ianity?"

"My dear Major! your ideas in some respects are extraordinarily
primitive. The less anybody likes Christianity for himself, the more
sure he is that it's an excellent religion for other people. That's
the reason you find statesmen all over the world supporting whatever
Church is uppermost at the moment in the particular country they happen
to be dealing with. Look at the history of Ireland, for instance. For
a century and a half British statesmen steadily fatted up our church.
Now they are dropping any plums that they can spare--Congested
Districts Boards and such things--into the mouths of the Roman Catholic
bishops. Do you suppose they care a pin for either? Not they. All
they want is to strengthen up some form of religion which will keep the
people quiet. They think that Christianity is an excellent thing for
everybody they have to govern, though they take jolly good care not to
act on it themselves. In just the same way you'll see that Miss King
will be in church to-day. As a follower of Nietzsche she doesn't
herself accept the ethics of Christianity, but she'll consider it her
duty to encourage everybody else to accept them, and the only practical
way she has of doing that is to attend church regularly."

"You're preaching to-day, aren't you, J. J.?"

"Yes, I am. I promised the poor old rector that I would do all I could
to help him while I'm here. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering," said the Major, "if you were going to give us that
doctrine out of the pulpit."

"Well, I'm not. You ought to know, Major, that my sermons are always
strictly practical, and deal entirely with matters of pressing local
importance: the ordinary difficulties and dangers of the people I'm
preaching to. There won't be any statesmen in church to-day, so
there'd be no point in my explaining that theory. If I'm ever asked to
preach before the House of Commons I shall give it to them."

This account of Meldon's theory of sermons made the Major a little
nervous. He asked his next question anxiously.

"Are you going to be personal, J. J.? I hope not."

"I can't preach the whole sermon to you beforehand, Major; but I don't
mind telling you that it will deal with the vice of squabbling which I
find rampant in small communities. I shan't, of course, mention you
and Simpkins; or, for the matter of that, Doyle and O'Donoghue, though
it wouldn't matter much if I did mention them. Being Roman Catholics,
they won't