for want of a better word."

"It is a very short story," said Bartram, now entirely calm, as he
leaned against his desk and folded his arms. "Like every other man with
any brains, I've always been interested in religion, intellectually,
and have had to believe that if it was right, as I heard it talked, it
had sometimes got away from its Founder in a manner for which there
seemed to be no excuse. Everything was being taught by the servants,
nothing by the Master. When I want to know your wishes, deacon, about
any matter in which we are mutually interested, I do not go to your
back door and inquire of your servants: I go to you, direct. But when
people--you among the number--have talked to me about religion, they've
always talked Peter and Paul and James and John,--never Jesus."

"The Apostle Paul--" began the deacon, but the lawyer snatched the
words from his lips, and continued:

"The Apostle Paul was the ablest lawyer that ever lived. I've studied
him a good deal, in past days, for style."

"Awful!" groaned the deacon.

"Not in the least," said the lawyer, with fine earnestness. "He was
just the man for his place and his time; 'twas his business to explain
the new order of things to the hard-headed Jews, of whom he had been
so notable a representative, that to convert him it was necessary that
he should be knocked senseless and remain so for the space of three
days: you remember the circumstance? He was just the man, too, to
explain the new religion to the heathens and pagans of his day, for
those Greeks and Romans were a brainy lot of people. But why should he
have been quoted to me, or any other man in the community? We don't
have to be convinced that Jesus lived: we believe it already. The
belief has been born in us; it has run through our blood for hundreds
of years. Do you know what I've honestly believed for years about a lot
of religious men in this town, you among the number? I've believed that
Jesus was so good that you've all been making hypocritical excuses,
through your theology, to get away from this!"

"Get away from my Saviour!" gasped the deacon.

"Oh, no; you wanted enough of Him to be saved by,--enough to die by;
but when it comes to living by him--well, you know perfectly well that
you don't."

"Awful!" again groaned the deacon.

"When I heard of that wretched convict taking his Saviour as an
exemplar of daily life and conduct, it seemed ridiculous. If better men
couldn't do it, how coul