At last he saw that he would gain nothing by prolonging the argument.

He rose, and with the same sweet frankness which characterized his opening of the subject, he said, "Brother, I wish to tell you that it is my intention to speak of this matter next Sunday, in the first of my talks on Christ and Modern Society.

I believe it is something he would talk about in public, and I will speak of it as I think he would." "You must do your duty, of course, Mr.Strong," replied Mr.Bentley, somewhat coldly; and Philip went out, feeling as if he had grappled with his first dragon in Milton, and found him to be a very ugly one and hard to kill.

What hurt him as much as the lack of spiritual fineness of apprehension of evil in his church-member, was the knowledge that, as Mr.Bentley so coarsely put it, his salary was largely paid out of the rentals of those vile abodes.

He grew sick at heart as he dwelt upon the disagreeable fact; and as he came back to the parsonage and went up to his cosey study, he groaned to think that it was possible through the price that men paid for souls.
"And this, because society is as it is!" he exclaimed, as he buried his face in his hands and leaned his elbows on his desk, while his cheeks flushed and his heart quivered at the thought of the filth and vileness the money had seen and heard which paid for the very desk at which he wrote his sermons.
But Philip Strong was not one to give way at the first feeling of seeming defeat.