and the humdrum healthy-minded herd always call that man a fool and a
weakling or else a fanatic and a madman, in whom the grand errors of
human nature are due to an effort--may I not say, a vain effort?--to live
up to a great ideal." There were nervous twitchings over the muscles of
John's face. "Come, now, come, for the sake of peace and tranquillity,
lest there should be disorder and even death, let this matter rest.
Think, my boy, think, we are as much concerned for the world's welfare as
you can be, and we have higher claims and heavier responsibilities. I can
not raise a hand to help you, John. In the nature of things I can not
defend you. I sent for you because--because you are your mother's son.
Don't cast on me a heavier burden than I can bear. Save yourself and
spare me."

"What do you wish me to do, uncle?"

"Leave London immediately and stay away until this tumult has settled
down."

"Ah, that is impossible, sir."

"Impossible?"

"Quite impossible, and though I did not make these predictions about the
destruction of London, yet I believe we are on the eve of a great
change."

"You do?"

"Yes, and if you had not sent for me I should have called on you, to ask
you to set aside a day for public prayer that God may in his mercy avert
the calamity that is coming or direct it to the salvation of his
servants. The morality of the nation is on the decline, uncle, and when
morality is lacking the end is not far off. England is given up to
idleness, pomp, dissolute practices, and pleasure--pleasure, always
pleasure. The vice of intemperance, the mania for gambling, these are the
vultures that are consuming the vitals of our people. Look at the luxury
of the country--a ludicrous travesty of national greatness! Look at the
tastes and habits of our age--the deadliest enemies of true religion! And
then look at the price we are paying in what the devil calls 'the
priestesses of society' for the tranquillity of the demon of lust!"

"But my boy, my dear boy----"

"Oh, yes, uncle, yes, I know, I know, many humanitarian schemes are
afloat and we think we are not indifferent to the condition of the poor.
But contrast the toiling women of East London with the idlers of Hyde
Park in a London season. Other nations have professed well with their
lips while their hearts have been set on wealth and pleasure. And they
have fallen! Yes, sir, in ancient Asia as well as in modern Europe they
have always fallen. And unless w