ed the magic of the Pied Piper.

Hardly any of those who came to him, adults or children, while almost
all of the artisan class, were of the poorest class. He knew it, and had
laid his plans for such a result. Such work as he had at heart has no
chance with the lowest in the social scale, in its beginnings. It must
have something to work upon, and must penetrate downwards. He only can
receive who already hath--there is no profounder axiom.

And meanwhile the months passed on, and he was still brooding, still
waiting. At last the spark fell.

There, in the next street but one to Elgood Street, rose the famous
Workmen's Club of North R----. It had been started by a former Liberal
clergyman of the parish, whose main object, however, had been to train
the workmen to manage it for themselves. His training had been, in fact,
too successful. Not only was it now wholly managed by artisans, but it
had come to be a centre of active, nay, brutal, opposition to the Church
and faith which had originally fostered it. In organic connection with
it was a large debating hall, in which the most notorious secularist
lecturers held forth every Sunday evening; and next door to it, under
its shadow and patronage, was a little dingy shop filled to overflowing
with the coarsest free-thinking publications, Colonel Ingersoll's books
occupying the place of honour in the window and the _Freethinker_
placard flaunting at the door. Inside there was still more highly
seasoned literature even than the _Freethinker_ to be had. There was in
particular a small halfpenny paper which was understood to be in some
sense the special organ of the North R---- Club; which was at any rate
published close by, and edited by one of the workmen founders of the
club. This unsavoury sheet began to be more and more defiantly
advertised through the parish as Lent drew on towards Passion week, and
the exertions of St. Wilfrid's and of the other churches, which were
being spurred on by the Ritualists' success, became more apparent. Soon
it seemed to Robert that every bit of hoarding and every waste wall was
filled with the announcement:--

'Read _Faith and Fools_. Enormous success. Our _Comic Life of Christ_
now nearly completed. Quite the best thing of its kind going. Woodcut
this week--Transfiguration.'

His heart grew fierce within him. One night in Passion week he left the
night-school about ten o'clock. His way led him past the club, which was
brilliantly lit up,