e then with great force. I still feel it to-day. It was the
passage which says, 'When the human race rebelled against God, the lower
nature of man as a consequence rebelled against the higher nature.'"

I asked him then if the years had strengthened or weakened his Christian
faith. We were racing up hill. He stopped suddenly on the hillside and
regarded me with a searching earnestness, a solemnity that made me
quake. Then he spoke slowly, more seriously:

"Dr. Talmage, my only hope for the world is in the bringing of the human
mind into contact with divine revelation. Nearly all the men at the top
in our country are believers in the Christian religion. The four leading
physicians of England are devout Christian men. I, myself, have been in
the Cabinet forty-seven years, and during all that time I have been
associated with sixty of the chief intellects of the century. I can
think of but five of those sixty who did not profess the Christian
religion, but those five men respected it. We may talk about questions
of the day here and there, but there is only one question, and that is
how to apply the Gospel to all circumstances and conditions. It can and
will correct all that is wrong. Have you, in America, any of the
terrible agnosticism that we have in Europe? I am glad none of my
children are afflicted with it."

I asked him if he did not believe that many people had no religion in
their heads, but a good religion in their hearts.

"I have no doubt of it, and I can give you an illustration," he said.

"Yesterday, Lord Napier was buried in St. Paul's Cathedral. After the
war in Africa Lord Napier was here for a few days, at the invitation of
Mrs. Gladstone and myself, and we walked as we are walking now. He told
me this story. I cannot remember his exact words. He said that just when
the troops were about to leave Africa there was a soldier with a broken
leg. He was too sick to take along, but to leave him behind seemed
barbaric. Lord Napier ordered him to be carried, but he soon became too
ill to go any further. Lord Napier went to a native woman well known in
that country for her kindness, and asked her to take care of the
soldier. To ensure his care she was offered a good sum of money. I
remember her reply as Lord Napier repeated it to me. 'No, I will not
take care of this wounded soldier for the money you offer me,' she said;
'I have no need of the money. My father and mother have a comfortable
tent, and I have a go