhaps, upon some future occasion, I may
have the privilege of hearing you in a discourse of some greater length
than that which I have just inflicted upon you. I have given you my
candid opinion of your writings, and you know that is the opinion of a
man who has but one object in life--you know that it is the opinion of
an old man who ha