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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 In His Steps, M i He seized Burns and dragged him back. In His Steps.] U'il^ >-* -« V In His Steps '' What Woi'ld Ji:sl's Do ?" HV Cliarlcs M. Sheldon, Al'THOU iih • 1HK CKCCIFIXION oK PlIlLI.ir STRi)N(;, " HIS HK;)TIir;K S KKEI'HK," ETC Hritish-Anierican Hook c^ Tract vSocicty ll.'>. GRANVILLE STRKliT, HALU AX, N.S. "-TV. U'o.^^ ■ 28o9 S6fJIb 273l;0ii I I ^1 PREFACE. TiiK scnnoii story, In His Sthps, or, "What Would Jesus Do? "was fust writtcu in the winter of 1896, and read by the author, a chapter at a time, to his Sunday even- in}^ coiit;re^ation in the Central Congregational Church, Topei:a, Kansas. It was then printed as a serial in The Aiii'iincc (Chicago), and its reception by the readers of that pajicr was such that the publishers of The Advance made arrangements for its appearance in book form. It was their desire, in which the author heartily joined, that the story might reach as many readers as possible, hence succeeding editions of paper-covered vohmies at a ])rice within the reach of nearly all readers. The story has been warmly and thoughtfully welcomed by endeavour societies, temperance organisations, and Y.M.C.A.'s. It is the earnest prayer of the author that the book may go its way with a great blessing to the churches for the quickening of Christian discipleship, and the hastening of the Master's kingdom on earth. CHARLES M. SHELDON. A ToPEKA, I'Unsa^, November, 1897. i IN HIS STEPS. CHAPTER I. For licrcunto were yc called . because Christ also suffead for you, leavinjf you an exauiplc, that ye should follow His steps. IT was Friday morninj^, and the Rev. Henry Maxwell was tryir^^ to liiiish his Sunday morning sermon. He had been interrtipled several times, and was growing nervous as the moniing wore away, and the sermon grew very slowly towards a satisfactory finish . " Mary," he called to his wife, as he went upstairs after the last interruption, "if anyone comes after this, I wish you would say that I am very busy, and cannot come down unless it is something very important." " Yes, Henry. But I am going over to visit the Kindergarten, and you will have the house all to yourself." The minister went up into his study, and shut the door. In a few minutes he heard his wife go out. He settled himsdf at his desk with a sigh of relief, and began to wiite. His text was from i Peter ii. 21, " For hereunto were ye called : because Christ also IN HIS STEPS. suffered for you, leaving you an example, that ye should follow His steps." He had emphasised in the first part of his sermon the Atonement as a personal sacrifice, calling attention to the fact of Jesus' suffering in various ways, in His life as well as in His death. He had gone on to emphasise die Atonement from the side of example, giving illustrations from the life and teaching of Jesus, to show how faith in the Christ helped to save men, because of the pattern or character He displayed for their imitation. He was now on the third and last point, the necessity of following Jesus in His sacrifice and example. He had just put down, " 3. Steps : What are they ? " and was about to enumerate them in logical order, when the bell rang sharply. It was one of those clock-work bells, and always went off as a clock might go if it tried to strike twelve all at once. Henry Maxwell sat at his desk, and frowned a little. He made no movemeot to answer the bell. Very soon it rang again. Then he rose and walked over to one of his windows which commanded a view of the front door. A man was stimding on the steps. He was a young man, very shabbily dressed. " Looks like a tramp," said the minister. " I suppo e I'll have to go down, and " He did not finish the sentence, but he went do.vn- stairs, and opened the front door. There was a moment's pause as the two men stood "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 'oung )po e o.vn- jtood facing each other ; then the shabby-looking young man said : — . "I'm out of a job, sir, and thought maybe you might put me in the way of getting something." ^ " I don't know of anything. Jobs are scarce," rcphed tlie minister, beginning to shut tlie door slowly. " I didn't know but you might perhaps be able to give me a line to the city railway, or superintendent of tlie shops, or something," continued the young man, shifting his faded hat from one hand to the other nervously. " It would be of no use. You will have to excuse me. I am very busy this morning. I hope you will find something. Sorry I can.'t give you something to do here. But I keep only a horse and a cow, and do the work myself." The Rev. Henry Maxwell closed the door, and heard the man walk down the steps. As he went up into his study, he saw from his hall window tlut the man was going slowly down the street, still holding his hat between his hands. There was something in the Iigure so dejected, homeless, and forsaken, that the minister hesitated a moment as he stood looking at it. Then he turned to his desk, and with a sigh began the writing where he had left off. He had no more interruptions, and when his wife came in two hours later, the sermon was finished, the loose leaves gathered up and neatly tied together and laid on his Bible, all ready for the Sunday morning SwTvice. "A queer thing happened at the Kindergarten this 8 IN HIS STEPS. morning, Henry," said his wife while they were eating dinner. " You know I went over with Mrs. Brown to visit the school, and just after the games, while the children were at the tables, the door opened and a young man came in, holding a dirty hat in both hands. He sat down near the door, and never said a word. Only looked at the children. He was evidently a tramp, and Miss Wren and her assistant. Miss Kyle, were a little frightened at first, but he sat there very quietly, and after a few minutes he went out." " Perhaps he was tired, and wanted to rest some- where. The same man called here, I think. Did you say he looked like a tramp ? " '* Yes, very dusty, shabby, and generally tramp-like. Not more than thirty or thirty-three years old, I should say." "The same man," said the Rev. Henry Maxwell thoughtfully. " Did you finish your sermon, Henry ? " his wife asked after a pause. " Yes, all done. It has been a very bfisy week with me. The two sermons cost me a good deal of labour." "They will be appreciated by a large audience to- morrow, I hope," replied his wife smiling. " What are you going to preach about in the morning ?" " Following Christ. I take up the Atonement under the heads of Sacrifice and Example, and then show the steps needed to follow His sacrifice and example." ** I am sure it is a good sermon. I hope it won't rain Sunday. We have had so many rainy days lately I " rfe "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" ;ating vn to e the iiid a lands, word, itly a Kyle, e very some- id you ip-like. old, I [axwell is wife :k witli hour." ice to- " What under show iple." won't days " Yes, the audiences have been quite small for some time. People will not come out to church in a storm." The Rev. Henry Maxwell sighed as he said it. He was thinking of the careful, laborious efforts he had made in preparing sermons for large audiences that failed to appear. But Sunday morning dawned on the town of Ray- mond one of those perfect days that sometimes come after long periods of wind and rain and mud. The air was clear and bracing, the sky was clear from all threatening signs, and everyone in Henry Maxwell's parish prepared to go to church. When the service opened at eleven o'clock, the large building was lilled with an audience of the best dressed, most comfortable- looking people in Raymond. ^ The First Church of Raymond believed in having the best music that money could buy, and its quartette choir this morning was a great source of pleasure to the congregation. The anthem was inspiring. All the music was in keeping with the subject of the sermon. And the anthem was an elaborate adaptation to the most modern music of the hymn — Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee. ■m Just before the sermon, the soprano sang a solo, the well-known hymn — I Where He leads me I will follow, I'll go with Him, with Him all the way. Rachel Winslow looked very beautiful that morning t as she stood up behind the screen of carved oak which was significantly marked with the emblems of the cross 10 IN HIS STEPS. and the crown. Her voice was even more beautiful than her face, and that meant a great deal. There was a general rustle of expectation over the audience as she rose. Henry Maxwell settled himself contentedly behind the pulpit. Rr.chel Winslow's singing always helped him. He generally arranged for a song before the sermon. It made possible a certain inspiration of feeling that he knew made his delivery more impressive. People said to themselves they had never heard such singing even in the First Church. It is certain that if it had not been a church service, her solo would have been vigorously applauded. It even seemed to Henry Maxwell when she sat down that something like an attempted clapping of hands or a striking of feet on the floor swept through the church. He was startled by it. As he rose, however, and laid his sermon on the open Bible, he said to himself he had been deceived. Of course it could not occur. In a few moments he was absorbed in his sermon, and everything else was forgotten in the pleasure of the delivery. No one had ever accused Henry Maxwell of being a dull preacher. On the contrary, he had often been charged with being sensational. Not in what he said so much as in his way of saying it. But the First Church people liked that. It gave their preacher and their parish a pleasant distinction that was agreeable. It was also true that the pastor of the First Church loved to preach. He seldom exchanged. He was eager to be in his own pulpit when Sunday came. There was an exhilarating half-hour for him as he stood facing a church full of people and knew that he *'WHAT WOULD JESUS D0?'» IT was had a hearing. He was peculiarly sensitive to variations in the attendance. He never preached well before a small audience. The weather also affected him, de- cidedly. He was at his best before just such an audience as faced him now, on just such a morning. He felt a glow of satisfaction as he went on. The church was the first in the city. It had the best choir. It h:id a membership composed of the leading people, representatives of the wealth, society, and intelligence of Raymond. He was going abroad on a three months* vacation in the summer, and the circumstances of his pastorate, his influence, and his position as pastor of the First Church in the city It is not certain that the Rev. Henry Maxwell knew just how he could carry on all that thought in connec- tion with his sermon, but as he drew near the end of it he knew that he had at some point in his delivery had all these feelings. They had entered into the very sub- stance of his thought, it might have been all in a few seconds of time ; but he had been conscious of defining his position and his emotions as well if he had held a soliloquy, and his delivery partook of the thrill of deep personal satisfaction. The sermon was interesting. It was full of striking sentences. They would have commanded attention printed. Spoken with the passion of a dramatic utter- ance that had the good taste never to offend with a suspicion of ranting or declamation, they were very ci'feclive. If the Rev. Henry Maxwell that morning felt satisfied with the conditions of his pastorate, the parish of First Church also had a similar feeling as it -a 12 IN HIS STEPS. congratulated itself on the presence in the pulpit of this scholarly, refined, somewhat striking face and figure, preaching with such animation and freedom from all vulgar, noisy, or disagreeable mannerism. Suddenly, into the midst of this perfect accord and concord between preacher and audience, there came a very remarkable interruption. It would be difficult to indicate the extent of the shock which this interruption measured. It was so unexpected, so entirely contrary to any thought of any person present, that it offered no room for argument, or, for the time being, of resistance. The sermon had come to close. The Rev. Henry Maxwell had turned the half of the big Bible over upon his manuscript and was about to sit down, as the quartette prepared to rise and sing the closing selection, All for Jesus, All for Jesus, All my being's ransomed power, when the entire congregation was startled by the sound of a man's voice. It came from ihe rear of the church, from one of the seats under the gallery. The next moment the figure of a man came out of the shadow there and walked down the middle aisle. Before the startled congregation realised what was being done, the man had reached the open space in front of the pulpit and had turned about, facing the people. " I've been wondering since I came in here — " they were the words he used under the gallery, and fee repeafted them, "if it would be just 1he thing "to say a word at the close of this service. I'm not drunk imd I'm not crr.^y, and I'm perfectly liarmless ; but if I t i ladow "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 13 die, as there is every likelihood I shall in a few days, I want the satisfaction of thinking that I said my say in a place like this, before just this sort of a crowd." Henry Maxwell had not taken his seat, and he now reni.iined standing, leaning on his pulpit, looking down at the stranger. It was the man who had come to his house Friday morning, the same dusty, worn, shabby- looking young man. He held his faded hat in his two hands. It seemed to be a favourite gesture. He had not been shaved and his hair was rou<^h and tangled. It was doubtful if anyone like this had ever confronted the First Church within the sanctuary. It was tolerably familiar with this sort of humanity out on the street, I around the Railroad shops, wandering up and down the avenue, but it had never dreamed of such an in- cident as this so near. There was nothing offensive in the man's manner or tone. He was not excited, and he spoke in a low but distinct voice. Henry Maxwell was conscious, even as he stood there smitten into dr.mb astonishment at the event, that somehow the man's action reminded him of [a person he had once seen walking and talking in his ■sleep. No one in the church made any motion to stop the stranger, or in any way interrupt him. Perhaps the first shock of his sudden appearance deepened into : genuine perplexity concerning what was best to do. However that may be, he went on as if he had no tho-ught of interruption, and no thought of the unusual element he had introduced into the decorum of the First Church service. And all the while he was speak- 14 IN HIS STEPS. ing, Henry Maxwell leaned over the pulpit, his face growing more white and sad every moment. But he made no movement to stop him, and the people sat smitten into breathless silence. One other face, that of Rachel Winslow, from the choir seats, stared white and intent down at the shabby figure with the faded hat. Her face was striking at any time. Under the pressure of the present unheard-of incident, it was as personally distinct as if it had been framed in fire. " I'm not an ordinary tramp, though I don't know ©f any teaching of Jesus that makes one kind of a tramp less worth saving than another. Do you ? " He put the question as naturally as if the whole congregation had been a small private Bible-class. He paused just a moment and coughed painfully. Tlien he went on. ''I lost my job ten months ago, I am a printer by trade. The new linotype machines are beautiful specimens of invention, but I know six men who have killed themselves inside of the year, just on account of those machines. Of course I don't blame the newspapers for getting the machines. Meanwhile, what can a man do ? I know I never learned but the on 3 trade, and that's all I can do. I've tramped all over the country trying to find something. There are a good many others like me. I'm not complaining, am I ? Just stating facts. But I was wondering, as I sat there under the gallery, if what you call following Jesus is the same thing as what He taught. What did He mean when He said, * Follow Me ? ' The minister said, " here the man turned about and looked up at the pulpit, " that it was necessary for tlie disciple of Jesus I lis face But he 3 pie sat , that of lite and led hat. pressure rsonally t know a tramp He put ■egation scd just mt on. nter by cautiful 10 have iccount ne the nwhile, )ut the ped all ere are aining, g, as I owing lat did inis(er at the Jesus " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? ' 15 to follow His steps, and he said the steps were, obedience, faith, love, and imitation. But I did not hear him tell just what he meant that to mean, especially the last step. What do Christians mean by following the steps of Jesus ? I've tramped through this city for three days trying to find a job, and in all that time I've not had a word of sympathy or comfort except from your minister here, who said he was sorry for me and hoped I would find a job somewhere. I suppose it is because you get so imposed on by the professional tramp that you have lost your interest in the other sort. I'm not blaming anybody, am I ? Just stating facts. Of course I understand you can't all go out of your way to hunt up jobs for people like me. I'm not asking you to, but what I feel puzzled about is, what is meant by following Jesus ? Do you mean that you are suffering and denying yourselves and trying to save lost suffering humanity just as I under- stand Jesus did ? What do you mean by it ? I see the ragged edge of things a good deal. I understand there are more than five hundred men in this city in my case. Most of them have families. My wife died four months ago. I'm glad she is out of trouble. My little girl is staying with a printer's family until I find a job. Somehow I get puzzled when I see so many Christians living in luxury and singing, * Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee,' and remember how my wife died in a tenement in New York city, gasping for air and asking God to take the little girl too. Of course I don't expect you people can prevent every one from dying of starvation, lack of proper nourish- B l6 IN HIS STEPS. ment and tenement air, but what does following Jesus mean ? I understand that Christian people own u good many of the tenements. A member of a church was the owner of the one where my wife died, and 1 have wondered if following Jesus all the way was true in his case. I heard some people singing at a church prayer-meeting the other night, All for Jesus, all for Jesus ; All my being's ransomed powers ; All my thoughts and all my doings, AH my days and all my hours ; and I kept wondering as I sat on the steps outside just what they meant by it. It seems to me there's an awful lot of trouble in the world that somehow wouldn't exist if all the people who sing such songs went and lived them out. I suppose I don't understand. But what would Jesus do ? Is that what you mean by following His steps ? It seems to me sometimes as if the people in the city churches had good clothes and nice houses to live in, and money to spend for luxuries, and could go away on summer vacations and all that, w^hile the people outside of the churches, thousands of them, I mean, die in tenements and walk the streets for jobs, and never have a piano or a picture in the house, and grow up in misery and drunkenness and sin — " the man gave a queer lurch over in the direction of the com- munion table and laid one grimy hand on it. His hat fell upon the carpet at his feet. A stir went through the congregation. Dr. West half rose to his feet, but as yet the silence was unbroken by any voice or movement worth mentioning in the audience. The corn- is hat rough feet, ice or The " WHAT WOULD JKSUS DO?" 17 man passed his otlier hand across his eyes, and then, without any warning, fell heavily forward on his face, full length, up the aisle. Henry Maxwell spoke, " We will consider the service dismissed." He was down the pulpit stairs and kneel- ing by the prostrate form before anyone else. The audience instantly rose and the aisle was crowded. Dr- West pronounced the man alive. He had fainted away. " Some heart trouble," the doctor also muttered as he helped carry him into the pastor's study. Henry Maxwell and a group of his church members remained some time in the study. The man lay on the couch there and breathed heavily. When the question of what to do with him came up, the minister insisted upon taking him to his house. He lived near by and had an extra room. Rachel Winslow said, " Mother has no company at present. I am sure we would be glad to give him a place with us." She looked strangely agitated. No one noticed it particularly. They were all excited over the strange event, the strangest that First Church people could remember. But the minister insisted on taking charge of the man, and when a carriage came, the unconscious but living form was carried to liis house, and with the entrance of that humanity into the minister's spare room a new chapter in Henry Maxwell's life began, and yet no one, himself least of all, dreamed of the remarkable change it was destined to make in all his after delinition of Christian discipleship. The event created a great sensation in the First i8 IN HIS sth:i's. Church parish. People talked of nothing else for a week. It was the general impression that the man had wandered into the church in a condition of mental disturbance caused by his troubles, and that all the time he was talking he was in a strange delirium of fever, and really ignorant of his surroundings. That was the most charitable construction to put upon his action ; it was the general agreement also that there was a singular absence of anything bitter or complain- ing in what the man had said. He had throughout spoken in a mild apologetic tone, almost as if he were one of the congregation seeking for light on a very difficult subject. The third day after his removal to the minister's house there was a marked change in his condition. The doctor spoke of it and offered no hope. Saturday morning he still lingered, although lie had rapidly failed as the week drew near to its close. Sunday morning just before the clock struck one, he rallied and asked if his child had come. The minister had sent for her at once as soon as he had been able to secure her address from some letters found in the man's pocket. He had been conscious and able to talk coherently only a few moments since his attack. "The child is coming. She will be here," Henry Maxwell said as he sat there, his face showing marks of the strain of the week's vigil. For he had insisted on sitting up nearly every night. " 1 shall never see her in this world," the man whispered. Then he uttered with great difficulty the words, "You hcive been good to me. Somehow I feel i '• WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" : for a \i\ had mental all the ium of . That pon his it there m plain - )Ughout he were a very linister's ndition. paturday rapidly Sunday lied and ad sent secure man's to talk "The Maxwell e strain ting up Ihe man |ulty the I feel 19 a few as if it was what Jesus would do." After moments he turned his head slightly, and before Henry Maxwell could realise the fact, the doctor said, " He i'i gone." fl The 'Sunday morning that dawned on the city of Kaymond was exactly like the Sunday of the week i before. Henry Maxwell entered his pulpit to face one ■^ of the largest congregations that had ever crowded First Church. He was haggard, and looked as if he had just risen from a long illness. His wife was at liome with the little girl, who had come on the morning train an hour after her father died. He lay in that spare room, his troubles over, and Henry Maxwell could see the face as he opcmied the Bible and arranged his different notices on the side of the desk as he had been in the habit of doing for ten years. The service that morning contained a new element. No one could remember when the minister had preached in the morning without notes. As a matter of fact he had done so occasionally when he first entered the ministry, but for a long time he had carefully written out every word of his morning sermon, and nearly always his evening discourse as well. It cannot be said that his sermon this morning was very striking or impressive. He talked with considerable !iesitation. It was evident that some great idea struggled in his thought for utterance, but it was nol expressed in the theme he had chosen for his preaching. It was near the close of his sermon that he began to gather a certain strength that had been painfully lacking at the beginning. He closed the Bible^ and, 2J IN HIS STEPS. stepping out at the side of the desk, he faced his people, and began to talk to them about the remarkable scene of the week before. " Our brother," somehow the words sounded a little strange coming from Henry Maxwell's lips, "passed away this morning. I have not yet had time to learn all his history. He had one sister living in Chicago. I have written i.er and have not yet received an answer. His little girl is with us, and will remain for the time." He paused and looked over the house. He thought he had never seen so many earnest faces during the entire pastorate. He was not able yet to tell his people liis experiences, the crisis through which he was even now moving. But something of his feeling passed from him to them, and it did not seem to him that he was acting under a careless impulse at all to go on and break to them, this morning, something of the message he bore in his heart. So he went on. " The appearance and words of this stranger in the church last Sunday made a very powerful impression on me. I am not able to conceal from you or myself the fact that what he said, followed as it has been by his death in my house, has compelled me to ask as I never asked before, ' What does following Jesus mean ? ' I am not in a position yet to utter any condemnation of this people, or, to a certain extent, of myself, either in our Christlike relations to this man or the number he represents in the world. But all that does not prevent me from feeling that much that the man said was so vitally true that we must face it in dw attempt to answer it, or else stand condemned as 21 ed his irkable a little passed I learn licago. msvw r. time." bought ing the people IS even passed that he on and Liessage in the iression myself een by k as I ; Jesus cr any extent, IS man But all h that :e it in ned as " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? i= Christian disciples. A good deal that was said here just Sunday was in the nature of a challenge to Christianity as ft is seen and felt in our churches. I have felt this with increasing emphasis every day since. And I do not know that any time is more appro- priate than the present for me to propose a plan or a purpose which has been forming iji my mind as a satisfactory reply to much that was said here last Sunday." Again Henry Maxwell paused, and looked into the faces of his people. There were some strong, earnest men and women m the First Church. The minister could see Edward Norman, editor of the Raymond Daily Ncn's. He had been a member of First Church for ten years. No man was more honoured in the community. There was Alexander Powers, Superintendent of the Railroad shops. There was Donald Marsh, Piesident of Lincoln College, situated in the suburbs of Raymond. There was Milton Wright, one of thj great merchants of Raymond, having in his employ at least one hundred men in various shops. There was Dr. W>st, who, althougli still comparatively yoimg, w;;s quoted as authority in special surgical cases. There was young Jasper Chase, the author, who had written one successful book and was said to be at work on a new novel. There was Miss Virginia Page, the heiress, who through the recent death of her father had inherited a million at least, and was gifted with unusual attractions of person and intellect. And, not least of all, Rachel Winslow from her seat in the choir glowed with her peculiar bea'.'y of light this mornin 22 IN HIS STEPS. because she was so intensely interested in the whole scone. There was some reason perhaps, in view of such material in the First Church, for Henry Maxwell's feeling of satisfaction whenever he considered his parish as he had the previous Sunday. There was a large number of strong individual characters who claimed membership there. But as he noted their faces this morning, Henry Maxwell was simply wondering how many of them would respond to the strange proposition he was about to make. He continued slowly, taking time to choose his words carefully and giving the people an impression they had never felt before, even when he was at his best, with his most dramatic delivery : " What I am going to propose now is something which ought not to appear unusual or at all impossible of execution. Yet I am aware that it will be so regarded by a large number, perhaps, of the members of the church. But in order that we may have a thorough understanding of what we are considering, I will put my proposition very plainly, perhaps bluntly. I want volunteers from the First Church who will pledge themselves earnestly and honestly for an entire year not to do anything without first asking the question, * What would Jesus do?' And after asking that question, each one will follow Jesus as exactly as he knows how, no matter what the results may be. I will of course include myself in this company of volunteers, and shall take for granted that my church here will not be surprised at my future conduct as based upon this standard of action, and I "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 23 iC whole of such laxwell's ired his "e was a ers who leir faces Diidering strange onlinued ally and lever felt his most propose unusual A'are that -haps, of that we we are plainly, he First stly and without us do ? ' 11 follow what the i\i in this ted that ly future ion, and will not oppose whatever is done if they think Christ would do it. Have I made my meaning clear ? At the close of the service here I want all those members of the church who are willing to join such a company to remain, and we will talk over the details of the plan. Our motto will be, 'What would Jesus do ? ' Our aim will be to act just as He would if He were in our places, regardless of immediate results. In other words, we propose to follow Jesus' steps as closely and as literally as we believe He taught His disciples to do. And those who volunteer to do this will pledge themselves for an entire year, beginning with to-day, so to act." Henry Maxwell paused again and looked over his church. It is not easy to describe the sensation that such a simple proposition apparently made. Men glanced at one another in astonishment. It was not like Henry Maxwell to define Christian discipleship in this way. There was evident confusion of thought over his proposition. It was understood well enough, but there was apparently a great difference of opinion as to the application of Jesus' teaching and example. Henry Maxwell calmly closed the service with a brief prayer. The organist began his postlude immediately after the benediction, and the people began to go out. There was a great deal of conversation. Animated groups stood all over the church discussing the minister's proposition. It was evidently provoking great discussion. After several minutes Henry Maxwell asked all who intended to remain, to pass into the lecture-room on the side. He himself was detained af the front of the church talking with several persons 24 IN HIS STEPS. there, and when he finally turned around, the church was empty. He walked over to the lecture-room entrance and went in. He was almost startled to see the people who were there. He had not made up his mind about any of his members, but he had hardly expected that so many were ready to enter into such a literal testing of their discipleship as now awaited them. There were perhaps fifty members present. Among them were Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page, Mr. Norman, President Marsh, Alexander Powers, the railroad super- intendent, Milton Wright, Dr. West, and Jasper Chase. The pastor closed the door of the lecture-room and stood before the little group. His face was pale and his lips trembled with emotion. It was to him a genuine crisis in his own life and that of his parish. No man can tell until he is moved by the Divine Spirit what he may do, or how he may change the current of a lifetime of fixed habits of thought and speech and action. Henry Maxwel) did not, as we have said, yet know himself all that he was passing through, but he was conscious of a great upheaval in his definitions of Christian discipleship, and he was moved with a deptli of feeling he could not measure, as he looked into the faces of these men and women on this occasion. It seemed to him that the most fitting word to be spoken first was that of prayer. He asked them all to pray with him. And almost with the first syllable he uttered there was a distinct presence of the Spirit felt by them all. As the prayer went on, this presence grew in power. They aJl felt it. The room was filled with it as plainly as if it had been visible. When the I h was ranee )eople about i that esting were were rman, super- Chase. m. and e and him a parish. Spirit ent of ;h and id, yet 3ut he Dns of depth o the to be all to 3le he it felt jsence filled m the " WHAT WOULD JESl^S DO r' 25 prayer closed there was a silence that lasted several moments. All the heads were bowed. Henry Maxwell's face was wet with tears. U an audible voice from heaven had sanctioned their pledge to follow the Master's steps, not one person present could have felt more certain of the divine blessing. And so the most serious movement ever started in the First Church of Kciymond was begun. " We cill understand," said Henry Maxwell, speaking very quietly, " what we have undertaken to do. We pledge ourselves to do everything in our daily lives after asking the question, ' What would Jesus do ? ' regardless of what may be the result to us. Some time I shall be able to tell you what a marvellous change has come over my life within a week's time. I cannot now. But the experience I have been through since last Sunday has left me so dissatisfied with my previous definition of discipleship that I have been compelled to take this action. I did not dare begin it alone. I know that I am being led by the hand of divine love in all this. The same divine impulse must have led you also. Do we uiaderstand fully what we have undertaken ? " " I want to ask a question," said Rachel Winslow. Everyone turned towards her. Her face glowed with a beauty that no loveliness could ever create. " I am a little in doubt as to the source of our knowledge concerning what Jesus would do. Who is to decide for me just what He would do in my case ? It is a different age. There are many perplexing questions in our civilisation that arc not mentioned in 26 IN HIS STEPS. the teachinj^ of Jesus. How am I going to tell what He would do ? " *' There is no way that I know of/' replied Mr. Maxwell, "except as we. study Jesus through the medium of the Holy Spirit. You remember what Christ said, speaking to His disciples about the Holy Spirit : " * Howbeit, when He, the Spirit of Truth, is come, He shall guide you into all the truth : for He shall not speak from Himself ; but what things soever He shall hear, these shall He speak : and He shall declare unto you the things that are to come. He shall glorify Me : /or He shall take of Mine and shall declare it unto you. All things whatsoever the Father hath are Mine : therefore said I that He taketh of Mine and shall declare it unto you.' "There is no other test that I know of. We shall all have to decide what Jesus would do after going to that source of knowledge." "What if others say of us when we do certain things, that Jesus would not do so ? " asked the Superintendent of railroads. "We cannot prevent that. But we must be absolutely honest with ourselves. The standard of Christian action cannot vary in most of our acts." "And yet what one church member thinks Jesus would do, another refuses to accept as his possible course of action. What is to render our conduct uniformly Christlike ? Will it be possible to reach the same conclusions always in all cases ? " asked F'resident Marsh. an: [ what d Mr. jh the ■ what I Holy come, all not e shall •e unto fy Me : it unto Mine : i shall e shall Ding to hings, endent jst be ird of Jesus 3ssible )nduct ch the sident " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 27 Henry Maxwell was silent some time. Then he answered : " No. I don't know that we can expect that. But when it comes to a genuine, honest, enlightened following of Jesus' steps, I cannot believe there will be any confusion either m our own minds or in the judgment of others. We must be free from fanaticism on one hand and too much caution on the other. If Jesus' example is the example for the world, it certainly must be feasible to follow it. But we need to remember this great fact. After we have asked the Spirit to tell us what Jesus would do and have received an answer to it, we are to act regardless of the results to ourselves. Is that understood ?" All the faces in the room were raised towards the minister in solemn assent. There was no misunder- standing the proposition. Henry Maxwell's face quivered again as he noted the President of the Endeavour Society, with several members, seated back of the older men and women. They remained a little longer talking over details and asking questions, and agreed to report to one another every week at a regular meeting the result of their experiences in following Jesus in this way. Henry Maxwell prayed again. And again, as before, the Spirit made Himself manifest. Every head remained bowed a long time. They went away finally in silence. There was a feeling that prevented speech. Henry Maxwell shook hands with them all as they went out. Then he went to his own study room back of the pulpit and knelt down. He remained there 28 IX HIS STEPS. alone nearly half an hour. When he went home, he went into the room where the dead body lay. As he looked at the face, he cried in his heart again for strength and wisdom. But not even yet did he realise that a movement had been begun which would lead to the most remarkable series of events that the city of Raymond had ever known. CHAPTER II. He that saitli he abidcth iii Hini, ought himself also to walk even as He walked. EDWARD NORMAN, editor of the Raymond Daily Xcws, sat in his office room Monday morning and faced a new world of action. He had made his pledge in good faith to do everything after asking, *'What would Jesus do?" and, as he supposed, with his eyes open to all the possible results. But as the regular life of the paper started on anoth er week's rush and whirl of activity he confronted it with a degree of hesitation and a feeling nearly akin to fear. He had come down to the office very early, and for a few minutes was by himself. He sat at his desk in a growing thoughtfulness that finally became a desire which he knew was as great as it was unusual. He had yet to learn, with all the others in that little company pledged to do the Christlike thing, that tl;e Spirit of Life was moving in power through his own life as never before. He rose and shut liis door and then did what he had not done for years. He knelt down by his desk and prayed for the divine presence and wisdom to direct him. He rose with the day before him and his promise dis'inct and clear in his mind. " Now for action," ho 3» IN HIS STEPS. seemed to say. But he would be led by events as fast as they came on. He opened his door and began the routine of the office work. The managing editor had just come in, and was at his desk in the adjoining room. One of the reporters there was pounding out something on u typewriter. Edward Norman began an editorial. TJie Daily Navs was an evening paper, and Norman usually completed his leading editorial before eight o'clock. He had been writing about fifteen minutes, when the managing editor called out; " Here's this press report of yesterday's prize fight at the Resort. It will make up three columns and a half. I suppose it all goes in ? " Edward Norman was one of those newspaper men who keep an eye on every detail of the paper. The managing editor always consulted his chief in matters of both small and large importance. Some- times, as in this case, it was merely a nominal inquiry. " Yes — No. Let me see it." He took the type-written matter just as it came from the telegraph editor, and ran over it carefully. Then he laid the sheets down on his desk, and did some very hard thinking. " We won't run this in to-day," he said finally. The managing editor was standing in the doorway between the two rooms. He was astonished at the editor's remark, and thought he had perhaps misunder- stood him. 1* << 1 \h:\\\ i said N Clai alone. said al J as fast J of the ome in, One of ng on u c Daily usually lock, s, when is press It will )3e it all )er men r. The lief in Some- nominal ne from . Then me very y- loorway | at the sunder- "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? 31 "What did you say?" " Leave it out. We won't use it." '< J3^,t — " The managing editor was simply dumb- lounded. He stared at Norman as if the editor were out of his mind. " I think, Clark, that it ought not to be printed, and that's the end of it," said Edward Norman, looking up from his desk. Clark seldom had many words with the chief. Norman's word had always been law in the office, and lie had seldom been known to change his mind. The circumstances now, however, seemed to be so extra- ordinary that Clark could not help expressing himself. " Do you mean that the paper is to go to press without a word of the prize fight in it ?" " Yes, that's just what I mean." " But it's unheard of. All the other papers will print it. What will our subscribers say ? Why, it's simply — " Clark paused, unable to find words to say what he thought. Edward Norman looked at Clark thoughtfully. The managing editor was a member of a church of a different denomination from that of Norman's. The two men had never talked together on religious matters, although they had been associated on the paper for several years. "Come in here a minute, Clark, and shut the door," said Norman. . Clark came in, and the two men faced each other alone. Norman did not speak for a mmute. Then he said abruptly — '" c 32 IN HIS STEPS. ¥ " Chirk; if Clirist were editing a daily paper, do you honestly think he would print three columns and a lialf of prize fight in it ? " Clark gasped in astonishment. Finally he replied, *' No, I don't suppose He would." " Well, that's my only reason for shutting this account out of The Xavs. I have decided not to do a thing in connection with the paper for a whole year that I honestly believe Jesus would not do." Clark could not have looked more amazed if the chief had suddenly gone crazy. In fact, he did think some- thing was wrong, though Mr. Norman was one of the last men in the world, in his judgment, to lose his mind. *' What effect will that have on the paper ? " he finally managed to ask in a faint voice. "What do you think?" asked Edward Norman, with a keen glance. " I think it will simply ruin the paper," replied Clark promptly. He was gathering up his bewildered senses, and began to remonstrate. " Why, it isn't feasible to run a paper nowadays on any such basis. It's too ideal. The \^'orld isfn't ready for it. You can't make it pay. Just a- sure as you live, if you shut out this prize fight report you will lose hundreds of subscribers. It doesn't take a prophet to say that. The veiy best people in town are eager to read it. They know it has taken place, and when they get the paper this evening they will expect half a page at least. Surely you can't afford to disregard the wishes of the public to such an extent. It will be a great mistake if you do, in my opinion," it has It-; '<- " WHAT WOl'LI) JKSIS DO?*' 33 Edward Norman sat silent .1 minute. Then he spoke gently, but firmly. ''Clark, what in your honest opinion is the right standard for determining conduct ? Is the only right standard for everyone the probable action of Jesus ? Would you say that the highest, best law for a man to live by was contained in asl;ing the question, * What would Jesus do?' and then doing it regardless of results ? In other words, do you think men every- where ought to follou Jesus' example as close as they can in their daily lives i* " Clark turned red, and moved uneasily in his chair before he answered the editor's question. " Why — yes — . I suppose if you put it on the ground of what they ought to do there is no other standard of conduct. But the question is, what is feasible ? Is it possible to make it pay ? To succeed in the newspaper business we have got to conform to the customs and the recognised methods of society. We can't do as we would do in an ideal world." " Do you mean that we can't run the paper strictly on Christian principles and make it succeed ? " " Yes, that's just what I mean. It can't be done. We'll go bankrupt in thirty days." Edward Norman did not reply at once. He was\^*"y thoughtful. "We shall have occasion to talk this over again, Clark. Meanwhile, I think we ought to understand each other frankly. I have pledged myself for a year to do everything connected with the paper after answering the Question ' What ufinhl lesus do ? ' as -mg questic J' 34 IN HIS STEPS. honestly as possible. I shall continue to do this in the belief that not only can we succeed, but that we can succeed better than we ever did." Clark rose. " Then the report does not go in ? " *' It does not. There is plenty of good material to take its place, and you know what it is." Clark hesitated. "Are you going to say anything about the absence of the report ? " •' No, let the paper go to press as if there had been no such thing as a prize fight yesterday." Clark walked out of the room to his own desk feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. He was astonished-, bewildered, excited, and consider- ably enraged. His great respect for Norman checked his rising indignation and disgust, but with it all was a feeling of growing wonder at the sudden change of motive which had entered the office of TJic Daily News and threatened, as he firmly believed, to destroy it. Before noon every reporter, pressman, and em- ployee on TJic Daily News was informed of the remarkable fact that the paper was going to press without a word in it about the famous prize fight of Sunday. The reporters were simply astonished be- yond measure at the announcement of the fact. Everyone in the stereotyping and composing rooms had something to say about the unheard-of omission. Two or three times during the day when Mr. Norman had occasion to visit the composing rooms, the men stopped their work or glanced around their cases looking at him curiously. He knew that he was w* "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 35 being observed strangely and said nothing, and did not appear to note it. There had been several changes in the paper suggested by the editor, but nothing marked. He was waiting, and thinking deeply. He felt as if he needed time and considerable opportunity for the exercise of his best judgment in several matters before he answered his ever-present question in the right way. It was not because there were not a great many things in the life of the paper that were con- trary to the spirit of Christ that he did not act at once, but because he was yet greatly in doubt con- cerning what action Jesus would take. When The Daily News came out that evening it carried to its subscribers a distinct sensation. The presence of the report of the prize fight could not have produced anything equal to the effect of its omission. Hundreds of men in the hotels and stores down town, as well as regular subscribers, eagerly opened the paper and senrched it through for the account of the great fight. No. finding it they rushed to the news stand and bought other papers. Even the newsboys had not all understood the fact of the omission. One of them was calling out, " Daily Xcivs ! Full 'count great prize fight 't Resort. Xcivs, sir ? " A man at the corner of the Avenue close by the XciVs oftice bought the paper, looked over its front page hurriedly, and then an^frjv called the boy back. " Here, boy ! What's th? ;::atter with your paper ? There is no prize fight here i What do you mean by selling old papers ? " 36 IN HIS STEPS. ** Old papers, nuthin !" replied the boy, indignantly. ** Dat's to-day's paper. What's de matter vvid you ? " "But there's no account of any prize fight here! Look ! " The man handed back the paper and the boy glanced at it hurriedly. Then he whistled, while a bewildered look crept over his face. Seeing another boy running by with papers he called out, *' Say, Sam, lemme see your pile I " A hasty examination revealed \he re- markable fact that all the copies of the News werii silent on the prize fight. " Here, give me another paper I One with the prize fight account!" shouted the customer. He received it and walked off, while the two boys remained com- paring notes and lost fn wonder at the event. " Somp'n slipped a cog in the Newsy, sure," said first boy. But he couldn't tell why, and rushed over to the A't^is office to find out. There were several other boys at the delivery room, and they were all excited and disgusted. The amount. of slangy remonstrances hurled at the clerk back oi long counter would have driven anyone else to despair, lie was used to more or less of it all the time, and consequently hardened to it. Mr. Norman was just coming downstairs on his way home, and he paused as he went by the door of the delivery room and looked in. " What's the matter here, George ? " he asked tiit clerk, as he noted the unusual confusion. **The boys say they can't sell any croies of The News to-night, because the prizefight is rutin it/' replied £; m i'<-"r.-'C jpair. and his )r of till:: )lied m " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 37 George, looking curiously at the editor, as so many of the employees had done during the day. Mr. Norman hesitated a moment, then walked into the room and confronted the boys. *' How many papers are here, boys ? Count them out, and I'll buy them to-night." There was a wild stare and a wild counting of papers on the part of the boys. " Give them their money, George, and if any of the other boys come in with the same complaint, buy their unsold copies. Is that fair ? " he asked of the boys, who were smitten into unusual silence by the unheard- of action on the part of the editor. " Fair ! Well, I should — . But will you keep dis up ? Will dis be a continual performance for de benefit of de fraternity ? " Mr. Norman smiled slightly, but he did not think it was necessary to answer the question. He walked out of the office and went home. On the way he could not avoid that constant query, " Would Jesus have done it?" It was not so much with reference to this last transaction as to the entire motive that had urged him on since he had made the promise. The news boys were necessarily sufferers through the action he had taken. Why should they lose money by it ? They were not to blame. He was a rich man, and could afford to put a little brightness into their lives if he chose to do it. He believed, as he went on his way home, that Jesus would have done either what he did, oi something similar, in order to be freo from any possible feeling of mjusiice. He was not deciding ii 38 IN HIS STEPS. these questions for anyone else, but for his own conduct. He was not in a position to dogmatise, and he felt that he coula answer only with his own judg- ment and conscience as to his interpretation of Jesus' probable action. The falHng off in sales of the paper lie had m a certain measure foreseen. But he was yet to realise the full extent oi the loss to the paper if such a policy should be continued. I"' Li ' the week he was in receipt of numerous letters . mmenting on the absence trom The Xezvs of the account of the prize fight. Two or three ol these letters may be ol interest. Editor of T/ic News. Dear Sir : I have l-)cen deciding for some time to chanf^c my paper. I want a journal that is up to the tuneb.,.progicssivc and enterpris- ing, supplyiiig the public demand at all points. Tlic recent freak of your paper in refusing to print the account of the lamous con- test at file Resort lias decided me finally to ciiange my paper. Please discontinue it. Very truly yours, m M (Here followed the name of a business man wJio had been a subscriber for many years.) Edward Norman, r^ditor of Tlic Daily News, Raymond. Dear Ed. What IS this sensation you have given the people of your burg? Hope you don't intend to try the "Reform Business" through the avenue of the Press. It's dangerous to experiment much along that line. Take my advice and stick to the enter- prising modern methods you have made so successful for The News. The public wants prizo fights and such. Give it what it wants, and let some one else do the Reforming busines.j. Yours, . . "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 39 (Here followed the name of one of Norman's old friends, the editor of a daily m an adjoining town.) My dear Mr. Norman : I hasten to write you a note of appreciation for Ihc evident carrying out of your promise. It is a splendid bjginning, and no one feels the value of it better than I do. I know somcthuig of what it will cost you, but not all. Your Pastor, H i:\RY Maxwell. One letter which he opened immediately after reading this from Maxwell revealed to him something of the loss to his business that possibly awaited him. Mr. Edward Norman, Editor of The Daily Nck'S. Dear Sir, At the cxpiratfon of my advertising limit you will do mc the favour not to continue as you have done heretofore. I enclose cheque for payment in full and shall consider uiy account with your paper closed after date. Very truly yours, who (Here followed the name of one of the largest dealers ■in tobacco in the city. He had been in the habi: of insertmg a column of conspicuous -advertising and paying for it a very large price.) Edward Norman laid this letter down very "thought- fully, and then after a moment he took up a copy of his paper and looked through the advertising columns. There was no connection implied in the tobacco mer- chant's letter between the omission of the prize fight and the withdrawal of the advertisement. But he could jiot avoid putting the two together. In point of fact, he afterwards learned that the tobacco dealer withdrew 40 IN HIS STEPS. his advertisement because he had heard that the editor of The Ncivs was about to enter upon some queer reform pohcy that would be certain to reduce its sub- scription list. But the letter directed Norman's attention to the advertising phase of his paper. He had not considered this before. As he glanced over the columns he could not escape the conviction that Jesus could not permit some of them in his paper. What would Jesus do v.ith that other long advertisement of liquor ? Raymond v,ni joyed a system of high licence, and the saloon and th? billiard hall and the beer garden were a part of the city's Christian civilisation. He was simply doing what every other business man in Raymond did. And it was one of the best paying sources of revenue. What vvould the paper do if it cut uiese out ? Could it live ? That was the question. But — was thai; the question after all? "What would Jesus do?" That was the question he was answering, or trying to answer, this week. Would Jesus i.dvertise whisky and tobacco in his paper ? Edward Norman asked it honestly, and after a prayer for help and wisdom he asked Clark to come into the ofiice. Clark came in feeling that the paper was at a crisis, and prepared for almost anything after his Monday morning experience. This was Thursday, •'Clark," said Norman, speaking slowly and carefully, " 1 have been looking at our advertising columns, and have decided to dispense with some of the matter as soon as the contracts run out. I wish you would notify m " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 41 I Ihe advertising agent not to solicit or renew the ads. I have marked here." He handed the paper with the marked places over to Clark, who took it and looked over the columns with a very serious air. "This will mean a great loss to The Xcivs. How long do you think you can keep this sort of thing up?" Clark was astonished at the editor's action, and could not understand it. '• Clark, do you think, if Jesus were the editor and proprietor of a daily paper in Raymond, He would print advertisements of whisky and tobacco in it ? " Clark looked at his chief with that same look of astonishment which had greeted the question before. " Well — no — I don't suppose He would. But wliat has that to do with us ? We can't do as He would. Newspapers can't be run on any such basis." " Why not ? " asked Edward Norman, quietly. "Why not! Because they will lose more money than they make, that's all." Clark spoke out with an irritation that he really felt. " We shall certainly bankrupt the paper with this sort of business policy." "Do you think so?" Norman asked the question not as if he expected an answer, but simply as if 1 e were talking with himself. After a pause he said : " You may direct Marks to do as I said. I believe it is what Jesus would do ; and, as I told you, Clark, that is what I have promised to try to do for a year, regardless of what the results may be to me. I cannot believe that by any kind of reasoning we could reach a conclusion justifying Jesus in the advertisement, in 42 IN HIS STEPS. this age, of whisky and tobacco in a newspaper. There are some other advertisements of a doubtful character 1 shall study into. Meanwhile I feel a conviction in regard to these that cannot be silenced." Clark went back to his desk feeling as if he had been in the presence of a very peculiar person. He could not grasp the meaning of it all. He felt enraged and alarmed. He was sure any such policy would ruin the paper as soon as it became generally known that the editor was trying to do everything by such an absurd moral standard. What would become of business if this standard were adopted ? It would upset every custom and introduce endless confusion, it was simply foolishness. It was downright idiocy. So Clark said to himself, and when Marks was informed of the action he seconded the managing editor with some very forcible ejaculations. What was the matter with the chief ? Was he insane ? Was he going lo bankrupt the whole business ? But Edward Norman had not faced his most serious problem. When he came down to the office Friday morning he was confronted with the usual programme for the Sunday morning edition. The News was one ot the few evening papers to issue a Sunday edition, and it had always been remarkably successful financially. There was an average of one page of literary and religious items to thirty or forty pages of sport, theatre, fiossip, fashion, society, and political material. This made a very interesting magazine of all sorts of reading matter, and had always been welcomed by all the and Ltre, 'his i 3 t-1 "i «■::;» I « WHAT WOULD JESUS DU ( ..3 subscribers, church members and all, as a Sunday necessity. Edward Norman now faced this fact, and put to himself the question, *'What would Jesus do ?" If he were editor of a pr.pcr would he deliberately plan to put into the homes ox all the church people and Christians of Raymond such a collection of reading matter on the one day of the week which ought to be given up tc something better and holier ? He was, of course, familiar with the regular argument for the Sunday paper, that the public needed something of the sort, and the vvorkmg man, especially, who would not go to church any way> ought to have something enter- tainmg and instructive on Sunday, his only day of rest. But suppose the Sunday morning paper did not pay ? Suppose there was no money in it ? How eager would the editor or the proprietor be then to supply this crying need of the working man ? Edward Norman communed honestly with himself over the subject. Taking everything into account, would Jesus probably edit a Sunday morning paper ? No matter whether it paid. That was not the question. As a- matter of fact. The Sunday Xcn'S paid so well that it would be a direct loss of thousands of dollars to discontinue it. Besides, the regular subscribers had paid for a seven-day paper. Had he any right now to give them anything less than they had supposed they had paid for ? He was honestly perplexed by the question. So much was involved in the discontinuance of the Sunday edition that for the first time he almost declined to be guided by the standard of Jesus' probable action. He 44 IN HIS STEPS. was sole proprietor of the paper. It wrs his to shape as he chose. He had no board of directors to consult as to policy. But, as he sat there surrounded by the usual quantity of material for the Sunday edition, he reached somo definite conclusions, .md among them was the determination to call in the force of the paper, and frankly state his motive and purpose. He sent word for Clark and th«i other men in the office, including the few reporters who were in the building and the foreman, witli what men were in the composing room (it was early in th.' mornmg, and they were not all in), to come mto the mailing room^ This was a large room, and the men came in, wonder- ing, and perched around on the tables and counters. It was a very unusual proceeding, but they all agreed that the paper was being run on new prn^ciples, any- how, and they all watched Mr. Norman curiously as he spoke. " I called you in here to let you know my plans for the future of Tlie Neivs. I propose certain changes which I believe are necessary. 1 understand that some things I have already done are regarded by the men as very strange. I wish to state my motive in doing what I have done." Here he told the men what he had already told Clark, and they stared, as he had done, and looked as painfully conscious. " Now, in acting on this standard of conduct, I have reached a conclusion which will, no doubt, cause some surprise. I have decided that the Sunday morning edition of The News shall be discontinued after next Sunday's issue, I shall state ia thai issue my reasons "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 45 for discontinuing. In order to make up to the sub- scribers the amount of reading matter they may suppose themselves entitled to, we can issue a double number on Saturday, as is done by very many evening piipers that make no attempt at a Sunday edition. I am convinced that, from a Christi.ui point of view, more harm than good has been done by our Sunday morning paper. I do not believe that Jesus would be responsible for it if He were in my place to-day. It will occasion some trouble to arrange the details caused by this change with the advertisers and subscribers. That is for me to look after. The change itself is one that will take place. So far as I can see, the loss will fall on myself. Neither the reporters not, the press men need make any particular changes in their plans." Edward Norman looked around the room and no one spoke. He was struck for the first time in his life with the fact that in all the years of his newspaper life he had never had the force of the paper together in this way. "Would Jesus do that? That is, would He probably run a newspaper on some loving family plan where editors, reporters, pre'^smen and all, met to discuss and devise and plan > :r the making of a paper that should have in view " He caught himself drawing almost away from the facts of typographical unions and office rules and reporters' enterprise, and all the cold, business-like methods that make a great daily successful. But still, the vague picture that came up in the mailing room would not fade away, even when he had gone into his 46 IN HIS STEPS. office and the men luid ^one back to their phices with wonder in their looks and questions of all sorts on their tongues as they talked over the editor's remark- able actions. Clark came in and had a long .lous talk with the chief. He was thoroughly roused, and his protest almost reached the point of resigning his place. Norman guarded himself carefully. Every minute of the interview was painful to him, but he felt more than ever the necessity of doing the Christlike thing. Clark was a very valuable man. It would be diBicult to fill his place. But he was not able to give any reasons for continuing the Sunday paper that answered the ques- tion, "What would Jesus do?" b" letting Jesus prmt that edition. " It comes to this, then," said dark finally. *' You will bankrupt the paper in thirty days. We might as well face that future fact." *' I don't think we shall. Will you stay by The News until it is bankrupt ? " asked Edward Norman with a strange smile. " Mr. Norman, I don't understand you. You are not the same man this week that I ever knew." " I don't know myself, either, Clark. Something remarkable has caught me up and borne me on. But I was never more convinced of final success and power for the paper. You have not answered my question. Will you stay with me r " Clark hesitated a moment, and finally said " Yes." Norman shook hands with him, and turned to his desk. Clark went back into his room stirred by a liumber of " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ;-j 47 conflicting emotions. He hac4 never before known such an exciting and mentally disturbing week, and he felt now as if he were connected with an enterprise tliat might at any moment collapse and ruin Jiim and all connected with it. Sunday morning dawned again on Raymond, and Henry Maxwell's church was again crowded. Before the service began, Edward Norman attracted general attention. He sat quietly in his usual place about three seats from the pulpit. The Sunday morning, issue of TJic News containing the statement of its dis- continuance had been read by nearly every man in the house. The announcement had been expressed in such remarkable l.mguage that every reader was struck by it. No such series of distinct sensations had ever disturbed the usual business custom of Raymond. The events connected with The News were not all. People were eagerly talking about the strange things done during the week by Alexander Powers at the Railroad shops, and by Milton Wright in his stores on the Avenue. The service progressed upon a distinct wave of excitement in the pews. Henry Maxwell faced it all with a calmness which indicated a strength and purpose more than usual. His prayers were very helpful. His sermon was not so easy to describe. How would a minister be apt to preach to his people if he came before them after an entire week of eager asking, " How would Jesus preach ? What would He pro- bably say?" It is very certain that Henry Maxwell did not preach as he had done two Sundays before. Tuesday of the past week he had stood by the grave 4» IN HIS STEPS. of the dead stranger and said the words, " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust/' and still he was moved by the spirit of a deeper impulse than he could measure a« he thought of his people and yearned for the Christ message when he should be in his pulpit again. Now that Sunday had come and the people vera there to hear, what would the Master tell them ? He agonised over his preparation for them, and yet he knew he had not been ?Me to fit his message into his ideal of the Christ. Nevertheless, no one in the First Church could remember hearing such a sermon before. There was in it rebuke for sin, especially hypocrisy. There was definite rebuke of the greed of wealth and the selfishness of fashion, two things that First Church never heard rebuked this way before, and there was a love of his people that gathered new force as the sermon went on. When it was finished there were those who were saying in their hearts, " The Spirit moved that sermon." And they were right. Then Rachel Winslow rose to sing. This time, after the sermon, by Henry Maxwell's request. Rachel's singing did not provoke applause this time. What deeper feeling carried people's hearts into a reverent silence and tenderness of thought ? Rachel was beau- tiful. But the consciousness of her remarkable loveli- ness had always marred her singing with those who had the deepest spiritual feeling. It had also marred her rendering of certain kinds of music with herself. To-day this was all gone. There was no lack of power in her grand voice. But there was an actual added ipirit »eau- veli- Irred Kver ' WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? ' 49 element of humility and purity which the audience strictly felt and bowed to. Before the service closed, Henry Maxwell asked those who had remained the week before to stay again for a few moments for consultation, and any others who were willing to make the pledge taken at that time. When he was at liberty he went into the lecture room. To his astonishment it was almost filled. This time a large proportion of young people liad come. But among them were a few business men and officers of the church. As before, Henry Maxwell asked them to pray with him. And as before, a distinct answer came in the presence of the Divine Spirit. There was no doubt in the mind of anyone present that what they pro- posed to do was so clearly in line with the divine will, that a blessing rested on it in a very special manner. They remained some time to ask questions and con- sult together. There was a feeling of fellowship such as they had never known in their church membership. Edward Norman's action was well understood by them all, and he answered several questions. " W^hat will be the probable result of your discon- tinuance of the Sunday paper?" asked Alexander Powers, who sat next to him. " I don't know yet. I presume it will result in a falling off of subscriptions and advertisements. I anticipate that." " Do you have any doubts about your action ? I mean, do you regret it, or fear it is not what Jesus would do ? " asked Henry Maxwell. 50 IN HIS STEPS. " Not in the least. But I would like to ask, for my own satisfaction, if any one of you here thinks Jesus would issue a Sunday morning paper ? " No one spoke for a minute. Then Jasper Chase said, **We seem to think alike on that, but I have been puzzled several times during the week to know just what He would do. It is not always an easy question to answer." *' I find that trouble," said Virginia Page. She sat by Rachel Winslow. Everyone who knew Virginia Page was wondering how she would succeed in keeping her promise. "I think perhaps I find it specially difficult to answer the question on account of my money. Jesus never owned any property, and there is nothing in His example to guide me in the use of mine. I am study- ing and praying. I think I see clearly a part of what He would do, but not all. ' What would Jesus do with a million dollars?' is my question really. I confess that I am not yet able to answer it to my satisfaction." *' I could tell you what to do with a part of it," said Rachel, turning her face towards Virginia. "That does not trouble me," replied Virginia with a slight smile. *' What I am trying to discover is a principle of Jesus that will enable me to come the nearest possible to His action as it ought to influence the entire course of my life so far as my wealth and its use are concerned." ** That will take time," said Henry Maxwell slowly. All the rest of the room were thinking hard of the same thing. Milton Wright told something of his •'WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 51 ith a IS a l\v f^xperience. He was gradually working out a plan for his business relations with his employees, and it was opening up a new world to him and them. A few of the younger men told of special attempts to answer the question. There was almost general consent over the fact that the application of the Jesus spirit and practice to everyday life was the serious thing. It required a knowledge of Him, and an insight into His motives, that most of them did not yet possess. Wheii they finally adjourned, after a silent prayer that marked with growing power the Divine Presence, they went away discussing earnestly their difticulties and seeking light from one another. Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page went out together. Edward Norman and Milton Wright became so inter- ested in their mutual conference that they walked on past Norman's home and came back together. Jasper Chase and the President of the Endeavour Society stood talking earnestly in one corner of the room. Alexander Powers and Henry Maxwell remained even after all the others had gone. " I want you to come down to the shops to-morrow and sec my plan and talk to the men. Somehow I feel as if you could get nearer to them than anyone else just now." " I don't know about that, but I will come," replied Henry IMaxwell a little sadly. How was he fitted to stand before two or three liundred working men and give them n message ? Yet in the moment of his weakness, as he asked the question, he rebuked himself tor it. W^hat would Jesus do ? That was an end to the discussion. 52 IN HIS STEPS. He went down the next day, and found Alexander Powers in his office. It lacked a few minutes of twelve and the Superintendent said, " Come upstairs, and I'll show you what I've been trymg to do." They went through the machine shops, climbed a long flight of stairs, and entered a very large empty room. It had once been used by the company for a store room. " Since making that promise a week ago I have had a good many things to think of," srad the Superinten- dent, "and among them is this : Our company gives me the use of this room, and I am gomg to fit it up with tables and a coffee plant in the corner there where those steam pipes are. My plan is to provide a good place where the men can come up and eat their noon lunch, and give them, two or three times a week, the privilege of a fifteen minutes' talk on some subject that will be a real help to them in their lives." Maxwell looked surprised, and asked if the men would come for any spuch purpose. " Yes, they'll come. After all, I know the men pretty well. They are among the most intelligent working men in the country to-day. But they are, a? a whole, entirely removed from all church influence. I asked, ' What would Jesus do?' And among other things it seemed to me He would begin to act in some way to add to the lives of these men more physical and spiritual comfort. It is a very little thing, this room and what it represents, but I acted on the first impulse to do the first thing that appealed to my good sense, and I want to work out this idea. I want you to speak " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ?'* 53 men gent ', a? ncc. ther )me land )om ilse ise, teak to the men when they come up at noon. I have asked them to come up and see the place, and I'll tell them something about it." Henry Maxwell was ashamed to say how uneasy he felt at being asked to speak a few words to a company of working men. How could he speak without notes, or to such a crowd ? He was honestly in a condition of genuine fright over the prospect. He actually felt afraid of facing these men. He shrank from the ordeal of confronting such a crowd, so different from the Sunday audiences he was familifir with. There were half a dozen long rude tables and benches in the great room, and when the noon whistle sounded the men poured upstairs from the machine shop below, and, seating themselves at the tables, began to eat their lunch. There were, perhaps, three hundred of th»m. They had read the Superintendent's notice which he had posted up in various places, and came largely out of curiosity. They were favourably impressed. The room was large and airy, free from smoke and dust, and well warmed from the steam pipes. About twenty mmutes to one, Alexander Powers told the men what he had in mind. He spoke very simply, like one who understands thoroughly the character of his audience, and then introduced the Rev. Henry Maxwell, of the First Church, his pastor, who had con- sented to speak a few mmutes. Henry Maxwell will never forget the feelings with which for the first time he confronted that grimy-faced audience of working men. Like hundreids of othej , 54 IN HIS STEPS. ministers, ha had never spoken to any gathering except those made lip of people of liis own class in the sense that they were familiar, in their dress and education and habits, to him. This wa3 a new world to him, and nothing but his new rule of conduct could have made possible his message and its effect. He spoke on the subject of satisfaction with lite i what caused it ; what its real sources were. He had the great good sense on this first appearaiace not to recognise the men as a class distinct from himself. He did not use the term " working men," and did not say a word to suggest any differejice between their lives and his own. The men were pleased. A good many of them shook hands with him before going down to their work, and Henry Maxwell, teHingit all to his wife when he reached home, said that never in all his life had he known the delight he then felt in having a hand-shake from a man of physical labour. The day marked an important one in his Christian experience, more impor- tant than he knew. It was the beginning of a fellow- ship between him and the working world. It was the first plank laid down to help bridge the chasm between the Church and labour in Raymond. Alexander Powers went back to his desk that after- noon much pleased with his plan, and seeing much help in it for the men. He knew where he could get some good tables from an abandoned eating-house at one of the stations down the road, and he saw how the coffee arrangement could be made a very attractive feature. The men had responded even better than he •' WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 55 anticipated, and the whole thing could not help being a great benefit to them. He took up the routine of his work with a glow of satisfaction. After all, he wanted to dp as Jesus would, he said to himself. It was nearly four o'clock when he opened one of the company's long envelopf^s which he supposed con- tained orders for the purchasing of stores. He ran over the first page of type-written matter in his usual quick, business-like manner before he saw that he was reading what was not intended for his office, but for the Superintendent of the Freight Department. He turned over a page mechanically, not meaning to read what was not addressed to him, but, before he knew it, he w'as in possession of evidence which con- clusively proved that the company was engaged in a systematic violation of the Interstate Commerce Laws of the United States. It was as distinct and unequivo- cal breaking of law as if a private citizen should enter a house and rob the inmates. The discrimination shown in rebates was in total contempt of all the statute. Under the laws of the State it was also a distinct violation of certain provisions recently passed by the legislature to prevent railroad trusts. There was no question that he held in his hand evidence sufficient to convict the company of wilful, intelligent violation of the law of the Commission and the law of the State also. He dropped the papers on his desk as if they were poison, and instantly the question flashed across his mind, " What would Jesus do ? " He tried to shut the 56 IN HIS STEPS. question out. He tried to reason with himself by say- ing it was none of his business. He had supposed in a more or less indefinite way, as did nearly all the officers of the company, that this had been going on right along in nearly all the roads. He was not in a position, owing to his place in the shops, to prove anything direct, and he had regarded it all as a matter which did not concern him at all. The papers now before him revealed the entire affair. They had through some carelessness in the address come into his hands. What business of his was it ? If he saw a man entermg his neighbour's house to steal, would it not be his duty to inform the oflicers of the law ? Was a railroad company such a different thing, was it under a different rule of conduct so that it could rob the public and defy law and be undis- turbed because it was such a great organisation ? What would Jesus do ? Then there was his family. Of course if he took any steps to inform the Commis- sion it would mean the loss of his position. His wife and daughters had always enjoyed luxury and a good place in society. If he came out against this lawless- ness as a witness it would drag him into courts, his motives would be misunderstood and the whole thing would end in his disgrace and the loss of his position. Surely, it was none of his business. He could easily get the papers back to the Freight Department and no one be the wiser. Let the iniquity go on. Let the law be defied. What was it to him ? He would work out his plans for bettering the conditions just about him. What more could a man do in this railroad \1 tl ife ;s- "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO.-" 57 business, where there was so much going on any way that made it impossible to Hve by the Christian stan- dard ? But what would Jesus do if He knew the facts? That was the question that confronted Alexander Powers as the day wore into evening. The lights in the office had been turned on. The whirr of the great engine and the crash of the planer in the big shop continued until six o'clock. Then the whistle blew, the engines slowed down, the men dropped their tools and ran for the block house. Alexander Powers heard the familiar click, click, of the blocks as the men filed past the window of the block house just outside. He said to his clerks, " I'm not going just yet. I have something extra to-night." He waited until he heard the last man deposit his block. The men behind the block case went out. The engmeer and his assistants had work for half an hour, but they went out at another door. At seven o'clock that evening anyone who had looked into the Superintendent's office would have seen an unusual sight. He was kneel ini^ down, and his face was buried in his hands as he bowed his head upon the papers ua his desk. CHAPTER III. If any man cometh unto Mc and hatcth not liis own father and niollicr and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple. . . . And whosoever forsaketh not all he hath, he- cannot be My disciple. WHEN Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page separated after the meeting at the First Church on Sunday, they agreed to continue their conversation the next day. Virginia asked Rachel to come and lunch with her at noon, and Rachel accordingly rang the bell at the Page mansion about half-past eleven. Virginia herself met her, and the two were soon talking earnestly. **The fact is," Rachel was saying, after they had been talking a few minutes, " I cannot reconcile it with my judgment of what He would do. I cannot tell another person what to do, bat I feel that I ought not to accept this offer." "What will you do, then?" asked Virginia with great interest. " I don't know yet. But I have decided to refuse this offer." Rachel picked up a letter that had been lying in her lap and ran over its contents again. It was a letter \ >> "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ." ' 59 from the manai^er of a comic opera offering her a place with a large travelhng company for the season. The salary was a very large hgure, and the prospect held out by the manager was flattering. He had heard Rachel sing that Sunday morning when the stranger had interrupted the service. He had been much nnpressed. There was money in that voice, and )i ought to be used in comic opera, so said the letter, and the manager wanted a reply as soon as possible. " There's no virtue in saymg * No ' to this offer when 1 have the other one," Rachel went on thoughtfully. ''That's harder to decide. But I've made up my mind. To tell the truth, Virgmia, I'm completely convinced in the first case that Jesus would never use any talent like a good voice just to make money. But now take this concert offer. Here is ?, reputable company to travel with an mipersonator ;ind a violinist and a male quartette. All people oi good reputation. I'm asked to go as one of the company and sing leading soprano. The salary— I mentioned it, didn't I ? — is to be guaranteed two hundred dollars a month for the season. But I don't feel satisfied that Jesus would go. What do you think ? " " Vou mustn't ask me to decide for you," replied Virginia W'ith a sad smile. " I believe Mr. Maxwell was right when he said we must each one of us decide according to the judgment we felt for ourselves to be Christlike. I am having a harder time than you are. dear, to decide what He would do." " Are you ? " Rachel asked. She rose and walked over to the window and looked out, Virginia came 6o IN HIS STEPS. and stood by her. The street was crowded with life, and the two young women looked at it silently lor a moment. Suddenly Virginia broke out as Rachel had never heard her before. "Rachel, what does all this contrast In conditions mean to you as you ask this question of what Jesus would do ? It maddens me to think that the society in which I have been brought up, the same to which we are both said to belong, is satisfied year after year to go on dressing and eating and having a good time, giving and receiving entertainments, spending its money on houses and luxuries, and, occasionally, to ease its conscience, donating, without any personal sacrifice, a little money to charity. 1 have been edu- cated, as you have, in one of the most expensive schools in America. Launched into society as an heiress. Supposed to be in a very enviable position. I'm perfectly well, I can travel or stay at home. I can do as I please. I can gratify almost any want or desire, and yet, when I honestly try to imagine Jesus living the life I have lived, and am expected to live, and doing for the rest of my life what thousands of other rich people do, I am under condemnation for being one of the most wicked, selfish, useless creatures in the world. I have not looked out of f^iis^ mdovv tor weeks without a feeling of horror tow .lyself as ^ 'ee the humanity that pours by this house Virginia turned away ana w iked up and down the room. Rachel watched her, and could not re ress the rising tide of her own growing definition of disciple- ship. Of what Christian use was her own talent of »ing ich of Irld. lout lily Ithe Ithe )le- i " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 61 song ? Was the best she could do to sell her talent for so much a month, go on a concert company's tour, dress beautifully, enjoy the excitement of public applause, and gain a reputation as a great singer? Was that what Jesus would do ? She was not morbid. She was in sound health, was conscious of great powers as a singer, and knew that if she went out into public life she could make a great deal of money and become well known. It is doubtful if she overestimated her ability to accomplish all she thought herself capable of. And Virginia — what she had just said smote Rachel with great force because of the similar position in which the two friends found themselves. Lunch was announced, and they went out and were joined by Virginia's grandmother. Madam Page, a handsome, stately woman of sixty-five, and Virginia's brother, Rollin, a young man who spent most of his time at one of the clubs, and had no particular ambition for anything, but a growing admiration for Rachel Winslow, and whenever she dined or lunched at the Page mansion, if he knew of it, he always planned to b: at home. These three made up the Page family. Virginia's father had been a banker and grain speculator. Her mother had died ten years before. Her father within the past year. The grandmother, a Southern woman m birth and training, had all the traditions and feelings that accompany the possession of wealth and social standing that have never been disturbed. She was a shrewd, careful business woman of more than 62 IN HIS STEPS. average ability. The family property and wealth were invested in large measure under her personal care. Virgmia's portion was, without any restriction, her own. She had been trained by her father to understand the ways of the business world, and even the grandmother had been compelled to acknowledge the girl's capacity for taking care of her own money. Perhaps two persons could not be found anywhere less capable of understanding a girl like Virginia than Madam Page and Rollin. Rachel, who had known the family since she was a girl playmate of Virginia's, could not help thinking of what confronted Virginia in her own house when she once decided on the course which she honestly believed Jesus would take. To-day at lunch, as she recalled Virginia's outbreak in the front room, she tried to picture the scene that would at some time occur between Madam Page and her granddaughter. *' I understand that you are going on the stage. Miss Winslow. We shall all be delighted, I'm sure," said Rollin, during one of the pauses in the conversation, which had not been animated. Rachel coloured and felt annoyed. *'Who told you?" she asked, while Virginia, who had been very silent and reserved, suddenly roused herself and appeared ready to join in the talk. " Oh ! we hear a thing or two on the street. Besides, everyone saw Crandall, the manager, at church two weeks ago. He doesn't go to church to hear the preaching. In fact, I know other people who don't either, not when there's something better to hear." \ ides, two '' VVHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 63 Rachel did not colour this time, but she answered quietly : " You're mistaken. I'm not going on the stage." '* It's a great pity. You'd make a hit. Everybody IS talking about your singing." This time Rachel flushed with genuine anger. Before she could say anything, Virginia broke in : *• Whom do you mean by ' everybody ' ? " " Whom ? ' I mean all the people who hear Miss Winslow on Sunday. What other time do they hear her ? It's a great pity, 1 say, that the general public outside of Raymond cannot hear her voice." " Let us talk about something else," said Rachel a little sharply. Madam Page glanced at her and spoke with a gentle courtesy. " My dear, Rolhn never could pay an indirect com- pliment. He is like his father in that. But we are all curious to know something of your plans. W^e claim the right from old acquaintance, you know. And Virginia had already told us of your concert company offer." *' I supposed, of course, that was public property," said Virginia, smiling across the table. " It was in The Kcivs yesterday." "Yes, yes," replied Rachel hastily. "I understand that. Madam Page. Well, Virginia and I have been talking about it. i have decided not to accept, and that is as far as I have gone yet." Rachel was conscious of the fact that the conversa- tion had, up to this point, been narrowing her hesi- tation concerning the company's ofier down to a 64 IN HIS STEPS. decision that would absolutely satisfy her own judg- ment of Jesus' probable action. It had been the last thing in the world, however, that she had desired to have her decision made in any way so public as this. Somehow, what Rollin Page had said, and his manner in saying it, had hastened her judgment in the matter. "Would you mind telling us, Rachael, your reasons for refusing the offer ? It looks like a good oppor- tunity for a young girl like you. Don't you think the general public ought to hear you ? I feel like Rollin about that. A voice like yours belongs to a larger audience than Raymond and the First Church," Rachel Winslow was naturally a girl of great reserve. She shrank from making her plans or her thoughts public. But with all her repression there Vv'as possible in her an occasional sudden breaking out that was simply an impulsive, thoughtful, frank, truthful expression of her most inner personal feeling. She spoke now in reply to Madam Page in one of those rare moments of unreserve that added to the attractive- ness of her whole character. " I have no other peason than a conviction that Jesus would do the same thing," she said, looking in Madam Page's eyes with a clear earnest gaze. Madam Page turned red and Rollin stared. Before her grandmother could say anything, Virginia spoke. Her rising colour showed how she was stirred. Virginia's pale, clear complexion was that of health, but it was generally in marked contrast to Rachel's tropical type of beauty. ** Grandmother, you know we promised to make that " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 65 Jesus ladam ieforc (poke, lirred. I, but epical that the standard of our conduct for a year. Mr. Maxwell's proposition was plain to all who heard it. We have not been able to arrive at our decisions very rapidly. The difficulty in knowing what Jesus would do has per- plexed Rachel and me a good deal." Madam Page looked sharply at Virginia before she said anything. " Of course, I understand Mr. Maxwell's statement, ll is perfectly impracticable to put into practice. I felt confideat at the time that those who promised would find it out after a trial, and abandon it as visionary and absurd. I have nothing to say about Miss Winslow's affairs, but " (she paused and continued with a sharp- ness that was new to Rachel) " I hope you have no foolish notions in this matter, V^irginia." " I have a great many notions," replied Virginia quietly. " Whether they are foolish or not depends upon my right understanding of what He would do* As soon as I find out, I shall do it." " Excuse me, ladies," said Rollin, rising from the table. " The conversation is getting beyond my depth, I shall retire to Ihe library for a cigar." He went out of the dining-room and there was silence for a moment. Madam Page waited until the servant had brought in something and then asked her to go out. She was angry, and her anger was formid- able, although checked in some measure by the presence of Rachel. " I am older by several years than you, young ladic^,* she said, and her traditional type of bearing seemed ta Rachel to rise up like a great frozen wall between hec 66 IN HIS STEPS. and every conception of Jesus as a sacrifice. " What you have promised in a spirit of false emotion, I pre- sume, is impossible of performance." " Do you mean, grandmother, that we cannot possibly act as Jesus would, or do you mean that if we try to, we shall offend the customs and prejudices of society ? " asked Virginia. " It is not required I It is not necessary ! Besides, how can you act with any " Madam Page paused, broke off her sentence, and then turned to Rachel. " What will your mother say to your decision ? My dear, is it not foolish ? What do you expect to do with your voice, any way ? " " I don't know what mother will say yet," Rachel answered, with a great shrinking from trying to give her mother's probable answer. If there was a woman in all Raymond with great ambitions for her daughter's success as a singer, Mrs. Winslow was that woman. *' Oh, you will see it in a different light after wise thought of it. My dear," continued Madam Page, rising from the table, " you will live to regret it if you do not accept the concert company's offer or some- thing like it." Rachel said something that contained a hint of the struggle she was still having. And after a little she went away, feeling that her departure was to be followed by a painful conversation between Virginia and her grandmother. As she afterward learned Virginia passed through a crisis of feeling during that scene with her grandmother that hastened her final decision as to the .use of her money and her social position. t{ WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" ^7 the she )\vecl her ssed her the Rachel was glad to escape and be by herself. A plan was slowly forming in her mind, and she wanted to be -alone to think it out carefully. But before she had walked two blocks she was annoyed to find Rollin Page walking beside her. "Sorry to disturb your thought, Miss Winslow, but I happened to be going your way and had an idea you might not object. In fact I've been walking here for a whole block and you haven't objected." " I did not see you," replied Rachel. " I wouldn't mind that if you only thought of me once in a while," said Rollin suddenly. He took one last nervous puff of his cigar, tossed it into the street, and walked along with a pale face. Rachel was surprised, but not startled. She had known Rollin as a boy, and there had been a time when they liad used each other's Grst names familiarly. Lately, however, something in Rachel's manner had put an end to that. She was used to his direct attempts at compliment, and was sometimes amused by them. To-day she honestly wished him anywhere else. "Do you ever think of me, Miss Winslow ?" asked Rollin, after a pause. *' Oh, yes, quite often," said Rachel with a smile, "Are you thinking of me now ? " " Yes, that is — yes, I am." "What?" " Do you want me to be absolutely truthful ?" "Of course." " Then I was thinking that I wished you were not here." 68 IN J^;S STEPS. Rollin bit his lip and looked gloomy. Rachel had not spoken anything as he wished. "Now, look here, Rachel — Oh, I know that's forbidden — but I've got to speak some time ; you know how I feel. What makes you treat me so hard ? You used to like me a little, you know." " Did I ? Of course we used to get on very well as boy and girl. But we are older now." Rachel still spoke in the light, easy way she had used since her first annoyance at seeing him. She was still somewhat preoccupied with her plan which had been disturbed by Rollin's appearance. They walked along in silence a little way. The avenue was lull of people. Among the persons passing was Jasper Chase. He saw Rachel and Rollin, and bowed as he went by. Rollin was watching Rachel closely. " I wish I were Jasper Chase ; maybe I'd stand some show then," he said moodily. Rachel coloured in spite of herself. She did not say anything, and quickened her pace a little. Rollin seemed determined to say something, and Rachel seemed helpless to prevent him. After all, she thought, he might as well know the truth one time as another. " You know well enough, Rachel, how I feel towards you. Isn't there any hope ? I could make you happy. I've loved you a good many years " "Why, how old do you think I am?" broke in Rachel with a nervous laugh. She was shaken out of her usual poise of manner. " Y(Mi know what I mean," went on Rollin, doggedly. say ollin ichcl ght, er. ards ppy. ill It of dly. " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 69 " And you had no right to laugh at me just because 1 want you to marry me." " I'm not ! But it is useless for you to speak — Rollin," said Rachel, after a little hesitation, and then using his name in such a frank, simple way that he could attach no meaning to it beyond the familiarity of the family acquaintance. " It is impossible." She was still a little agitated by the fact of receiving a proposal of marriage on the avenue. But the noise on the street and sidewalk made the conversation as private as if they were in the house. "Would you — that is — do you think — if you gave me time I would " " No ! " said Rachel. Sue spoke firmly ; perhaps, she thought afterwards, although she did not mean to, she spoke harshly. They walked on for some time without a word.' They were nearing Rachel's home, and she was anxious '. to end the scene. As they turned off the avenue into one of the quiet streets, RoUin spoke suddenly, and with more manli- ness than he had yet shown. There was a distinct note of dignity in his voice, that was new to Rachel. " Miss Winslow, I ask you to be my wife. Is there any hope for me that you will ever consent ? " " None in the least." Rachel spoke decidedly. " Will you tell me why ? " He asked the question as if he had a right to a truthful answer. " I do not feel towzu-ds you as a woman ought to feel towards the man she intends to marry*" " In other words, you do not love me ? '* 70 IN HIS STEPS. " I do not. And I cannot." ** Why ? " That was another question, and Rachel was a httle surprised that he should ask it. " Because — " She hesitated, for fear she might say too much in an attempt to speak the exact truth. " Tell me just why. You can't hurt me more than you have already." *' Well, I don't and can't love you, because you have no purpose in life. W^hat do you ever do to make the world better ? You spend your time in club life, in amusements, in travel, in luxury. What is there io such a life to attract a woman ? " " Not much, I guess," said Rollin, with a little laugh. " Still, I don't know that I am any worse than the rest of the men around me. I'm not so bad as some. Glad to know your reason." He suddenly stopped, took off his h, ', bowed gravely, and turned back. Rachel went on home, and hurried into her room, disturbed in many ways by the event which had so unexpectedly thrust itself into her experience-. When she had time to think it all over, she found herself condemned by the very judgment she had passed on Rollin Page. What purpose had she in life ? She had been abroad, and studied music with one of the famous teachers of Europe. She had come home to Raymond, and had been singing in the First Church choir now for a year. She was well paid. Up to that Sunday two weeks ago she had been quite satisfied with herself and her position. She had shared her mother's ambition, and anticipated growing )wed and the her )und had e in .vith had the )aid. uite red ins '' WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 71 triumphs in the musical world. What possible career was before her, except the regular career of every singer ? She asked the question again, and, in the light of her recent reply to Rollin, asked again if she had any very great purpose in life herself ? WMiat would Jesus do ? There was a fortune in her voice. She knew it, not necessarily as a matter of personal pride or professional egotism, but simply as a fact. And she was obliged to acknowledge that until two weeks ago she had purposed to use her voice to make money and win admiration and applause. Was that a much higher purpose after all than Rollin Page lived for ? She sat in her room a long time, and finally went downstairs, resolved to have a frank talk with her mother about the concert company's offer, and her new plan which was gradually shaping in her mind. She had already had one talk with her mother, and knew that she expected Rachel to accept the offer, and enter on a successful career as a public singer. " Mother," Rachel said, coming at once to the point, much as she dreaded the interview, " I have decided not to go out with the company. I have a good reason for it." Mrs. Winslow was a large, handsome woman, fond of much company, ambitious for a distinct place in society, and devoted, according to her definitions of success, to the success of her children. Her youngest boy, Lewis, ten years younger than Rachel, was ready to graduate from a military academy in the summer. Meanwhile, she and Rachel were at home to.i;ethcr. 72 IN HIS STEPS. Rachel's father, like Virginia's, had died while the family were abroad. Like Virginia she found her- self, under her present rule of conduct, in complete antagonism with her own immediate home circle, Mrs. Winslow waited for Rachel to go on. "You know the promise I made two weeks ago, mother ? " " Mr. Maxwell's promise ? " "- " No, mine. You know what it was, mother ? " " I suppose I do. Of course all the church members mean to imitate Christ, and follow Him as far as is consistent with our present-day surroundings. But what has that to do with your decision in the concert company's matter ? " " It has everything to dp with it. After asking, * What would Jesus do ? ' and going to the source of authority for wisdom, I have been obliged to say that I do not believe He would, in my case, make that use of my voice." "Why? Is there anything wrong about such a career ?" " No, I don't know that I can say there is." " Do you presume to sit in judgment on other people who go out to sing in this way? Do you presume to say that they are doing what Christ would not do ? " " Mother, I wish you to understand me. I judge no one else. I condemn no other professional singers. I simply decide my own course. As I look at it, I have a conviction that Jesus would do something, else." "What else ? " xMrs. Winslow had not yet lost her say that h a ther no I ^ave her i 1 " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 73 temper. She did not understand the situation, nor Rachel in the midst of it, but she was anxious that her daugliter's career should be as distinguished as her natural gifts promised. And she felt confident that, when the present unusual religious excitement in the First Church had passed away, Rachel would go on with her public life according to the wishes of the family. She was totally unprepared for Rachel's next remark. " What ? Something that will serve mankind where it tnost needs the service of song. Mother, I have made up my mind to use my voice in some way so as to satisfy my own soul that I am doing something better than please fashionable audiences or make money, or even gratify my own love of singing. I am going to do something that will satisfy me when I ask, * What would Jesus do ? ' And I am not satisfied, and cannot be, when I think of myself as singing myself into the career of a concert company performer." Rachel spoke with a vigour and earnestness that sur- prised her mother. Mrs. W^inslow was angry now. And she never tried to conceal her feelings. " It is simply absurd ! Rachel, you are a fanatic. What can you do ? " " The world has been served by men and women who have given it other things that were gifts. Why should I, because I am blessed with a natural gift, at once proceed to put a market price on it and make all the money I can out of it ? You know, mother, that you have taught me to think of a musical career always in the light of a financial and social success. I have 74 IN HIS STEPS. been unable, since I made my promise, two weeks ago, to imagine Jesus joining a concert company to do what I would do, and live the life I would have to live if I joined it." Mrs. Winslow rose, and then sat down again. With a great effort she composed herself. " What do you intend to do, then ? You have not answered niy question." " I shall continue to sing for the time being in the church. 1 am pledged to sing there through spring. During the week I am going to sing at the White Cross meetings down in the Rectangle." " What ! Rachel Winslow 1 Do you know what you are saying ? Do you know what sort of people those are down there ? " Rachel almost quailed before her mother. For a moment she shrank back and was silent. " I know very well. That is the reason I am going. Mr. and Mrs. Gray have been working there several weeks. I learned only this morning that they wanted singers from the churches to help them in their meet- ings. They use a tent. It is in a part of the city where Christian work is most needed. I shall offer them my help. Mother ! " Rachel cried out with the first passionate utterance she had yet used, " I want to do something that will cost me something in the way of sacrilice. I know you will not understand me. But I am hungry to suffer something. What have we done all our lives for the suffering, sinning side of Raymond ? How much have w^e denied ourselves or given of our personal ease and pleasure to bless the. "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 75 place in which we hve, or imitate the life of the Saviour of the world ? Are we always to go on doing as society selfishly dictates, moving on its narrow little round of pleasures and entertainments, and never knowing the pain of things that cost ?" "Are you preaching at me?" asked Mrs. Winslow slowly. Rachel understood her mother's words. " No, I am preaching at myself," she replied gently. She paused a moment as if she thought her mother would say something more, and t'len went out of the room. When she reached her own room she felt that, so far as her mother was concerned, she could expect no sympathy or even a fair understanding from her. She kneeled down. It is safe to say that within the two weeks since Henry Maxwell's church had faced that shabby figure with the faded hat, more members of his parish had been driven to their knees in prayer than during all the previous term of his pastorate. When she rose, her beautiful face was wet with tears. She sat thoughtfully a little while and then wrote a note to Virginia Page. She sent it to her by a messenger, and then went downstairs again, and told her mother that she and Virginia were going down to the Rectangle that evening to see Mr. and Mrs. Gray, the evangelists. "Virginia's uncle. Dr. West, will go with us if she goes. 1 have asked her to call him up by telephone and go with us. The Doctor is a friend of the Grays, and attended some of the meetings last winter." Mrs. Wmslow did not say anything. Her manner showed her complete disapproval of Rachel's course, and Rachel felt her unspoken bitterness, 76 INf HJS STEPS. Abou]: seven o'clock the Doctor and Virginia ap- peared, and together the three started for the scene of the White Cross meetings. The Rectangle was the most notorious district in all Raymond. It was in the territory close by the great railway shops and the packing houses. The slum and tenement district of Raymond congested its mo.^t wretched elements about the Rectangle. This was a barren field used in the summer by circus companies and wandering sJiowmen. It was shut in by rows of saloons, gambling hells, and cheap, dirty boarding and lodging houses. The First Church of Raymond had never touched the Rectangle problem. It was too dirty, too coarse, too sinful, too awful for close contact. Cet us be honest. There had been an attempt to cleanse this sore spot by sending down an occasional committee of singefs, of Sunday-school teachers, or gospel visitors from various churches. But the church of Raymond as an institution had never really done anything to make the Rectangle any less a stronghold of the dev'l as the years went by. Into this heart of the coarse part of the sin of Ray- mond, the travelling evangelist and his brave little witc had pitched a good-sized tent and begun meetings. It was the spring of the year, and the evenings were be- ginning to be pleasant. The evangelist had asked for the help of Chiristian people and had received more than the usual amount of encouragement. But they felt a great need of more and better music. During the meetings on the Sunday just gone, the assistant at the Kay- b vviic L It le be- Id for Ihun lelt a llie U the i " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 77 organ had been taken ill. Tlic volunteers from the city were few and the voices of ordinary equality. " There will be a small meeting to-night, John," said his wife, as they entered the tent a little a'fter seven o'clock and began to arrange the chairs and light up. " Yes, I think so." Mr. Gray was a small eneri;etic man with a pleasant voice and the courage of a high- born fighter. He l;ad already made friends in *he neighbourhood, and one of his converts, a heavy-faced man, who had just come in, began to help in the ar- rangement of the searts. It was after eiglit o'clock when Alexander Powers opened the door of his office and started to go home. He was going to take a car at the corner of the Rect- angle. But as he neared it he was roused by a voice coming from the tent. It was tiie voice of Rachql Winslow. It struck through his consciousness of struggle over his own r.iips ion that had sent him into the Divine presence lor an answer. He had not yet reached a conclusion. He was troubled with uncertainty. His whole previous course of action as a railroad man was the poorest possible preparation for anything sacrificial. And he cojuld not yet say what he would do in the matter. Hark 1 What was she singing ? How did Kacliel Winslow happen to be down here ? Several windows near by went upc Some men quarrelling in a saloon stopped and listened. Other figures were walking rapidly in the direction of the P.ectangle and the tent. Surely Rachel Winslow never was happier in her life. She never had sung like that in the First Church. 78 IN HIS STEPS. It was a marvellous voice. What was it she was singing ? Again Alexander Powers, Superintendent of the machine shops, paused and listened. Where He leads me I will follow, Where He leads me I will follow, Where He leads me I will follow, I'll go with Him, with Him, All the way. The brutal, stolid, coarse, rnipure life of the Rectangle stirred itself into new life, as the song, as pure as the surroundings were vile, floated out into saloon and den and foul lodging. Someone stumbhng hastily by Alexander Powers said in ai bwer to a question : " The tent's beginning to run over to-night. That's what the talent calls music, eh ? " The Superintendent turned towards the tent, Then he stopped, And after a moment of mdecision he went on to the corner and took the car inr his home. But before he was out of the sound of Rachel's voice he knew that he had settled for himself the question of ^ what Jesus would do. I the CHAPTER IV. If any man would come after Me, ict him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. H ENRY MAXWELL paced his study back and forth. It was Wednesday, and he had started to think out the subject of his evening service, which fell upon that night. Out of one of his study windows he could see the tall chimneys of the railroad shops. The top of the evangelist's tent just showed over the buildings around the Rectangle. The pastor of the First Church looked out of this window every time he turned in his walk. After a while he sat down at his desk and drew a large piece of paper towards him. After thinking several moments he wrote in large letters the following : — A NUMBER OF THINGS THAT JKSUS WOULD PROBABLY DO IN THIS PARISH. (i) Live in a simple, plain manner, without needless luxury on the one hand, or undue asceticism on the other. (2) Preach fearlessly to the hypocrites in the church, no matter what their social importance or wealth. (3) Show in some practical form sympathy and love for the F 8o IN HIS STEPS. common people, as well as for the well-to-do, educated, refined people, who make up the majority of the church and parish. (4) Identify Himself with the great causes of Humanity in some personal way that would call for self-deninl and suffering. (5) Preach against the saloon in Raymond. (6) Become known as a friend and companion of the sinful people in fhe Rectangle. (7) Give up the summer trip to Europe tins year. (I have been abroad twice, and cannot claim any special need of rest. I am well, and could forego this pleasure, using the money for some one who needs a vacation more than I do. There are probably plenty of such people in this citj'.) (8) What else would Jesus do as Henry Maxwell ? He was conscious, with a humility that once was a stranger to him, that his outUne of Jesus' probable action was painfully lacking in depth and power, but he was seeking carefully for concrete shapes into which lie might cast his thought oi Jesus' conduct. Nearly every point he had put down, meant, for him, a com- plete overturning of the custom and habit of years in the ministry. In spite of that, he still searched deeper for sources of the Christlike spirit. He did not attempt to write any more, but sat at his desk absorbed in his attempt I< catch more and more of the spirit of Jesus in his own life. He had forgotten the particular subject for his prayer-meeting with which he had begun his morning study. He was so absorbed over his thought that he did not hear the bell ring, and he was roused by the servant who announced a caller. He had sent up his name, Mr. Gray. Maxwell stepped to the head of the stairs and asked Gray to come up. I ^' We SoG "I w •you ha Monday more w hold the " I've there ha "It h most en( ask if yo I am sui trust my from sue freely, ar " I'm s( said Hen: shall be ihw-n. ^ Gray th " Won'i prayer to, " Yes,"" So the Maxwell tears as altnost pi ministerial begged foi tlie people ''WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 8r \ " We can talk better up here." So Gray came up and stated the reason for his call. " I want you, Mr. Maxwell, to help me. Of course you have heard what a wonderful meeting we had Monday night and last night. Miss Winslow has done more with her voice than I could, and the tent won't hold the people." " I've heard of that. It's the first time the people there have heard her. It's no wonder they are attracted." " It has been a wonderful revelation to us, and a most encouraging event in our work. But I came to ask if you could not come down to-night and preach. 1 am suffering with a severe cold. I do not dare to trust my voice again. I know it is asking a good deal from such a busy man. But if you can't come, say so freely, and I'll try somewhere else." " I'm sorry, but it's my regular prayer-meeting night," said Henry Maxwell. Then he flushed and added, " I shall be able to arrange it in some way so as to come down. You can count on me." Gray thanked him earnestly and rose to go. "Won't you stay a minute. Gray, and let us have a prayer together ? " " Yes," said Gray, simply. So the two men kneeled together in the study. Mr. Maxwell prayed like a child. Gray w.is touciied to tears as he kneeled there. There was something almost pitiful in the way this man, who had lived his ministerial life in such a narrow limit of exercise, now begged for wisdom and strength to speak a message to the people in the Rectangle. 82 IN HIS STEPS. Gray rose and held out his hand. • . ■ • *' God bless you, Mr. Maxwell. I'm sure the Spirit will give you power to-night." Henry Maxwell made no answer. He did not even trust himself to say that he hoped so. But he thought of his promise, and it brought a certain peace that was refreshing to his heart and mind alike. So that is how it came about that when the First Cliurch audience came into the lecture-room that evening it was met with another surprise. There was an unusually large number present. The prayer-meetings ever since that remarkable Sunday morning, had been attended as never before in the history of the First Church. Henry Maxwell came at once to the point. He spoke of Gray's work and of his request. " I feel as if I were called to go down there to-night, and I wuU leave it with you to say whether you will go on with the meeting here. I think perhaps the best plan would be for a few volunteers to go down to the Rectangle with me prepared to help in the after- meeting, and the rest remain here and pray that the Spirit's power may go with us." So half a dozen of the men went with Henry Maxwell, and the rest of the audience stayed in the lecture-room. Maxwell could not escape the thought as he left the room that probably in his entire church membership there might not be found a score of disciples who were capable of doing work that would successfully lead needy, sinful men into the knowledge of Christ. The thought did not linger in his mind to WHAT WOULD JESUS DO t} 83 Spirit : even lought at was I First n that , The kinday in the t. He night, A'iil go le best to the after- lat the Henry in the hought church ore of would wledge Liind to vex him as lie went on his way, but it was simply a part of his whole option of the meaning of new coi Christian discipleship. When he and liis little company of volunteers reached the Rectangle, the tent was already crowded. They had difficulty in getting to the little platform. Rachel was there, with Virginia and Jasper Chase, who had come instead of the Doctor to-night. When the meeting began with a song in which Rachel sang the solo and the people were asked to join in the chorus, not a foot of standing-room was left in the tent. The night was mild, and the sides of the tent were up ajid a great border of faces stretched around, looking in and forming part of the audience. After the singing, and a prayer by one of the city pastors who was present. Gray stated the reasons for his inability to speak, and m his simple manner turned the service over to " Brother Maxwell of the First Church." " Who's de bloke ? " asked a hoarse voice near the outside of the tent. " De Fust Church parson. We've got de whole high tone swell outfit to-night." •' Did you say Fust Church ? I know him. My landlord has got a front pew up there," said another voice, and there was a laugh, for the speaker was a saloon keeper. ''Trow out de hfe line 'cross de dark wave !" began a drunken man near by, singing in such an unconscious imitation of a local travelling singer's nasal tone that roars of laughter and jeers of approval rose around 84 IX HIS STEPS. him. The people in the tent turned in the direction of the disturbance. There were shouts of "Put him out !" "Give the Fust Church a chance !" "Song ! Song I Give us another song ?" Henry Maxwell stood up, and a great wave of actual terror went over him. This was not like preaching to the well-dressed, respectable, good-mannered people on the boulevard. He began to speak, but the confusion increased. Gray went down into the crowd, but did not seem able to quiet it. Henry MaxuxU raised his arm and his voice. The crowd in the tent began to pay some attention, but the noise on the outside increased. In a few minutes the audience was beyond Maxwell's control. He turned to Rachel with a sad smile. " Sing something. Miss Winslow. They will listen to you," he said, and then satdown and put his face in his hands. It was Rachel's opportunity, and she was fully equal to it. Virginia was at the organ, and Rachel asked her to play a few notes of the hymn. Saviour, I follow on, Guided by Thee, Seeing not yet the hand That leadeth nie ; Hushed be my heart and still, Fear I no farther ill, Only to meet Thy will, My will shall be. Rachel had not sung the first line before the people in the tent were all turned towards her, hushed and reverent. Before she had fmished the verse the Rect- angle was subdued and tamed. It lay like some wild I * n "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 8S it beast at her feet, and she sang it into harmlcssness. Ah ! What were the flippant, perfumed, critical audiences in concert halls compared with this dirty, drunken, impure, degraded, besotted humanity, tliat trembled and wept, and grew strangely, sadly, thought- ful, under the touch of the divine ministry of this beautiful young woman ? Henry Maxwell, as he raised his head, and saw the transformed mob, had a glimpse of something that Jesus would probably do with a voice like Rachel Winslow's. Jasper Chase sat with his eyes on the singer, and his greatest longing as an ambitious author was swallowed up in the thought of what Rachel Winslow's love might sometime mean to him. And over in the shadow, outside, stood the last person any- one might have expected to see at a Gospel tent service — Rollin Page, who, jostled on every side by rough men and women who stared at the swell in the line clothes, seemed careless of his surroundings, and at the same time evidently swayed by the power that Rachel possessed. He had just come over from the club. Neither Rachel nor Virginia saw him that night. The song was over. Henry Maxwell rose again. This time he felt calm. What would Jesus do ? He spoke as he thought once he never could. Who were these people ? They were immortal souls. What was Christianity ? A calling of sinners, not the righteous, to repentance. How would Jesus speak*? What would He say ? He could not tell all that his message would include, but he felt sure of a part of it. And in that certainty he spoke on. Never before had he felt *' compassion for the multitude." W'hat had the multi- 86 IN HIS STEPS. tilde been to him during his ten years in the First Church, but a va^ue, dangerous, dirty, troublesome factor in society, outside of the church and his reach^ an eLement that caused him, occasionally, an unpleasant feelijig of conscience ; a factor in Raymond that was talked about at associations as the " masses," in papers written by the brethren in#attempts to show why the " masses" were not being reached. But to-night, as he facjed the ** masses," he asked himself whether, after all, this was not just about such a multitude as Jesus fiaced oftenest, and he felt the genuine emotion of love for a crowd which is one of the best indications a preacher ever has that he is living close to the heart of the world's eternal Life. It is easy to love an individual sinner, especially if he is personally picturesque, or interesting. To love a multitude of sinners is dis- tinctly a Christlike quality. When tho meeting closed, there was no special interest shown. The people rapidly melted away from the tent, and the saloons, which had been experiencing a dull season while the meetings progressed, again drove a thri^ mg trade. The Rectangle, as if to make up for lost time, started in with vigour on its usual night- life of debauch. Henry Maxwell and his little party, including Virginia, Rachel, and Jasper Chase, walked down past the row of saloons and dens, until they reached the corner where the cars passed. ''This is a terrible spot," said Henry Maxwell, as they s-lood waiting for their car. " I never realised that Raymond had such a festering sore. It does not seem possible that this is a city full of Christian disciples." . "WHAT WOULD JICSUS DO?" 87 im He paused and then continued : " Do you think anyone can ever remove this great; curse of the saloon ? Why don't we all act together against the trailic ? What would Jesus do ? Would He keep silent? Would He vote to license these causes of crime and death ? " Henry Maxwell was talking to himself more than to the others. He remembered that he had always voted for licence, and so had nearly all of his church mem- bers. What would Jesus do ? Could he answer that question ? Would Jesus preach and act against the saloon, if he lived to-day ? How would He preach and act ? Suppose it was not popular to preach against licence ? Suppose the Christian people thought it was all that could be done, to license the evil, and so get revenue from a necessary sin ? Or suppose the church members owned property where the saloon stood — what then ? He knew that tliese were the facts in Raymond. W^hat would Jesus do ? He went up into his study the next morning, with that question only partly answered. He thought of it all day. He was still thiiiking of it, and reaching cer- tain real conclusions, when The Evening Xeics came. His wife brought it up, and sat down a few minutes while he read it to her. The Evening News was at present the most sensa- tional paper in Raymond. That is to say, it was being edited in such a remarkable fashion that its subscribers had never been so excited over a newspaper before. First, they had noticed the absence of the prize fight, and gradually it began to dawn upon them that The % "»,% W ^' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ;/j ^. 88 IN HIS STEPS. Nciii no longer printed accounts of crime with detailed descriptions, or scandals m private li(e. Then they noticed that the advertisements of liquor and tobacco were being dropjxd, together wilh certain other advertisements of a questionable character. Tiie dis- continuance of the Sunday pap?r caused the greatest comment oi all, and now the character of the editor lai; was creating the greatest excitement. A quotation from the Monday paper of this week will show what Edward Norman was doing to keep his promise. The editorial was headed — , THE MORAL SIDE OF POLITICAL QUESTION'S. The editor of Tlii A'tui has always advocated the principles of the great poHtical patty at present in power, and lias, Iheretore, discussed all political qucstjons from a standpoint of expediency, or ot belief in the party, as opposed to other oiganisations. Herenftc'-, to be perfectly honest with all our readers, the editor will pi esent and discuss political questions from the standpoint of right and wrong. In other words, the fust question will not bo, " Is it in the interest of our party ?" or " Is it according to the principles laid down by the party?" but the question fust asked will be, " Is this measure in accordance with the spirit and teachings of Jesus, as the Author of the greatest standard of liic known to men ?" That is, to be perfectly plain, the moral side of every political question will be considered its most important side, and the ground will be distinctly taken, that nations, as vfell as individuals, are under the same law, to do all Ihings to Ihe glory oi God, as the first rule of action. The same principle will be observed in this office towards candidates lor places of responsibility and trust in the Republic. Kcgai^lless of party politics, the editor of The A'tit'i will do all in his power to biing the be^ri men into power, and will not, knowingly, help to support for office any candirlate who is un- worthy, however much he may be endorsed by the party. The fifst question asked about (he man, as about the measure, will be, *' Is he the lighl man loi the place? Is he a good man with abihtv .* ' WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? }t f9 wards lublic. all ill not, is un- The ill be, with There had been more of this ; btit we have quoted enough to show the chaiacter of the editorials. Hundreds of men in Raymond had read it, and rubbed their eyes in amazement. A good many of them had promptly written to The News, telling the editor to stop their paper. The paper still came out, however, and was eagerly read all over the city. At the end of the week Edward Norman knew very wejl that he had actually lost already a large number of valuable sub- scribers. He faced the conditions calmly, although Clark, the managing editor, grimly anticipated ulti- mate bankruptcy, especially since Monday's editorial. To-night, as Henry Maxwell read to his wife, he could see on almost every column evidences of Norman's conscientious obedience to his promise. There was an absence of slangy, sensational scare- heads. The reading matter under the head lines was in perfect keeping with them. He noticed in two oolumns that the reporters' names appeared, signed, at the bottom. And there w^as a distinct advance in the dignity and style of their contributions. "So Normnn is beginning to get his reporters to sign their work. He has talked with me about that. It is a good thing. It fixes responsibility for items where it belongs, and raises the standard of work done. A good thing all around, for public and writers." Henry Maxwell suddenly paused. His wife looked up from some work she was doing. He was reading something with the utmost interest. *' Listen to this, Mary," he said, after a moment, while his voice trembled — 90 IN HIS STEPS. Tliis morning Alexander Powers, Superintendent of the L. and T. K. H. shops in this city, handed his resignation to tlie road, and j^ave as the reason the fact tiiat certain proof had fallen into his hands of the violation of the Interstate Commerce Law, and also of the State law which has recently been framed to prevent and punish railroad pooling for the benefit of certain favoured shippers. Mr. Powers states in his resignation that he can no longer consistently withliold the information he possesses against the road. He has placed his evidence against the compan.y m the hands of the Commission, and it is now for them to take action upon it. Jlic News wishes to express itself on this action of Mr. Powers. In the fust place, he has nothing to gain by it. He has lost a valiable place, voluntarily, when, by keeping silent, he might have rct:iined it. In the second place, we believe his actioai ought to receive the apj')roval of all thoughtful, honest citizens, who believe in seeing law obeyed and law-breakers brought to justice. In a case like this, where evidence against a railroad company is generally understood to be almost impossible to obtaiM, it is the general belief that the officers of the road are often in posses- sion of criminating facts, but do not consider it to be any oi their business to inform the authorities that tiie law is being defied. The entire result of this evasion of responsibility on the part of those who are responsible, is demoralising to every young man connected with the road. The editoi of The News recalls the statement made by a prominent railroad official in this city a little while ago, that nearl}' every clerk in a certain department of the road who understood how large sums of money were made by shrewd violations of the Interstate Commerce Law, was ready t* admire the shrewdness with whicli it was done, and declared that they would all do the same thing if they were high enough in railroad circles to attempt it.*^ It is not necessary to sa}' that such a condition of business is destructive to all the nobler and hi-^her standards of conduct; and no young man can live in such an atmosphere of un- punislicd dishonesty and lawlessness without wrecking his character. In our judgment, Mr. Powers did the only thing that a * This was actually said in (^le of the general offices of a great western railroad to the author's knowledge. -...,. ♦• WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 91 Ciiristiaii man can do. He has rendered brave and useful service to the Slate and the jjeneral public. It is not 'ihvays an easy matter to determine the relations that exist between the indi- vidu.d citizen and his fixed duty to the public. In this case, there is no doubt in our minds that the step which Mr. Powers has taken commends itself to every man who believes in law and its enforcement. There are times when the individual must act for the people, in ways that will mean sacrifice and loss to hhn of the j^ravest character. IvL'. Powers will be misunderstood and misrepresented ; but there is no question that his course will be approved liy every citizen wl;o wishes to see the greatest corpora- tions, as well as the weakest individual, subject to the same law. Mr. Powers has done all that a loyal, patriotic citizen could do. It now remains for the Commission to act upon his evidence, which, we understand, is overwhehning proof of the lawlessness of the L. and T. Let the law be enforced, no matter who the persons may be who have been guilty. Henry Maxwell finished reading and dropped the l>aper. " \ must go and see Powers. This is the result of his promise." He rose, and as he was going out his wife said — ** Do you think, Henry, that Jesus would have done that ? " Henry Maxwell paused a moment. Then he answered slowly — " Yes, I think He would. At any rate, Powers has decided so, and each one of us who made the promise understands that he is not deciding Jesus' conduct for anyone else, only for himself." " How about his family ? How will Mrs. Powers and Celia be likely to take it ?" "Very hard, I have no doubt. That will be Powers's cross in this matter. They will not under- stand his motive." 93 IN HIS STEPS. Henry Maxwell went out and walked over to the next block, where the Superintendent lived. To his relief, Powers himself came to the door. The two men shook hands silently. They instantly understood each other, without words. There had never been such a bond of union between the minister and his parishioner. "What are you going to do ?" Henry Maxwell asked, after they had talked over the facts in the case. *' You mean another position ? I have no plans yet, I can go back to my old work as a telegraph operator. My family will not suffer except in a social way." Alexander Powers spoke calmly, if sadly. Henry Maxwell did not need to ask him how his wife and daughter felt. He knew well enough that the Super- intendent had suffered deepest.at that point. " There is one matter I wish you would see to, " said Powers after a while, " and that is the work begun at the Shops. So far as I know, the company will not object to that going right on. It is one of the con- tradictions of the railroad world that the Y.M.C.A.'s, and other Christian influences, are encouraged by the ro?ds, while all the time the most un-Christian and lawless acts are being committed in the official management of the roads themselves. Of course it is understood that it pays a railroad to have in its employ men who are temperate, and honest, and Christian. So I liave no doubt the Master Mechanic will have the same courtesy extended to him that I had, in the matter of the room and its uses. But what I want you to do,, Mr. Maxwell, is to see that my plan is "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 93 the md is loy IS carried out. Will you ? You understand what the idea was in general. You made a very favourable impression on the men. Go down there as often as you can. Get Milton Wright interested to provide something for the furnishing and expense of the coffee plant and reading tables. Will you do it ? " " Yes, " replied Henry Maxwell. He stayed a little longer. Before he went away, he and the Superin- tendent had a prayer together, and they parted with that silent handgrasp that seemed to them like a new token of their Christian discipleship and fellowship. The pastor of the First Church went home stirred deeply by the events of the week. Gradually the truth was growing upon him that the pledge to do as Jesus would was working out a revolution in his parish and throughout the city. Every day added to the serious results of obedience to that pledge. Henry Maxwell did not pretend to see the end. He was in fact, only now at the very beginning of events that were destined to change the history of hundreds of families, not only in Raymond, but throughout the entire country. As he thought of Edward Norman and Rachel and Mr. Powers, r.nd of the results that had already come from tlicir acti'ns, he could not help a feeling of intense interest in the probable effect if all the persons in the First Church who had made the pledge, faithfully kept it. Would they all keep it, or would some of them turn back when the cross became too heavy ? He Was asking this question the next morning, as he sat in his study, when the President of the Endeavour Society called to see him. 3i ■4 94 IN HIS STEPS. " 1 suppose I ought not to trouble you with my case," said young Morris, coming at once to his errand; " but I thought, Mr. Maxwell, that you might advise me a little." " I'm glad you came. Go on, Fred." Henry Max- well had known the young man ever since his first year in the pastorate, and loved and honoured him for his consistent, faithful service in the church. " Well, the fact of it is, I'm out of a job. You know I've been doing reporter work on the morning Sentinel since I graduated last year. Well, last Saturday Mr. Burr asked me to go down the road Sunday morning and get the details of that train robbery at the Junction, and write the thing up for the extra edition that came out Monday morning, just to get the start of The Neivs. I refused to go, and Burr ^ave me my dismissal. He was in a bad temper, or I think perhaps he would not have done it. He has always treated me well before. Now, don't you think Jesus would have done as I did ? I ask, because the other fellows say I was a fool not to do the work. I want to feel that a Christian acts from motives that may seem strange to others, some- times, but not foolish. What do you think ? " " I think you kept your promise, Fred. I cannot believe Jesus would do newspaper work on Sunday, as you were asked to do it." " Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I felt a little troubled over it, but the longer I think it over the better I feel." Morris rose to go, and Henry Maxwell rose and laid a loving hand 0^1 the young man's shoulder. I I " WHAT WOULD JKSUS DO 95 th my -rrand; ;ise me J Max- lis first lim for Li know Sentinel [ay Mr. lorning mction, at came le Neivs. al. He uld not before. I did ? ol not an acts , some- cannot iday, as roubled )etter I t md laid ** What are you going to do, Fred ? " " i don't know yet. I have thought some of going to Chicago, or some large city." " Why don't you try The Xen's ? " " They are all supplied. I have not thought of applying there." Henry Maxwell thought a moment. *' Come down to The Xeivs office with me, and let us see Norman about it." So, a few minutes later, Edward Norman received into his room the minister and young Morris, and Henry Maxwell briefly told the cause of their errand. " I can give you a place on The Xcn's," said Edward Norman, with his keen look softened by a smile that made it winsome. " I want reporters who won't work Sundays. And what is more, I am making plans for a special kind of reporting which I believe young Morris here can develop, because he is in sympathy with what jesus would do." He assigned Morris a definite task, and Henry Max- well started back to his study, feeling that kind of satisfaction (and it is a very deep kind) which a man feels when he has been even partly instrumental in finding an unemployed person a situation. He had intended to go back to his study, but on his way home he passed by one of Milton Wright's stores. He thought he would simply step in and shake hands with his parishioner and bid him God-speed in what he had heard he was doing to put Christ into his business. But when he went into the office, Milton Wright insisted on detaining him to talk over some of his a 9d IN MIS STEPS. new plans. Henry Maxwell asked himself if this was the Milton Wright he used to know, eminently practical, business-like, according to the regular code of the business world, and viewing everything first and fore- most from the standpoint of "Will it pay ?" "There is no use to disguise the fact, Mr. Maxwell, that I have been compelled to revolutionise the whole method of my business since I made that promise. I have been doing a great many things, during the last twenty years in this store, that 1 know Jesus would not do. But that is a small item compared with the number of things I begin to believe Jesus would do. My sins of commission have not been as many as those of omission in business relations." "What was the first change you made?" asked Henry Maxwell. He felt as if his sermon could wait for him in his study. As the interview with Milton Wright continued, he was not so sure but that he had found material for a sermon without going back to his study. " I think the first change I had to make was in my thought of my employees. I came down here Monday morning after that Sunday and asked myself, ' What would Jesus do in His relation to these clerks, book- keepers, office boys, draymen, salesmen ? Would He try to establish some sort of personal relation to them different from that which I have sustained all these years ? ' I soon answered the question by saying, Yes. Then came the question of what it would lead me to do. I did not see how I could answer it to my satisfaction without getting all my employees together "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 97 lis was ictical, of the :l foie- ixwell, whole ise. I ng the I Jesus :d with would i many asked Id wait Milton he had )ack to in my onday What book- uld He them 1 these saying, Id lead t to my Dgether and having a talk with them. So I sent invitations to all of them, and we had a meeting out there in the warehouse Tuesday night. "A good many things came out of that meeting. I can't tell you all. I tried to talk with the men as 1 imagined Jesus might, it was hard work, for I have not been in the habit of it, and I must have made mis- takes. But I can hardly make you believe, Mr. Max- well, the effect of that meeting on some of the men. Before it closed, I saw more than a dozen of them with tears on their faces. I kept asking, * What would Jesus do ? ' and the more I asked it, the farther along it pushed me into the most intimate and loving relations with the men who have worked for me all these years. Every day something new is coming up, and I am right now in the midst of a recon- structing of the entire business, so far as its motive for being conducted is concerned. I am so practically ignorant of all plans for co - operation and its application to business, that I am trying to get infor- mation from every possible source. I have lately made a special study of the life of Titus Salt, the great mill owner of Bradford, England, who afterwards built that model town on the banks of the Aire. There is a good deal in his plans that will help. But I have not yet reached definite conclusions in regard to all the details. I am not enough used to Jesus' methods. But see here." Milton eagerly reached up into one of the pigeon- holes of his desk and took out a paper. •' 1 have sketched out what seems to me a pro- 98 IN' HIS STEPS. gramme such as Jesus mij^lit go by in a business like mine. I want you to tell me what ^uu think about it." WHAT JKSUS WOULD PROHAI^LY DO IN MILTON WRIGHT'S PLACH AS A HUSINKSS MAX. (i) He would enj^a^c in business for the purpose of ^lorifyin;* GotI, and not for the primary purpose of niakinj^ money. (2) All money that mi.i^lit be made He would never regard ns Hi.s own, but as trust funds to be used for the good of humanity. (3) His relations with all the persons in His employ would be the mo.-)t loving and helpful. He could not help thinking of tiieni all in the light of souls to be saved. This thought would always be greater tlian His thought of making money in business. (4) He would never do a single dishouest or cpiestionablcj thing, or try in any remotest way to get the advantage of any- one else in the same business. (5) The principle of unselfishness and helpfulness in all the details of the business would direct its details. (6) Upon this principle He woukl shape the entire plan of His relations to His employees, to the people wlio were His customers, and to the general business world with which He was connected. Henry Maxwell read this over slowly. It reminded him of his own attempts the day before to put into a concrete form his thought of Jesus' probable action. He was very thoughtful, ns he looked up and met Milton Wright's eager gaze. ** Do you believe you can continue to make your business p.'^.y on those lines ? " " I do. Intelligent unselfishness ought to be wiser than intelligent selfishness, don't you think ? If the men who work as employees begin to feel a personal share in the profits of the business, and, more than that, a personal love for themselves on the part of the firm, won't the result be more care, less waste, more diligence, more faithfulness ? " . "WHAT WOrLD JESUS DO?'* 90 , "Yes, I think so. A ^oocl many other business men don't, do they? I mean as a general thing. How about your relations to the selfish world tliat is not trying to make money on Christian principles ?" " That complicates my action, of course." " Does your plan contemplate what is coming to be known as co-operation ?" ** Yes, as far as I have gone, it does. As I told you, I iiin studying out my detaiis '\arefully. I am absolutely convinced that Jesus in luy place would be absolutely unselfish. He wou't love all t'.jse men in Hi"^. employ. He would consider the main purpose of all the business to be a mutual hcApfulness, and would conduct it all so that God's kingdom vould be evidently the first object sought. On those general princi[»les, as I say, I am working. 1 must have time to complete the details." When Henry Maxwell finally left Milton Weight, he was profoundly impressed with the revolution that was being wrought already in the business. As he passed out of the store he caught something of the new spirit of the place There was no mistaking the fact that Milton Wright's new relations to his employees were beginning, even so soon, after less than two weeks, to transform the entire business. This was apparent in the conduct and faces of the clerks. " If Milton Wright keeps on, he will be one of the most influential preachers in Raymond," said Henry Maxwell to himself when he reached his study. The question rose as to his continuance in this course when he began to lobe money by it, as was possible. TOO IN HIS STEPS. Henry Maxwell prayed that the Holy Spirit, who had shown Himself with growing power in the company of the First Church disciples, might abide long with them all. And with that prayer on his lips and in his heart he began the preparation of a sermon, in which he was going to present to his people on Sunday the subject of the saloon in Raymond, as he now believed Jesus would do. He had never preached against the saloon in this way before. He knew that the things he should say would lead to serious results. Never- theless, he went on with his work, and every sentence he wrote or shaped was preceded with the question, *' Would Jesus say that ?" Once in the course of his study he went down on his knees. No one except himself could know what that meant to him. When had he done that in the preparation of sermons before the change that had come into his thought of disciple- ship ? As he viewed his ministry now, he did not dare to preach without praying for wisdom. He no longer thought of his dramatic delivery and its effect on his audience. The great question with him now was, " What would Jesus do ? " Saturday night at the Rectangle witnessed some of the most remarkable scenes that Mr. Gray and his wife had ever known. The meetings had intensified with each night of Rachel's singing, A stranger passing through the Rectangle in the daytime might have heard a good deal about the meetings, in one way and another. It cannot be said that, up to that Saturday night, there was any appreciable lack of oaths and impurity and heavy drinking. The Rectangle would ''WHAT WOULD JESUS D0?'» lOI ho had mpany g with i in his which day the eheved nst the things Never- jntence lestion, e of his except When before isciple- id not He no s effect m now ome of lis wife sd with passing e heard ay and aturday hs and : would not have acknowledged that it was growing any better, or that even the singing had softened its conversation, or its outward manner. It had too much local pride in being " tough." But, in spite of itself, there was a yielding to a power it had never measured, and did not know well enough to resist beforehand. Gray had recovered his voice, so that Saturday he was able to speak. The fact that he was obliged to use his voice carefully made it necessary for the people to be very quiet if they wanted to hear. Gradually they had come to understand that this man was talking these many weeks, and using his time and strength to give them a knowledge of a Saviour, all out of a per- fectly unselfish love for them. To-night the great crowd was as quiet as Henry Maxwell's decorous audience ever was. The fringe around the tent was deeper, and the saloons were practically empty. The Holy Spirit had come at last, and Gray knew that one of the great prayers of his life was going to be answered. And Rachel — her singing was the best, most wonder- ful, Virginia or Jasper Chase had ever known. They had come together again to-night with Dr. West, who had spent all his spare time that week in the Rectangle with some charity cases. Virginia was at .he organ, Jasper sat on a front scat looking up at Rachel, and the Rectangle swayed as one man towards tlie platform as she sang — Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come. Gray hardly said a word. He stretched out his hand with a gesture of invitation. And down the two aisles mi 102 IN HIS STEPS. of the tent, broken, sinful creatures, men and women, stumbled towards the platform. One woman out of the street was near the organ. Virginia caught the look of her face, and, for the first time in the life of the rich girl, the thought of what Jesus was to a sinful woman came with a suddenness and power that was like nothing but a new birth. Virginia left the organ, went to her, looked into her face and caught her hands in her own. The other girl trembled, then fell on her knees, sobbing, with her head down upon the back of the bench in front of her, still clinging to Virginia. And Virginia, after a moment's hesitation, kneeled down by her, and the two heads were bowed close together. But when the people had crowded in a double row all about the platform, most of them kneeling and crying, a man in evening dress, different from the others, pushed through the seats and came and kneeled down by the side of the drunken man who had disturbed the meeting when Henry Maxwell spoke. He kneeled within a few feet of Rachel Winslow, who was still singing softly. And as she turned for a moment and looked in his direction, she was amazed to see the face of Rollin Page ! For a moment her voice faltered. Then she went on — Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ; Because Thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come, I come. The voice was as the voice of divine longing, and the Rectangle, for the time being, was swept into the harbour of redemptive grace. 'i CHAPTER V. the leeled had He who or a lazed t her , and the If any man serve Me, let liim follow Me. IT was nearly midnight before the service at the Rectangle closed. Gray stayed up long into Sunday morning, praying and talking with a httle group of converts that, in the great experience of their new life, clung to the evangelist with a per- sonal helplessness that made it as mipossible for him to leave them as if they had been depending upon him to save them from physical death. Among these con- verts was Rollin Page. Virginia and her uncle had gone home about eleven o'clock, and Rachel and Jasper Chase had gone with them as far as the avenue where Virginia lived. Dr. West had walked on a little way with them to his own house, and Rachel and Jasper had then gone on together to her mother's. That was a little after eleven. It was now striking midnight, and jasper Chase sat in his room staring at the papers on his desk and going over the last half- hour with painful persistence. He had told Rachel Winslow of his love for her, and she had not given her love in return. 10:^ IN HIS STEPS. It would be difficult to know what was most power* ful in the impulse that had moved him to speak to her to-night. He had yielded to his feelings without any special thought of results to himself, because he had felt so certain that Rachel would respond to his love for her. He tried to recall now just the impression she made on him when he lirst spoke to her. Never had her beauty and her strength influenced him as to-night. While she was singing he saw and heard no one else. The tent swarmed with a confused crowd of faces, and he knew he was sitting there hemmed in by a mob of people ; but they had no meaning to him. He felt powerless to avoid speaking to her. He knew he should speak when they were once alone. Now that he had spoken he felt that he had mis- judged either Rachel or the opportunity. He knew, or thought he did, that she had begun to care for him. It was no secret between them that the heroine of Jasper's first novel had been his own ideal of Rachel, and the hero of the story was himself, and they had loved each in the book, and Rachel had not objected. No one else knew. The names and characters had been drawn with a subtle skill that revealed to Rachel, when she received a copy of the book from Jasper, the fact of his love for her, and she had not been offended. That was nearly a year ago. To-night, jasper Chase recalled the scene betweeti them, with every inflection and movement unerased from his memory. He even recalled the fact that he began to speak just at that point on the avenue where, lower- 2ak to ithout use he to his ression Liencecl iw and )nfused t there lad no peaking ey were ad mis- new, or him. It Jasper's land the red each INo one In drawn Ihen she fact of . That [between merasecl that he where, "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?'' 105 a few days before, he had met Rachel walking with Rollin Page. He had wondered at the time what Rollin was saying. *' Rachel," Jasper had said, and it was the first time he had ever spoken her first name, " I never knew until to-night how much I love you. Why should I try to conceal any longer what you have seen me look ? You know I love you as my life. I can no longer hide it from you if I would." The first intimation he had of a refusal was the trembling of Rachel's arm in his own. She had allowed him to speak, and had neither turned her face towards him nor away from him. She had looked straight on, and her voice was sad but firm and quiet when she spoke. " Why do you speak to me now ? I cannot bear it — after what we have seen to-niiiht." " Why — what — what," he had stammered, and then was silent. Rachel withdrew her arm from his, but still walked near him. Then he cried out, with the anguish of one who begins to see a great loss facing him where he expected a groat joy. " Rachel I Do you not love me ? Is not my love for you as sacred as anything in all of life itself ? " She had walked on silent for a few steps after tliat. They had passed a street lamp. Her face was pale and beautiful. He had made a movement to clutch her arm. And she had moved a little farther from him. :. *'No/' she had replied, "There was a time— I can- mmmmm iMiHiiRiiina 1 06 IN HIS STEPS. not answer for that — you should not have spoken to me to-night." He had seen in these words his answer. He was extremely sensitive. Nothing short ot a joyous response to his own love would have satisfied him. He could not think of pleading with her, " Some time — when I am worthy ?" he had asked in a low voice ; but she did not seem to hear, and they had parted at her home, and he recalled vividly the fact that no good-night had been said. Now, as he went over the brief but significant scene, he lashed himself for his foolish precipitancy. He had not reckoned on Rachel's tense, passionate absorption of all her feeling in the scenes at the tent which were so new in her mind. But he did not know her well enough, even yet, to understand the meaning of her refusal. When the clock in the First Church steeple struck one he was still sitting at his desk, staring at the last page of manuscript of his unfinished novel. Rachel Winslow went up to her room and faced her evening's experience wdth conflicting emotions. Had she ever loved Jasper Chase ? Yes. No. One moment she felt that her life's happiness was at stake over the result of her action. Another, she had a strange feeling of relief that she had spoken as she did. There was one great overmastering feeling in her. The response of the wretched creatures in the tent to her singing, the swift awesome presence of the Holy Spirit, had affected her as never in all her life before. The moment Jasper had spoken her name and she realised that he was telling her of his love, she had felt ;n to 3 \yas 3yous him. ^ed in I they ily the scene, le had rption 1 were ;r well of her teeple at the faced )tions. One stake had a le did. n her. tent to Holy before, d she lad felt <' WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 107 a sudden revulsion for him, as if he should have respected the supernatural events they had just wit-, ncssed. She felt as if it were not the time to be absorbed in anything less than the divine glory of those conversions. The thought that all the time she was singing with the one passion of her soul to touch the conscience of that tent full of sin, Jasper Chase had been moved by it simply to love her for himself, gave her a shock as of irreverence on her part as well as on his. She could not tell why she felt as she did, only she knew that if he had not told her to-night she would still have felt ihe same towards him as she always had. What was that feeling ? What had he been to her ? Had she made a mistake ? She went (o her book-case and took out the novel which Jasper had given her. Her face deepened in colour as she turned to certain passages which she had read often, and which she knew Jasper had wriUen for her. She read them again. Somehow they failed to touch her strongly. She closed the book and let it lie on the table. She gradually felt that her thought was busy with the sight she had witnessed in that tent. Those faces, men and women, touched for the first time with the Spirit's glory. What a wonderful thing life was after all ! The complete regeneration revealed in the sight of drunken, vile, debauched humanity, kneel- ing down to give itself to a life of purity and Christ- likeness — oh, it was surely a witness to the superhuman in the world ! And the face of Rollin Page by the side of that miserable wreck out of the gutter — she could recall as if she now saw it, Virginia crying with her mgmmm io8 IN HIS STEPS. arms round about her brother just before she left the tent, and Mr. Gray kneeling close by, and the girl V^irginia had taken into her heart bending her head while Virginia whispered something to her. All these pictures drawn by the Holy Spirit in the human tragedies brought to a climax there in the most abandoned spot in all Raymond, stood out in Rachel's memory now, a memory so recent that liejr room seemed for the time being to contain all the actors and their movements. "No! No!" she had said aloud. "He had no right to speak to me after all that ! He should have respected the phifce where our thoughts should have been ; I am sure I do not love him. Not enough to give him my life I" And after she had thus spoken, the evening's experi- ence at the tent came crowding in again, thrusting out all other things. It is perhaps the most striking evidence of the tremendous spiritual factor which had now entered the Rectangle, that Rachel felt, even when the great love of a strong man had come very near to her, that the spiritual manifestation moved her with an agitation far greater than anything Jasper had felt for her personally, or she for him. The people of Raymond awoke Sunday morning to a growing knowledge of events which were beginning to revolutionise majiy of the regular, customary habits of the town, Alexander Powers's action in the matter of the railway frauds had created a sensation, not only in Raymond, but throughout the country. Edward ■Norman's daily changes of policy in the conduct of his " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" log left the he girl ir head 11 these human ; most Rachel's • room ors and had no i.ld have Id have ough to 5 experi- ing out striking which It, even me very ved her Jasper ning to ginning / habits ; matter ot only dward t of his paper had startled the community, and caused more comment than any recent political event. Rachel Winslow's singing at the Rectangle meetings had made a stir in society, and excited the wonder of all her friends. Virginia Page's conduct, her presence every night with Rachel, her absence from the usual circle of her wealthy, fashionable acquaintances, had furnished a great deal of material for gossip and question, hi addition to these events which centred about these persons who were so well known, there had been all through the city, in very many homes, and in busmess and social circles, strange happenings. Nearly one hundred persons in Henry Maxwell's church had made the pledge to do everything after asking, "What would Jesus do?" and the result had been, in many cases, unheard-of actions. The city was stirred as it had never been. Asa climax to the week's events had come the spiritual manifestation at the Rectangle, and the announcement which came to most people before church time of the actual conversion at the tent of nearly fifty of the worst characters in the neighbour- hood, together with the conversion of Rollin Page, the well-known society and club man. It is no wonder that, under the pressure of all this, the First Church of Raymond came to the morning service in a condition that made it quickly sensitive to any large truth. Perhaps nothing had astonished the people more than the great change that had come over the minister since he had proposed to them the imitation of Jesus in conduct. The dramatic delivery of his sermons no ' no IN HIS STEPS. longer iiiipicssed them. The self-satisfied, contented, easy attitude of the fine figure and the refined face in the pulpit, had been displaced by a manner that could not be compared with the old style of his delivery. The sermon had become a message. It was no longer delivered. It was brought to them with a love, an earnestness, a passion, a desire, a humility, that poured its enthusiasm about the truth and made the speaker no more prominent than he had to be as the living voice of God. His prayers were unlike any the people had ever heard before. They were often broken, even once or twice they had been actually ungrammatical in a phrase or two. When had Henry Maxwell so far forgotten himself in a prayer as to make a mistake of that sort? He knew that he had often taken as much pride in the diction and the delivery of his prayers as of his sermons. Was it possible he now so abhorred the elegant refinement of a formal public petition that he purposely chose to rebuke himself for his previous precise manner of prayer ? It is more likely that he had no thought of all that. His great longing to voice the needs and wants of his people made him unmindful of an occasional mistake. It is certain he had never prayed so effectively as he did now. There are times when a sermon has a value and power due to conditions in the audience rather than to anything new or startling or eloquent in the words or the arguments presented. Such conditions faced Henry Maxwell this morning as he preached against the saloon, according to his purpose determined on the week before. He had no new statements to make about "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" Ill itented, face in t could elivery. ) longer ove, an poured speaker 3 living ; people ;n, even imatical 11 so far stake of IS much ;rs as of red the hat he previous ly that ging to de him ain he ue and er than J words s faced against on the e about ■i the evil influence of the saloon in Raymond. What new facirs were there ? He had no startling illustra- tions of the power of the saloon in business or politics. What could he say that had not been said by temper- ance orators a great many times ? The effect of his message this morning owed its power to the unusual fact of his preaching about the saloon at all, together with the events that had stirred the people. He had never in the course of his ten years' pastorate mentioned the saloon as something to be regarded in the light of an enemy, not only to the poor and the tempted, but to the business life of the place and the church itself. He spoke now with a freedom that seemed to measure his complete sense of the conviction that Jesus would speak so. At the close he pleaded with the people to remember the new life that had begun at the Rectangle. The regular election of city officers was near at hand. The question of licence would be an issue in that election. What of the poor creatures surrounded by the hell of drink while just beginning to feel the joy of deliverance from sin ? Who could tell what depended on their environment ? Was there one word to be said by the Christian disciple, business man, professional man, citizen, in favour of continuing to license these crime and shame-producing institutions ? Was not the most Christian thing they could do to act as citizens in the matter, fight the saloon at the polls, elect good men to the city offices, and clean the municipality ? How much had prayers helped to make Raymond better while votes and actions had really been on the side of the enemies of Jesus ? Would not Jesus do this ? 113 IN HIS STEPS. What disciple could imagine Him refusing to suffer or take up His cross in the matter ? How much had the members of the P'irst Church ever suffered in an attempt to imitate Jesus ? Was Christian discipieship a thing of convenience, of custom, of tradition ? Where did the suffering come in ? Was it necessary in order to follow Jesus' steps to go up Calvary as well as the Mount of Transfiguration ? His appeal was stronger at this point than he knew. It is not too much to say that the spiritual tension of the First Church reached its highest point right there. The imitation of Jesus which had begun with the volunteers in the church was working like leaven in the organisation, and Henry Maxwell would, even thus early in his new life, have been amazed if he could have measured the extent of desire on the part of his people to take up the cross. While he was speaking this morning, before he closed with a loving appeal to the discipieship of two thousand years' knowledge of the Master, many a man and woman in the church was saying, as Kachcl had said so passionately to her mother, " I want to do something that will cost me something in the way of sacrifice ; " "I am hungry to suffer something." Truly Mazzini was right when he said, " No appeal is quite so powerful in the end as the call, ' Come and suffer.' " ' The service was over, the great audience had gone, and Henry Maxwell again faced the company gathered in the lecture-room as on the two previous Sundays. He had asked all to remain who had made the pledge of discipieship, and any others who wished to be " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? " 113 fer or td the n an leship Vhcre order as the knew, ion of : there, th the ven in in thus I could t of his leaking peal to ;dge of ch was to her ;ost me ngry to Ihen he as the gone, fathered lundays. pledge to be included. The after-service was now to be a necessity. As he went in and faced the 'leople there, his heart trembled. There were at least two hundred present. The Holy Spirit was never so manifest. He missed Jasper Chase. But all the others were present. He asked Milton Wright to pray. The very air was charged with divine possibilities. What could resist such a baptism of power ? How had they lived all these years without it ? They counselled together, and there were many prayers. Henry Maxwell dated from that meeting some of the serious events that afterwards became a part of the history of the First Church of Kaymond. When finally they went home, all of them were im- pressed with the joy of the Spirit's power. Donald Marsh, President of Lincoln College, walked home with Henry Maxwell. " I have reached one conclusion, Maxwell," said Marsh, speaking slowly. "I have found my cross, and it is a heavy one ; but I shall never be satisfied until I take it up and carry it." Maxwell was silent and the President went on : " Your sermon to-day made clear to me what I have long been feeling I ought to do. What would Jesus do in my place ? I have asked the question repeatedly since 1 made my promise. I have tried to satisfy myself that He would simply go on as I have done, attending to the duties of my college, teaching the classes in Ethics and Philosophy. But I have no! been able to avoid the feeling that He would do some- thing more. That something is what I do not want to «i 114 IN HIS STEPS. do. It will cause me genuine suffering to do it. I dread it with all my soul. You may be able to guess what it is ? " " Yes, I think I know," Henry Maxwell replied, *' It is my cross, too. I would almost rather do any- thing else." Donald Marsh lool'd surprised, then relieved. Then he spoke sadly, but with great conviction. " Maxwell, you and I belong to a class of pro- fessional men who have always avoided the duties oi citizenship. We have lived in a little world of seclusion, doing work we have enjoyed, and shrinking from the disagreeable duties that belong to the life of the citizen. I confess with shame that I have pur- posely avoided the responsibility that I owe to the city personally. I understand that our city officials are a corrupt, unprincipled set of men, controlled in large part by the whisky element, and thoroughly selfish so far as the affairs of city government are concerned. Yet all these years 1, with nearly every teacher in the college, have been satisfied to let other men run the municipality, and have lived in a little world of my own, out of touch and sympathy with the real world of the people. * What would Jesus do ? ' I have tried even to avoid an honest answer. I can no longer do so. My plain duty is to take a personal part in this coming election, go to the primaries, throw the weight of my influence, what- ever it is, towards the nomination and election of good men, and plunge into the very depths of this entire horrible whirlpool of deceit, bribery, political trickery "WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" ii5 it. 1 guess • plied, any- ieved. 1. pro- duties rid of nking life of J pur- to the fftcials led in ughly nt are every other little with Jesus nswer. take a o the what- { good entire ickery and saloonism as it exists in Raymond to-day. I would sooner walk up to the mouth of a cannon any time than do this. I dread it because I hate the touch of the whole matter. I would give almost anything to be able to say, * I do not believe Jesus would do any- thing of the sort.' But I am more and more per- suaded that He would. This is where the suffering comes to me. It would not hurt me half so much to lose my position or my home. I loathe the contact with this municipal problem. I would much prefer to remain quietly in my scholastic life with my classes in Ethics and Philosophy. But the call has come to me so plainly that I cannot escape : * Donald Marsh, follow Me. Do your duty as a citizen of Raymond at the point where your citizenship will cost you some- thing. Help to cleanse this great municipal stable, even if you do have to soil your aristocratic feelings a little.' Maxv/ell, this is my cross. I must take it up oi deny my Lord." "You have spoken for me also," replied Maxwell, with a sad smile. " Why shor.ld I, simply because I am rs, clergyman, shelter myself behind my refined, sensitive feelings and, like a coward, refuse to touch, except in a sermon possibly, the duty of citizenship i I am unused to the ways of the political life of the city. I have never taken an active part in the nomina- tion of good men. There are hundreds of ministers like me. As a class we do not practise, in the muni- cipal life, the duties and privileges we preach from the pulpit. What would Jesus do ? ! am now at a point where, like you, I am driven 'o answer the question MMOH ii6 IN HIS STEPS. one way. My duty is plain. I must suffer. All my parish work, all my little trials or self-sacrifices, are as nothing to me compared with the breaking into my scholarly, intellectual, self-contained habits of this open, coarse, public fight for a clean city life. I could go and live at the Rectangle the rest of my days and work in the slums for a bare living, and I could enjoy it more than the thought of plunging into a fight for the reform of this whisky-ridden city. It would cost me less. But with you I have been unable to shake off my responsibility. The answer to the question, ' What would Jesus do ? ' in this case leaves me no peace, except when I say, ' Jesus would have me act the part of a Christian citizen.' Marsh, as you say, we professional men, ministers, professors, artists, literary men, scholars, have almost invariably been political cowards. We have avoided the sacred duties of citizenship, either ignorantly or selfishly. Certainly Jesus, in our age, would not do that. We can do no less than take up this cross and follow Him." These two men walked on in silence for a while. Finally President Marsh said — "We do not need to act alone in lhi« matter. With all the men who have made the promise, we cer- tainly can have companionship and strengtl^ even of numbers. Let us organise the Christian forces of Raymond for the battle against rum and corruption. We certainly ought to enter the primaries with a force that will be able to do more than utter a protest. It is a fact that the saloon element is cowardly and easily " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ? " 117 frightened, in spite of its lawlessness and corruption. Let us plan a campaign that will mean something, because it is organised righteousness. Jesus would use great wisdom in this matter. He would employ means. He would make large plans. Let us do so. If we bear this cross, let us do i-t bravely, like men." They talked over the matter a long time, and met again the next day la Henry Maxwell's study to develop plans. The city primaries were c^iUtd tor Friday. Rumours of strange and unheard-of events to the average citizen were current in political circles throughout Raymond. The Crawford system of bal- loting for nominations was not in use in the state, and the primary was called for a public meeting at the court-house. The citizens of Raymond will never forget that meeting, it was so unlike any political meeting ever held in Raymond before that there was no attempt at comparison. The special officers to be nominated were Mayor, City Council, Chief of Police, City Clerk,* and City Treasurer. The Evening News, in its Saturday edition, gave a full account of the primaries, and in the editorial column Edward Norman spoke with a directness and convic- tion that the Christian people of R^,ymond were learning to respect deeply, because it was so evidently sincere and unselfish. A part of that editorial is also a part of this history ; — It is safe to say that never before in the liistory of Raymond was there a primary like the one in the Court-house last night. It was, first of all, a complete surprise to the city politicians, who have been in the habit of carrying on the affairs of the city mmmm ii8 IN HIS STEPS. as if they owned Ihern, and everyone else was simply a tool or a cipher. The overwhelming surprise of tlie wire-puller last night consisted in the fact that a large number of the citizens of Raymond, who have heretofore taken no part in the city affairs, entered the primary and controlled it, nominating some of the best men for all the offices to be filled at the coming election. It was a tremendous lesson in good citizenship. President Marsh, of Lincoln College, wlio never before entered a city primary, and whose face oven wag not known to many of the ward politicians, macic one of tho. best speeches e-vier heard in Raymond. It was almost ludrcrous to see the facas of the men wIk) for years had done as tlie^' pleased, when President Marsh rose to speak. M*any of them asked, ' Who is he?' The con- sternation deepened as the primary proceeded, and it beoame evident that the old-time ring of city rulers was outnumbered, Henry Maxwell, Pastor of the First Church ; Milton Wright, Alexander Powers : Professors Brown, Willard; and Park, of Lincoln College; Rev. John. West; Dr. George Maine, of the Pilgrim Church ; Dean Ward, of the Holy Trinity, and scores of wcJl-known business and professional men, most of them church members, were present, and it did- not take long to see that they had all come with the direct and definite purpose of nominating the best men possible. Most of the ,e men had never been seen in a primary. They were comple^':" atrangers to the politicians. But they had evidently profited oy the politician's methods, and were able, by organised and united effort, to nominate the entire ticket. As soon as it became plain that the primary was out of their control, flic regular ring withdrew in disgust, and nominated another ticket. The Ncn's simply calls the attention of all decent citizens to t»lie fact that this last ticket contains the names of whisky men, and the line is distinctly and sharply drawn between the machine and corrupt city government, such as we have known for years, and a clean, honest, capable, business-like city admini- stration, such as every good citizen ought to want. It is not necessary to remind the people of Raymond that the question of Local Option comes up at the election. That will be the most important question on the ticket. The crisis of our city affairs has been reached. The issue is squarely before us. Shall we continue the rule of rum and boodle and shameless incompetency^ or shall we, as President Marsh said in his noble speech, rise as " WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ?" iiq good citizens, and begin a new order of thinrfs, cleansing on:' city of the worst enemy kuown to municipaJ iionesty, and dom i what lies in our power to do with the ballot, to purify our civk Tife ? The News is positively, and without reservation, on the side o. the new movement. We shall hcncefortli do all in our power to drive out the saloon and destroy its political strength. \Vc shall advocate the election of men nominated by the majority of citizens met in the first prrmary, and we call upoji all Christians, Church member^, atvl lovers of right, purity, temperance, and home, to stand by President Marsh and the rest of the citizens who haTC thus began a long-needed reform in our city. President Mafrsh read this editorial, and thanked God for Edward Norman. At the ?ame time, he understood well enough that every other paper in Raymond was on the other side. He did not mis- understand the importance and seriousness of the fight which was only just begun. It was no secret that The Neivs had lost enormously since it had been governed by the standard of " What would Jesus do ? " The question now was, Would the Christian people of Raymond stand by it ? Would they make it possible for Norman to conduct a daily Christian paper? Or would thelF desire for what is called "nevvs," in the way of crime, scandal, political partisanship of the regular sort, and a dislike to champion so remarkable a reform of journalism, influence them to drop the paper and refuse to give it their financial support ? That was, in fact, the question Edward Norman was asking, even while he wrote the Saturday editorial. He knew well enough that his action expressed in that editorial would cost him very dearly from the hands of many business men of Raymond. And still, as he drove his 120 IN HIS STEPS, M *^i pen over the paper, he asked another question, '' What would Jesus do ? ". That question had -become a part of his whole life now. It was greater than any other. But, for the first time in its history, iRaymond had seen the professional men, the teachers, the college proteSDors, the doctors, the ministers, take political, action and put themselves definitely and sharply in antagonism to the evil forces that had so long con- trolled the machine of the municipal government. The fact itself was astonishing. President Marsh acknow- ledged to himself, with a feeling of humiliation, that never before had he known what civic righteousness could accomplish. From that Friday night's work he dated for himself and his college a new definition of the woiin phrase, "the Scholar in Poli^'cs." Education l