delivery. Only this was with a different attitude. And all
through his impassioned appeal this morning, there was a note of
sadness and rebuke and stern condemnation that made many of the
members pale with self-accusation or with inward anger.

For Raymond had awakened that morning to the fact that the city had
gone for license after all. The rumor at the Rectangle that the
second and third wards had gone no-license proved to be false. It
was true that the victory was won by a very meager majority. But the
result was the same as if it had been overwhelming. Raymond had
voted to continue for another year the saloon. The Christians of
Raymond stood condemned by the result. More than a hundred
professing Christian disciples had failed to go to the polls, and
many more than that number had voted with the whiskey men. If all
the church members of Raymond had voted against the saloon, it would
today be outlawed instead of crowned king of the municipality. For
that had been the fact in Raymond for years. The saloon ruled. No
one denied that. What would Jesus do? And this woman who had been
brutally struck down by the very hand that had assisted so eagerly
to work her earthly ruin what of her? Was it anything more than the
logical sequence of the whole horrible system of license, that for
another year the very saloon that received her so often and
compassed her degradation, from whose very spot the weapon had been
hurled that struck her dead, would, by the law which the Christian
people of Raymond voted to support, perhaps open its doors tomorrow
and damn a hundred Loreens before the year had drawn to its bloody
close?

All this, with a voice that rang and trembled and broke in sobs of
anguish for the result, did Henry Maxwell pour out upon his people
that Sunday morning. And men and women wept as he spoke. President
Marsh sat there, his usual erect, handsome, firm, bright
self-confident bearing all gone; his head bowed upon his breast, the
great tears rolling down his cheeks, unmindful of the fact that
never before had he shown outward emotion in a public service.
Edward Norman near by sat with his clear-cut, keen face erect, but
his lip trembled and he clutched the end of the pew with a feeling
of emotion that struck deep into his knowledge of the truth as
Maxwell spoke it. No man had given or suffered more to influence
public opinion that week than Norman. The thought that the Christian
conscience had been aroused too la