Hell itself was spoken of as She-ol, and it appeared that it was not a place of burning, but rather of what one might describe as moral torment.

This settled She-ol once and for all: nobody minds moral torment.

In short, there was nothing in the theological system of Mr.Furlong that need have occasioned in any of his congregation a moment's discomfort.
There could be no greater contrast with Mr.Fareforth Furlong than the minister of St.Osoph's, the Rev.Dr.McTeague, who was also honorary professor of philosophy at the university.

The one was young, the other was old; the one could dance the other could not; the one moved about at church picnics and lawn teas among a bevy of disciples in pink and blue sashes; the other moped around under the trees of the university campus with blinking eyes that saw nothing and an abstracted mind that had spent fifty years in trying to reconcile Hegel with St.Paul, and was still busy with it.

Mr.Furlong went forward with the times; Dr.
McTeague slid quietly backwards with the centuries.
Dr.McTeague was a failure, and all his congregation knew it.