he making of more money. It does not need
to be done. The community could dispense with it; in the sight of God
it is a wicked use of human flesh and blood and souls; and the starved
spiritual natures of these men will come up at the Judgment Day before
the men who had it in their power to say, "Not a wheel shall turn on
these tracks on Sunday, even if we don't make a little more money."
Money or souls! Which is worth more in the thought of the railroad
corporation? Let the facts make answer.

Mr. Hardy did not know just how long he kneeled there in that bare
room. At last he arose wearily and came out; his prayer had not
refreshed him. The surgeon glanced at him inquisitively, but asked no
questions. The sick woman was in a state of semi-unconsciousness. Mr.
Hardy's cook, her sister, sat listlessly and worn out by the side of
the lounge. The surgeon rapidly gave directions for the use of some
medicine, and prepared to go. Some of the neighbours called, and the
surgeon let two of the women come in. Just as the two men were going
out together--Mr. Hardy still absorbed in his great desire to do
something of importance for the mother and her children--his minister,
Mr. Jones, appeared.

He looked surprised at seeing Mr. Hardy, inquired the news of the
doctor, and at once asked if he could see the poor widow. The doctor
thought it would do no harm. Mr. Jones whispered to Mr. Hardy:

"She was a faithful member of our church, you know."

Mr. Hardy did not know it, to his shame he confessed. This sister of
his in Christ had been a member of the same church, and he had not even
known it. If she had happened to sit on the same side of the building
where he sat, he would probably have wondered who that plain-looking
person was, dressed so poorly. But she had always sat back on the
other side, being one of a few poor women who had been attracted into
the church and been comforted by Mr. Jones' simple piety and prayers.

The minister kneeled down and said a gentle word to the woman. Then as
if in reply to a low-voiced request he began a prayer of remarkable
beauty and comfort. Mr. Hardy wondered, as he listened, that he could
ever have thought this man dull in the pulpit. He sat down and sobbed
as the prayer went on, and took to himself the consolation of that
heavenly petition. When Mr. Jones rose, Mr. Hardy still sat with his
hands over his face. The surgeon was called out by someone. Then the
minister,