d to him, in an expression of despair. Mr. Hardy gazed steadily
upon it for half a minute, then replacing the sheet he kneeled down by
the side of the rude bed and prayed God for mercy. "O Lord," he
groaned in his remorse, "lay not the death of this man to my charge!"
Yet, even as he prayed, he could not drive back the thought which
chased across the prayer, "I am this man's murderer. I issued the
order compelling the Sunday work. I refused a week ago to inspect the
retorts, which were declared unsafe, on the ground that it was not my
business. I compelled this man to work under the fear of losing his
place if he refused to work. I compelled him to work on the one day in
which God has commanded all men to rest. I, a Christian by profession,
a member of the church, a man of means--I put this man in deadly peril
upon a Sunday in order that more money might be made and more human
selfishness might be gratified. I did it. And this man once saved my
life. I am his murderer, and no murderer shall inherit the kingdom of
God."

So the wretched man prayed there by the side of that cold body. Yet
the world to-day goes on with men in high places who have it in their
power to change the conditions that exact Sunday labour from thousands
of weary men and drive the commerce of the world across the continent
at the cost of that priceless thing, the soul of man, in order that the
owners of railroad stock and the men who get their salaried living from
it may have more money. What! is it not true that every Sunday in this
land of Christian homes and hearts many and many a well-fed, sleek,
self-satisfied, well-dressed man, with a high salary and
well-established social position, with a luxurious home and money in
the bank, goes to church and sits down in a softly cushioned pew to
listen to the preaching of the Gospel, while within hearing distance of
the services an express train or a freight thunders by upon the road
which declares the dividends that make that man's wealth possible? On
those trains are groups of coal-begrimed human beings who never go
inside a church, who never speak the name of God or Christ except in an
oath, who lead lives that are as destitute of spiritual nourishment as
a desert of sand and rocks, and who are compelled to labour contrary to
God's everlasting law of rest, in order that man may have more to feed
his body and indulge his passions! Do not tell us it is necessary
labour. It is labour for t