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 "WHATXWOULD JESUS DO? 
 
 CHARLE5 M SHELDON 
 
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In His Steps 
 
 "What Would Jesus Do?" 
 
 CHARLES M. SHELDON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE CRUCIFIXION OF PHILIP STRONG,' 
 "ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS," ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 Advance Publishing Co. 
 
 215 MADISON STREET 
 
 1897 
 
Copyright, 1897 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES M. SHELDON. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Typography by John A. Ulrich, Chicago. 
 
 Prksbwork by C. O. Owen it Co. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The sermon story, In His Steps, or "What Would Jesus 
 Do?" was first written in the winter ot 1896, and read by the 
 author, a chapter at a time, to his Sunday evening congrega- 
 tion in the Central Congregational Church, Topeka, Kansas. 
 It was then printed as a serial in The Advance (Chicago), 
 and its reception by the readers of that paper 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-cov- 
 ered volumes at a price within the reach of nearly all 
 readers. 
 
 The story has been warmly and thoughtfully welcomed 
 by Endeavor societies, temperance organizations, 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. 
 
 Topeka, Kansas, November, 1897. 
 
IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ''For hereunto were ye called; because Christ also suffered for 
 you, leaving you an example, that ye should follow his steps." 
 
 It was Friday morning and the Rev. Henry Maxwell was 
 trying to finish his Sunday morning sermon. He had been 
 interrupted several times and was growing nervous as the 
 morning wore away and the sermon grew very slowly to- 
 wards a satisfactory finish. 
 
 "Mary," he called to his wife, as he went up stairs after 
 the last interruption, "if any one 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 Kinder- 
 garten and j^ou 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 himself at his desk with a sigh of relief and 
 began to write. His text was from First Peter, ii: 21. 
 
 "For hereunto were ye called; because Christ also suf- 
 fered for 3'OU, leaving you an example, that ye should fol- 
 low his steps." 
 
 He had emphasized 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 emphasize the Atone- 
 
} 
 
 6 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ment 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 charac- 
 ter 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 clocli-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 movement to answer the bell. Very soon it rang 
 again. Then he rose and vralked over to one of his Avin- 
 dows which commanded a view of the front door. 
 
 A man was standing on the steps. He was a young man 
 very shabbily dressed. 
 
 "Looks lilvc a tramp," said the minister. "I suppose I'll 
 have to go down, and—" 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but he went down stairs 
 and opened the front door. 
 
 There was a moment's pause as the two men stood 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," replied tlie 
 minister beginning to shut the door slowly. 
 
 "I didn't know but you might perhaps be able to give me 
 a line to the city railway or superintendent of the shops or 
 something," continued the young man, shifting his fado-iJ 
 hat from one hand to the other nervously. 
 
 "It would be of no use. You will have to excuse me. I 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 7 
 
 am very busy this morning. I liope you will find some- 
 thing. Sorry I can't give you something to do here. But I 
 keep only a horse and a cow and do the worli 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 that the man was going slowly 
 down the street, still holding his hat between his hands. 
 There was something in the figure 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 service. 
 
 "A queer thing happened at the Kindergarten this morn- 
 ing, 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 assist- 
 ant, Miss Kyle, were a little frightened at first, but he sat 
 there very quietly and after a few minutes he w^ent out." 
 
 "Perhaps he was tired and wanted to rest somewhere. 
 The same man called here, I think. Did you say he looked 
 lilvc 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 thought- 
 fully. 
 
8 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "Did you finish your sermon, Henry?" his wife asked 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Yes, all done. It has been a very busy week with me. 
 The two sermons cost me a good deal of labor." 
 
 'They will be appreciated by a large audience to-mor- 
 row, [ hope," replied his wife smilling. "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 Sun- 
 day. We have had so many rainy days lately." 
 
 "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 ser- 
 mons for large audiences that failed to appear. 
 
 But Sunday morning dawned on the town of Raymond 
 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 free from all threatening signs, and 
 every one in Henry Maxwell's parish prepared to go to 
 church. When the service opened at eleven o'clock, the 
 large building was filled with an audience of the best 
 llressed, 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, 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 9 
 
 "Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
 All to leave and follow thee." 
 
 Just before the sermon, the soprano sang a solo, the well 
 known hymn, 
 
 "Where He leads me I will follow, 
 
 I'll go with Him, with Him all the way." 
 
 Rachel Winslow looked very beautiful that morning as 
 she stood up behind the screen of carved oak which was 
 significantly marked with the emblems of the cross and the 
 crown. Her voice was even more beautiful than her face, 
 and that meant a great deal. There was a general rustle of 
 expectatiou over the audience as she rose. Henry Maxwell 
 settled himself contentedly behind the pulpit. Rachel Wins- 
 loAv'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 vigor- 
 ously 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. 
 
10 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 It gave their preacher and their parish a pleasant distinc- 
 tion 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 exhil- 
 erating half -hour for him as he stood facing a church full 
 of people and knew that he had a hearing. He was pecu- 
 liarly sensitive to variations in the attendance. He never 
 preached well before a small audience. The weather also 
 affected him decidedly. 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 had a mem- 
 bership 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 Kev. Henry Maxwell knew just 
 how he could carry on all that thought in connection witli 
 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 substance 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 as 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 sen- 
 tences. Thej^ would have commanded attention printed. 
 Spoken with the passion of a dramatic utterance that had 
 the good taste never to offend with a suspicion of ranting 
 or declamation, they were very effective. If the Rev. Henry 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 11 
 
 Maxwell that morniDg felt satisfied with the conditions of 
 his pastorate, the parish of First Church also had a similar 
 feeling as it congratulated itself on the presence in the pul- 
 pit of this scholarly, refined, somewhat striiiing face and 
 figure, preaching with such animation and freedom from all 
 vulgar, nois5% or disagj'eeable mannerism. 
 
 Suddenly, into the midst of this perfect accord and con- 
 cord 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 a close. The Rev. Henry Max- 
 well had turned the half of the big Bible over upon his 
 manuscript and was about to sit down, as the quartette pre- 
 pared to rise and sing the closing selection, 
 
 "All for Jesus, All for Jesus, 
 
 All my being's ransomed powers," 
 
 when the entire congregation was startled by the sound of a 
 man's voice. It came from the 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 realized what was being- 
 done, the man had reached the open space in front of the 
 puJpit 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 he repeated them, 
 *'if it would be just the thing to say a word at the close of 
 this service. I'm not drunk and I'm not crazy, and I'm per- 
 fectly harmless; but if I die, as there is every likelihood I 
 
13 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 shall in a few days, I waut the sattsfactiou of thinking that 
 I said my say in a place like this, before just this sort of a 
 orowd." 
 
 Henry Maxwell had not taken his seat and he now 
 remained standing, leaning on his pulpit, looking down at 
 the stranger. It was the man who had come to his house Fri- 
 day morning, the same dusty, worn, shabby-looking young 
 man. He held his faded hat in his two hands. It seemed 
 to be a favorite gesture. He had not been shaved and his 
 hair was rough and tangled. It was doubtful if any one 
 like this had ever confronted the First Church within the 
 sanctuary. It was tolerably familiar with this sort of 
 humanity out on the street, around the Railroad shops, 
 wandering up and down the avenue, but it had never 
 dreamed of such an incident 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 dis- 
 tinct voice. Henry Maxwell was conscious, even as he 
 stood there smitten into dumb 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 per- 
 plexity concerning what was best to do. However that may 
 be, he went on as if he had no thought 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 speaking, 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 13 
 
 Winslow, from the choir seats, stared white and intent 
 down at the shabby figure with the faded hat. Her face 
 was striliing at any time. Under the pressm'e of the pres- 
 ent 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 l^now of any 
 teaching of Jesus that malies one liind 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. Then 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 Ivilled 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 one 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 complain- 
 ing, 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 the disciple of Jesus to follow his steps, 
 and he said the steps were, obedience, faith, love, and imi- 
 tation. 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 
 
14 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 your minister here, who said he was sorry for me and hopeil 
 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 any- 
 body, 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 asli-ing 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 understand 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 
 cliy, 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 nourishment 
 and tenement air, but what does following Jesus mean? 1 
 understand that Christian people own a good many of the 
 tenements. A member of a church was the owner of the 
 one where my wife died, and I have wondered if following 
 Jesus all the way was true in his case. I heard some peo- 
 ple 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, 
 All my days and all my hours;' 
 
 aod I kept wondering as I sat on the steps outside just 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 15 
 
 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, while the people outside of the churches, thousands 
 of them, I mean, die in tenements and wallc 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 communion 
 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 from his feet, but as yet the silence was 
 unbrolvcn by any voice or movement worth mention- 
 ing In the audience. The man passed his other hand across 
 his eyes, and then, without any warning, fell heavily for- 
 ward on his face, full length, up the aisle. 
 
 Henry Maxwell spolie, "We will consider the service dis- 
 missed." He was down the pulpit stairs and kneeling by 
 the prostrate form before any one else. The audience 
 instantly rose and the aisle was crowded. Dr. West pro- 
 nounced 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 cliurch 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. 
 
16 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Bachel Wiuslow said, "Mother lias no company at present. 
 I am sure we \^'oiilcl be glad to give him a place with us." 
 She looked strangely agitated. No one noticed it particu- 
 larly. They were all excited over the strange event, the 
 strangest that First Chm'ch people could remember. But 
 the minister insisted on taking charge of the man and when 
 a carriage came, the unconscious but living form was car- 
 ried to his house and w^ith 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 definition of Christian discipleship. 
 
 The event created a great sensation in the First 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 sur- 
 roundings. 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 com- 
 plaining 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 sub- 
 iect. 
 
 The third day after his removal to the minister's house 
 there was a marked change in his condition. The doctor 
 i^poke of it and offered no hope. Saturday morning he still 
 lingered, although he 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 17 
 
 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. 
 
 "I shall never see her in this world," the man whispered. 
 Then he uttered with great difficulty the words, "You have 
 been good to me. Somehow I feel as if it was what Jesus 
 would do." After a few moriients he turned his head slightly, 
 and before Henry Maxwell could realize the fact, the doc- 
 tor said, "He is gone." 
 
 The Sunday morning that dawned on the city of Ray- 
 mond was exactly like the Sunday of the week 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 home 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 opened 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 consider- 
 
18 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 able hesitation. It was evident tliat some great idea 
 struggled in his thought for utterance but it was not 
 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 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 his- 
 tory. He had one sister living in Chicago. I have written 
 her 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 his experi- 
 ences, the crisis through which he w^as even now mov- 
 ing. But something of his feeling passed from him to them, 
 and it did not seem to him that he was acting under a care- 
 less impulse at all to go on and break to them, this morn- 
 ing, 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 19 
 
 not prevent me from feeling that much that the man 
 said was so vitally true that we must face it in an attempt 
 to answer it or else stand condemned as Christian disciples. 
 A good deal that was said here last Sunday was in the 
 nature of a challenge to Christianity as it 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 
 appropriate than the present for me to propose a plan or a 
 purpose which has been forming in my mind as a satis- 
 factory 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 
 in the First Church. The minister could see Edward Norman, 
 Editor of the Raymond "Daily News." He had been a mem- 
 ber of First Church for ten years. No man was more 
 honored in the community. There was Alexander Powers, 
 Superintendent of the Railroad shops. There was Donald 
 Marsh, President of Lincoln College, situated in the 
 suburbs of Raymond. There was Milton Wright, one of 
 the great merchants of Raymond, having in his employ at 
 least one hundred men in various shops. There was Dr. 
 West who, although still comparatively young, was 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 beauty of light this morn- 
 ing because she was so intensely interested in the whole 
 scene. 
 
30 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 There was some reason perhaps, in view of such material 
 in the First Church, for Henry Maxwell's feeling of satis- 
 faction whenever he considered his parish as he had the 
 previous Sunday. There was a large number of strong indi- 
 vidual 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 malie. He continued 
 slowly, taliing time to choose his words carefully and giv- 
 ing 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 execu- 
 tion. 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, per- 
 haps 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 asliing 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 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 21 
 
 Will be, 'What would Jesus do?' Our aim will be to act just 
 as he would if he were iu our places, regardless of immedi- 
 ate 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 loolved 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 con- 
 fusion 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 expected to remain, 
 to pass into the lecture room on the side. He himself was 
 detained at the front of the church talking with several 
 persons 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 per- 
 
33 TN HIS STEPS. 
 
 haps fifty members present. Among them were Rachel 
 Winslow and Virginia Page, Mr. Norman, President Marsh, 
 Alexander Powers the Railroad Superintendent, 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 Maxwell did 
 not, as we have said, j^et 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 depth of feeling he could not measure, as he 
 looked into the faces of these men and women on this occa- 
 sion. 
 
 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 all 
 felt it. The room was filled with it as plainly as if it had 
 been visible. When the prayer closed there was a silence 
 that lasted several moments. All the heads were bowed. 
 Henry Maxwell's face was wet with tears. If 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 seri- 
 ous movement ever started in the First Church of Raymond 
 was begun. 
 
 "We all understand," said Henry Maxwell, speaking very 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 33 
 
 quietly, "what we have undertaken to do. We pledge our- 
 selves to do everj^thing 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 marvelous 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 com- 
 pelled 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 understand fully what we have undertaken?" 
 
 "I want to ask a question,*' said liachel Winslow. 
 
 Every one turned towards her. Her faced 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 Avould 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 civilization that 
 are not mentioned in the teaching of .Tesus. 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 dis- 
 ciples about the Holy Spirit: 
 
 ** 'Howbeit, v;hen 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: for He shall take 
 of mine and shall declare it unto you. All things 
 
34 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 ac<;ept as his possible course of 
 action. What is to render our conduct uniformly Christ- 
 like? Will it be possible to reach the same conclusions 
 always in all cases?" asked President Marsh. 
 
 Henry Maxwell was silent some time. Then ho 
 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 in 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 toward the minis- 
 ter in solemn assent. There was no misunderstanding the 
 proposition. Henry Maxwell's face quivered again as he 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 25 
 
 noted the President of the Endeavor Society, with several 
 members, seated baclv of the older men and women. 
 
 They remained a little longer tallying 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 mani- 
 fest. 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 kneeled down. He remained there 
 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 wis- 
 dom. But not even yet did he realize that a movement 
 had been begun which would lead to the most remarkable 
 scries of events that the city of Raymond had ever known. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 "He that saith he abideth in Him ought himself also to walk 
 even as He walked." 
 
 Edward Normau, editor of the Raymond "Daily News," 
 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 another 
 week's rush and whirl of activity he confronted it with a 
 degree of hesitation and a feeling nearly akin to fear. Ha 
 had come down to the office very early and for a few min- 
 utes 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 the Spirit of Life was moving in 
 power through his own life as never before. He rose and 
 shut his door and then did what he had not done for years. 
 He kneeled 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 distinct 
 and clear in his mind. "Now for action," he 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 27 
 
 his desk in the adjoining room. One of the reporters there 
 was pounding out something on a type writer. 
 
 Edward Norman began an editorial. The "Daily News" 
 w^as an evening paper and Norman usually completed his 
 leading editorial before eight o'clock. 
 
 He had been writing about fifteen minutes when the man- 
 aging editor called out, "Here's this press report of yester- 
 day's prize fight at the Resort. It will make up three col- 
 umns 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. Sometimes as in this case it was 
 merelj- 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 think- 
 ing. 
 
 "We won't run this in to-day," he said finally. 
 
 The managing editor was standing in the doorway be- 
 tween the two rooms. He was astonished at the editor's 
 remark and thought he had perhaps misunderstood him. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 "Leave it out. We won't use it." 
 
 "But—" The managing editor was simply dumfounded. 
 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 any words with the chief. Norman's 
 Vvord had always been law in the ofiice and he had seldom 
 
38 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 been known to change his mind. The circumstances now, 
 however, seemed to be so extraordinary 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 man- 
 aging editor was a member of a church of a different de- 
 nomination 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 minute. Then he said abruptly, 
 
 "Clark, if Christ were editing a daily paper do you hon- 
 estly think he would print three columns and a half of 
 prize fight in i1 ?" 
 
 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 "News." I have decided not to do a thing in 
 connection with the paper for a whole year that I hon- 
 eslly believe Jesus would not do." 
 
 Clark could not have looked more amazed if the chief had 
 suddenly gone crazy. In fact, he did think something was 
 wrong, though Mr. Norman was one of the last men in the 
 world, in his judgment, to lose his mind. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 29 
 
 "What effect will that have ou 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 now-a-days on any such basis. It's too ideal. The 
 world isn't ready for it. You can't make it pay. Just 
 as sure as you live, if you shut out this prize fight report 
 you will lose ^mndreds of subscribers. It doesn't take a 
 prophet to say that. The very 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." 
 
 Edward Norman sat silent a 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 
 every one the probable action of Jesus? Would you say 
 that the highest best law for a man to live by was con- 
 tained in asking the question, 'What would Jesus do?' and 
 then doing it regardless of results? In other words do you 
 think men everywhere ought to follow Jesus' example as 
 close as they can in their daily lives?" 
 
 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 
 
30 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 it pay? To succeed in the newspaper business we have got 
 to conform to the customs and the recognized methods of 
 society. We can't do as we would do in an ideal world." 
 
 "Do you mean that Ave can't run the paper strictly on 
 Christian principles and malie 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 vei*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 every- 
 thing connected with the paper after answering the ques- 
 tion, 'What would Jesus do?' as 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. 'J'here 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 considerablj'- enraged. 
 His great respect for Norman checked his rising indigna- 
 tion and disgust, but with it all was a feeling of growing 
 wonder at the sudden change of motive which had entered 
 the office of the "Daily News" and threatened as he firmly 
 believed, to destroy it. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 81 
 
 Before noon every reporter, pressman and employe on 
 the "Daily News" was informed of the remarkable fact 
 thai the paper was going to press without a word in it 
 about the famous prize fight of Sunday. The reporters 
 were simply astonished beyond measure at the an- 
 nouncement of the fact. Every one in the stereotyping 
 and composing rooms had something to say about the un- 
 heard 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 w^as 
 being observed strangely and said nothing, and did not ap- 
 pear to note it. 
 
 There had been several changes in the paper suggested 
 by the editor, but nothing marked. He w'as waiting, and 
 thinking deeply. He felt as if he needed time and con- 
 siderable 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 
 contrary to the spirit of Christ that he did not act at once, 
 but because he w^as yet greatly in doubt concerning 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 sub- 
 scribers, eagerly opened the paper and searched it through 
 for the account of the great fight. Not finding it, they 
 rushed to the news stand and bought other papers. Even 
 the new^sboys had not all understood the fact of the omis- 
 
82 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 sion. One of them was calling out, "Daily News! Full 'count 
 great prize fight 't Resort. News, Sir!" 
 
 A man on the corner of the Avenue close by the "News" 
 office bought the paper, looked over its front page hur- 
 riedly and then angrily called the boy back. 
 
 "Here boy! What's the matter with your paper! There 
 is no prize fight here! What do you mean by selling old 
 papers?" 
 
 "Old papers, nuthin!" replied the boy indignantly. "Dat's 
 to-day's paper. What's de matter wid 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 bewildering look 
 crept over his face. Seeing another boy running by with 
 papers he called out, "Say, Sam, lemme see your pile!" A 
 hasty examination revealed the remarkable fact that all 
 the copies of the "News" were silent on the prize fight. 
 
 "Here, give me another paper! One with the prize fight 
 account!" shouted the customer. He received it and walked 
 off, while the two boys remained comparing notes and lost 
 in 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 "News" 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 of the long counter 
 would have driven any one else to despair. He was used 
 to more or less of it all the time and consequently hard- 
 ened to it. 
 
 Mr. Norman was just coming down stairs on his way 
 home and he paused as he went by the door of the delivery 
 room and looked in. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 33 
 
 "What's the matter here, George?" he asked the clerk 
 as he noted the unusual confusion. 
 
 "The boys say they can't sell any copies of the 'News' 
 to-night because the prize fight is not in it," replied 
 George looking curiously at the editor as so many of the 
 employes had done during the day. 
 
 Mr. Norman l.esitated a moment, then walked into the 
 room and confronted the boys. 
 
 "How many papers are there 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 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 fra- 
 ternity ?" 
 
 Mr. Norman smiled slightly but he did not think it was 
 necessary to answer the question. He walked out of the 
 oflBce and went home. On the way he could not avoid that 
 constant query, "\rould 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 or some- 
 
84 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 thing similar in order to be free from any possible feeling 
 of injustice. He was not deciding these questions for any 
 one else but for his own conduct. He was not in a position 
 to dogmatize and he felt that he could answer only with his 
 own judgment and conscience as to his interpretation of 
 Jesus' probable action. The falling off in sales of the 
 paper he had in a certain measure foreseen. But he was 
 yet to realize the full extent of the loss to the paper if 
 such a policy should be continued. 
 
 During the w^eek he was in receipt of numerous letters 
 commenting on the absence from the "News" of the account 
 of the prize fight. Two or three of these letters may be of 
 interest. 
 
 Editor of the "News." 
 Dear Sir: 
 I have been deciding for some time to change my paper. I 
 want a journal that is up to the times, progressive and enterpris- 
 ing, supplying the pubhc demand at all points. The recent freak 
 of your paper in refusing to print the account of the famous con- 
 test at the Resort has decided me iinaily to change my paper. 
 Please discontinue it. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 (Here followed the name of a business man who had 
 been a subscriber for many years.) 
 
 Edward Norman. 
 
 Editor of the "Daily News": Kaymond. 
 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 prize fights and such. Give it what 
 it wants and iet some one else do the Reforming business. 
 
 Yours, . — , 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 35 
 
 (Here followed the namo of one of Norman's old friends, 
 the editor of a daily in an adjoining town.) 
 
 My dear Mr. Norman: 
 
 I liasten to Avrite you a note of appreciation for the evident 
 carrying out of your promise. It is a splendid beginning and no 
 one feels the value of it better than I do. I know something of 
 what it will cost you, but not all. 
 
 Your Pastor, 
 
 Henry 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 News: 
 
 Dear Sir. 
 At the expiration of my advertising limit you will do me the 
 favor not to continue as you have done heretofore. I enclose 
 check for payment in full and shall consider my account with 
 your paper closed after date. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 (Here followed the name of one of the largest dealers 
 in Tobacco in the city. He had been in the habit of insert- 
 ing 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 toolv up a copy of his 
 paper and looked through the advertising columns. There was 
 no connection implied in the tobacco merchant's letter be- 
 tween the omission of the prize fight and the withdrawal 
 of the advertisement. But he could not avoid putting the 
 two together. In point of fact, he afterwards learned that 
 the tobacco dealer withdrew his advertisement because he 
 bad heard that the editor of the "News" was about to enter 
 
36 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 upon some queer reform policy that would be certain to 
 reduce its subscription list. 
 
 But the letter directed Norman's attention to the adver- 
 tising 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 with that other long 
 advertisement of liquor.? Raymond enjoyed a system 
 of high license, and the saloon and the billiard hall 
 and the beer garden were a part of the city's Christian 
 civilization. He was simply doing what every other busi- 
 ness man in Raymond did. And it was one of the best 
 paying sources of revenue. What would the paper do if 
 It cut these out? Could it live? That was the question. 
 But— was that the question after all? "What would Jesus 
 do?" That was the question he was answering, or trying 
 to answer, this week. Would Jesus advertise 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 office. 
 
 Clark came in feeling that the paper was at a crisis 
 and prepared for almost anything after his Monday morn- 
 ing experience. This was Thursday. 
 
 "Clark," said Norman, speaking slowly and carefully, 
 "I 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 the adver- 
 tising 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. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 37 
 
 "This will mean a great loss to the 'News.' How long 
 do you think j'ou can keep this sort of thing up?" Clark 
 was astonished at the editor's action and could not under- 
 stand it. 
 
 "Clark, do you think if Jesus were the editor and pro- 
 prietor of a daily paper in Raymond he would print adver- 
 tisements of whisky and tobacco in it?" 
 
 Clark looked at his chief with that same look of aston- 
 ishment which had greeted the question before. 
 
 "Well— no— I don't suppose he would. But what 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 he 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 
 1 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 this age, of whisky and 
 tobacco in a newspaper. There are some other advertise- 
 ments of a doubtful character I shall study into. Mean- 
 while 1 feel a conviction in regard to these that cannot be 
 silenced." 
 
 Clark went back to his desk feeling as if he had been 
 
38 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 con- 
 fusion. It was simply foolishness. It was downright 
 idiocj'. 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? AYas he insane? Was he going 
 to 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 program for the Sunday 
 morning edition. The "News" was one of the few even- 
 ing 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, theater, gossip, fashion, society 
 and political material. This made a very interesting maga- 
 zine of all sorts of reading matter and had always been 
 welcomed by all the subscribers, church members and all, 
 as a Sunday necessity. 
 
 Edward Norman now faced this fact and put to him- 
 self the question, "What would Jesus do?" If he were edi- 
 tor of a paper would he deliberately plan to put into the 
 homes of 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 to something better and 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 39 
 
 holier? He was of course familiar with the regular argu- 
 ment for the Suuday paper that the public needed some- 
 thing of the sort and the working man, especially, who would 
 not go to church any way, ought to have something enter- 
 taining and instructive on Sunday, his only day of rest. 
 But suppose the Sunday morning paper did not pay? Sup- 
 pose there was no money in it? Hoav eager would the edi- 
 tor 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 "News" 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 was sole pro- 
 prietor of the paper. It was 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 some definite conclusions. 
 And 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 the other men in the oflice, 
 Including the few reporters who were in the building and 
 the foreman, with what men were in the composing room, 
 (it was early in the morning and they were not all in) to 
 come into the mailing room. This was a large room, and 
 
40 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 the men came in, wondering, 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 prin- 
 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 the "News." I propose certain changes which I 
 believe are necessary. I 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 con- 
 scious. 
 
 "Now in acting on this standard of conduct I have 
 reached a conclusion which will, no doubt, cause some sur- 
 prise. I have decided that the Sunday morning edition of 
 the "News" shall be discontinued after next Sunday's issue. 
 I shall state in that Issue my reasons for discontinuing. In 
 order to make up to the subscribers the amount of read- 
 ing matter they may suppose themselves entitled to, we 
 can issue a double number on Saturday, as is done by very 
 many evening papers that make no attempt at a Sunday 
 edition. 1 am convinced that, from a Christian 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 nor the press men need make any 
 particular changes in their plans." 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 41 
 
 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 waj'. 
 "Would Jesus do that? That is, would He probably run a 
 newspaper on some loving family plan where editors, 
 reporters, pressmen and all, met to discuss and devise and 
 plan for 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 office and the men had 
 gone back to their places with wonder in their looks and 
 questions of all sorts on their tongues as they talked over 
 the editor's remarkable actions. 
 
 Clark came in and had a long serious talk with the 
 chief. He was thoroughly roused and his protest almost 
 reached the point of resigning his place. Norman guarded 
 himself carefully. PJvery 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 difficult to fill his place. But he was not 
 able to give any reasons for continuing the Sunday paper 
 that answered the question, "What would Jesus do?" by 
 letting Jesus print that edition. 
 
 "It comes to this, then," said Clark 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" 
 
42 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 until it is bankrupt?" asked Edward Normau with a 
 strauge 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 remark- 
 able 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?" 
 
 Clark hesitated a moment and finally said, yes. Nor- 
 man shook hands with him and turned to his desk. Clark 
 went back into his room stirred by a number of conflicting 
 emotions. He had never before known such an exciting 
 and mentally" disturbing week, and he felt now as if he 
 were connected with an enterprise that might at any 
 moment collapse and ruhi him 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 the "News" con- 
 taining the statement of its discontinuance had been read 
 by nearly every man in the house. The announcement 
 had been expressed in such remarkable language that every 
 reader was struck by it. No such series of distinct sensa- 
 tions had ever disturbed the usual business custom of Ray- 
 mond. 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 Rail- 
 road 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 48 
 
 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 probably say?" It is very certain tliat 
 Henry Maxwell did not preach as he had done two Sundays 
 before. Tuesday of the past week he had stood by the 
 grave 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 as 
 he thought of his people and yearned for the Christ mes- 
 sage when he should be in his pulpit again. 
 
 Now that Sunday had come and the people were there 
 to hear, ^vhat would the Master tell them? He agonized 
 over his preparation for them and yet he knew he had not 
 been able 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 Mealth 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 car- 
 ried people's hearts into a reverent silence and tenderness 
 of thought? Rachel was beautiful. But the consciousness 
 of her remarkable loveliness had always marred her sing- 
 
44 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ing 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 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 anj' 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 aston- 
 ishment it was almost filled. This time a large proportion 
 of young people had 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 pres- 
 ence of the Divine Spirit. There was no doubt in the minds 
 of any one present that what they proposed 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 consult 
 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. 
 
 "What will be the probable result of your discontin- 
 uance 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 45 
 
 you regret it or fear it is not what Jesus would do?" aslied 
 Henry Maxwell. 
 
 "Not in the least. But I would lilie to asli for my own 
 satisfaction, if any one of you here thinlis 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. Every one 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 studying 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 in the room were thinking hard of the same thing. 
 Milton Wright told something of his experience. He was 
 gradually working out a plan for his business relations 
 with his employes and it was opening up a new world to 
 
46 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 him and them. A few of the younger men told of special 
 attempts to answer the question. There was almost gen- 
 eral consent over the fact that the application of the Jesus 
 spirit and practice to every day 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. 
 
 When they finally adjourned after a silent prayer that 
 marked with growing power the Divine Presence, they 
 went away discussing earnestly their difficulties and seek- 
 ing light from one another. 
 
 Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page went out together. 
 Edward Norman and Milton Wright became so interested 
 in their mutual conference that they walked on past Nor- 
 man's home and came back together. Jasper Chase and 
 the President of the Endeavor Society stood talking earn- 
 estly 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 
 see my plan and talk to the men. Somehow I feel as if 
 you could get nearer to them than any one else just now." 
 
 "I don't know about that, but I will come," replied 
 Henry Maxwell a little sadly. How was he fitted ^o stand 
 before two or three hundred working men and give them 
 a message? Yet in the moment of his weakness, as he 
 asked the question, he rebuked himself for it. What would 
 Jesus do? That was an end to the discussion. 
 
 He went down the next day and found Alexander Pow- 
 ers in his office. It lacked a few minutes of twelve and the 
 Superintendent said, "Come up stairs, and I'll show you 
 what I've been trying to do." 
 
 T»hey went through the machine shops, climbed a long 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 47 
 
 flight of stairs and entered a very large cmptj' 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," said the Superintendent, 
 "and among them is this: Our company gives me the use 
 of this room and I am going to fit it up with tables and a 
 colfee 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 such 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 as 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 lit- 
 tle 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 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 gen- 
 uine fright over the prospect. He actually felt afraid of 
 
48 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 facing these men. He shrank from the ordeal of confront- 
 ing such a crowd, so different from the Sunday audiences 
 he was familiar with. 
 
 There were half a dozen long rude tables and benches 
 in the great room, and when the noon whistle sounded the 
 men poured up stairs from the machine shop below and 
 seating themselves at the tables began to eat their lunch. 
 There were perhaps three hundred of them. They had 
 read the Superintendent's notice which he had posted up 
 in various places, and came largely out of curiosity. 
 
 They were favorably impressed. The room was large 
 and airy, free from smoke and dust and well warmed from 
 the steam pipes. 
 
 About twenty minutes of one, Alexander Powers told 
 the men what he had in mind. He spoke very simply, like 
 one who understands thoroughly the character of his audi- 
 ence, and then introduced the Rev. Henry Maxwell of the 
 First Church, his pastor, who had consented to speak a few 
 minutes. 
 
 Henry Maxwell will never forget the feelings with 
 which for the first time he confronted that grimy-faced 
 audience of working men. Like hundreds of other minis- 
 ters he had never spoken to any gathering except those 
 made up of people of his own class in the sense that they 
 were familiar, in their dress and education and habits, to 
 him. This was 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 
 life; what caused it; what its real sources were. He had 
 the great good sense on this first appearance not to recog- 
 nize the men as a class distinct from himself. He did not 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 49 
 
 use the term "working men," and did not say a word to 
 suggest any difference between tlieir lives and bis own. 
 
 The men were pleased. A good many of them shook 
 hands with him before going down to their work, and 
 Henry Maxwell telling it 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 labor. The day marked an important one in his 
 Christian experience, more important than he knew. It 
 was the beginning of a fellowship between him and the 
 working world. It was the first plank laid down to help 
 bridge the chasm between the church and labor in Ray 
 mond. 
 
 Alexander Powers went back to his desk that afternoon 
 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 anticipated and the w^hole 
 thing could not help being a great benefit to them. 
 
 He took up the routine of his work with a glow of satis- 
 faction. After all, he wanted to do as Jesus would, he said 
 to himself. 
 
 It was nearly four o'clock when he opened one of the 
 compnuy's long envelopes which he supposed contained 
 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 ovier a pa®e mechanically, not meaning to 
 
50 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 read what was not addressed to him, but. before he knew 
 it, he was in possession of evidence which conclusively 
 proved that the company was engaged in a systematic vio- 
 lation of the Interstate Commerce Laws of the United 
 States. It was as distinct and unequivocal 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 bj^ the legislature to prevent railroad trusts. 
 There was no question that he held in his hand evidence 
 sufficient to convict the company of willful, intelligent viola- 
 tion 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 question out. 
 He tried to reason with himself by saying it was none of his 
 business. He had supposed in a more or less indefinite 
 way as did nearlv all of 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 entering 
 his neighbor's house to steal would it not be his duty to 
 inform the officers 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 undisturbed because it was such a gi-eat organiza- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 51 
 
 tion? What would Jesus do? Then there was his family. 
 Of course if he took anj^ steps to inform the Commission it 
 would mean the loss of his position. His wife and daugh- 
 ters had always enjoyed luxury and a good place in society. 
 If he came out against this lawlessness as a witness it 
 would drag him into courts, his motives would be misun- 
 derstoof"* 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 
 business where there was so much going on any way that 
 made it impossible to live by the Christian standard? 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 whir 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 passed 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 engineer and his 
 assistants had work for half an hour, but they went out 
 at another door. 
 
 At seven o'clock that evening any one who had looked 
 
52 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 into the Superintendent's office would have seen an unusual 
 sight. He was kneeling down and his face was buried in 
 his hands as he bowed his head upon the papers on his 
 desk. 
 
CHAPTER IIL 
 
 "If any iiiau cometh unto.meand hatetli not his own father and 
 mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea, and 
 liis own life also, he cannot be my disciple." * * * "And who- 
 soever forsaketh not all that 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. Vir- 
 ginia 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 v\'ere soon talking earnestly. 
 
 "The fact is," Rachel was saying, after they had been 
 talking a few minutes, "I cannot reconcile it with my judg- 
 ment of what He would do. I cannot tell another person 
 what to do, but 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 agam. It was a letter from 
 the manager of a comic opera offering her a place with a 
 large traveling company for the season. The salary was 
 a very large figure, and the prospect held out by the mana- 
 ger was flattering. He had heard Rachel sing that Sun- 
 day morning when the stranger had interrupted the serv- 
 ice. He had been much impressed. There was money 
 
54 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 in that voice and it 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 saying No to this offer when I 
 have the other one," Rachel went on thoughtfully. "That's 
 harder to decide. But I've about made up my mind. To 
 tell the truth, Virginia, 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 a reputable company to travel with an 
 impersonator and a violinist and a male quartette. All 
 people of good reputation. I'm asked to go as one of the 
 company and sing leading soprano. The salary— I men- 
 tioned 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?" 
 
 "You mustn't ask me to decide for you," replied Vir- 
 ginia with 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 and stood 
 by her. The street was crowded with life and the two 
 young women looked at it silently for 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 55 
 
 eating and having a good time, giving and receiving enter- 
 tainments, spending its money on liouses and luxuries and, 
 occasionally, to ease its conscience, donating, witliout any 
 personal sacrifice, a little money to charity. I have been 
 educated, as yo.u have, in one of the most expensive schools 
 of America. Launched into society as an heiress. Sup- 
 posed 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 condemna- 
 tion for being one of the most wicked, selfish, useless crea- 
 tures in the world. I have not loolvcd out of this window 
 for weeks without a feeling of horror towards myself as I 
 see the humanity that pours by this house." 
 
 Virginia turned away and walked up and down the 
 room. Rachel watched her and could not repress the ris- 
 ing tide of her own growing definition of discipleship. 
 Of what Christian use was her own talent of song? Was 
 Ihe 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 her- 
 self capable of. And Virginia— what she had just said 
 smote Rachel with great force because of the similar posi- 
 tion in which the two friends found themselves. 
 
56 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Lunch was announced and they went out and were 
 joined by Virginia's grandmother, Madam Page, a hand- 
 some, stately ^Yoman 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 jDarticular 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 be at home. 
 
 These three made up the Page family. Virginia's father 
 had been a banlier and grain speculator. Her mother had 
 died ten years before. Her father within the past year. 
 The grandmother, a Southern woman in birth and train- 
 ing, 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 average ability. The family property 
 and wealth were invested, in large measure, under her per- 
 sonal care. Virginia's portion was, without any restriction, 
 her own. She had been trained by her father to under- 
 stand the ways of the business world, and even the grand- 
 mother had been compelled to acknowledge the girl's capac- 
 ity 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 home 
 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. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 67 
 
 *'I understaud that you are going on the stage, Miss 
 Winslow. We shall all be delighted, I'm sure," said Rol- 
 lin, during one of the pauses in the conversation which had 
 not been animated. 
 
 Rachel colored and felt annoyed. 
 
 "Who told you?" she asked, while Virginia, who had 
 been ^'ery 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, every 
 one 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 some- 
 thing better to hear." 
 
 Rachel did not color 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, I say, that the general public outside of Ray- 
 mond cannot hear her voice." 
 
 "Let us talk about something else," said Rachel a lit- 
 tle sharply. Madam Page glanced at her and spoke with 
 a gentle courtesy. 
 
 "My dear, Rollin never could pay an indirect compli- 
 ment. He is like his father in that. But we are all curi- 
 ous to know something of your plans. We claim the right 
 
58 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 from old acquaintance, you know. And Virginia had already 
 told us of your concert company offer." 
 
 "I supposed of course tliat was public property," said 
 Virginia, smiling across the table. "It was in the "News" 
 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 conversation 
 had, uj) to this point, been narrowing her hesitation concern- 
 ing the company's offer down to a decision that would abso- 
 lutely satisfy her own judgment 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 mat- 
 ter. 
 
 "Would you mind telling us, Rachel, your reasons for 
 refusing the offer? It looks like a good opportunity 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 Avith all her repression there was possible in her an occa- 
 sional 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 attractiveness of her whole character. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 59 
 
 "I have no other reason 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 color 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, j'ou know we promised to make that the 
 standard of our conduct for a year. Mr. Maxwell's propo- 
 sition 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 perplexed Rachel and 
 me a good deal." 
 
 Madam Page looked sharplj- at Virginia before she said 
 anything. 
 
 "Of course, I understand Mr. Maxwell's statement. It 
 is perfectly impracticable to put it into practice. I felt con- 
 fident 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 sharpness that was new 
 to Rachel,) "I hope you have no foolish notions in this mat- 
 ter, Virginia." 
 
 "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 the library for a cigar." 
 
 He went out of the dining room and there was silence 
 
60 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 formidable, although checked 
 in some measure by the presence of RacheL 
 
 "I am older by several years than you, young ladies," 
 she said, and her traditional type of bearing seemed to 
 Rachel to rise up like a great frozen wall between her and 
 every conception of Jesus as a sacrifice. "What you have 
 promised in a spirit of false emotion, I presume, is impossi- 
 ble 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! 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?" 
 
 "1 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. 
 
 "O 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 something like it." 
 
 Rachel said something that contained a hint of the 
 struggle she "was still having. And after a little she went 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 61 
 
 away, feeling that her departure was to be followed by a 
 painful conversation betweenVirginia and her grandmother. 
 As she afterward learned Virginia passed through a crisis 
 of feeling during that scene with her grandmother that has- 
 tened her final decision as to the use of her money and her 
 social position. 
 
 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 
 Avalked 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 had 
 used each other's first 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 Rol- 
 lin after a pause. 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite often I" said Rachel with a smile. 
 
 "Are you thinking of me now?" 
 
 "Yes, that is— yes, I am." 
 
62 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Do you want me to be absolutely truthful?'- 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Then I was thinking that I wished you were not 
 here." 
 
 Kollin bit his lip and looked gloomy. Rachel had not 
 spoken anything as he wished. 
 
 "Now look here, Rachel— Oh, I know that's forbidcfen, 
 but I've got to speak sometime; you know how I feel. What 
 makes you treat me so hard? You used to like me a little, 
 you know." 
 
 "Did 1? 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 p^-eoccupied with her plan which had been dis- 
 turbed by Rollin's appearance. 
 
 They walked along in silence a little way. The avenue 
 was full of people. Among the persons passing was Jas- 
 per 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 colored in spite of herself. She did not say any- 
 thing, and quickened her pace a little. Rollin seemed deter- 
 mined to say something and Rachel seemed helpless to pre- 
 vent 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 68 
 
 with a nervous laugh. She was shaken out of her usual 
 poise of manner. 
 
 "You linow what I mean," went on Rollin doggedly. 
 "And you have no right to laugh at me just because I 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 mean- 
 ing 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 conver- 
 sation as private as if they were in the house. 
 
 "Would you—that is~do you think— if you gave me 
 time I would—" 
 
 "Nc!" said Rachel. She 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 Hearing Rachel's home and she was anxious to end 
 the scene. 
 
 As they turned off the avenue into one of the quiet 
 streets, Rollin spoke suddenly and with more manliness 
 than he had yet shown. There was a distinct note of dig- 
 nity in his voice that was new to Rachel. 
 
 "J^Iiss 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 towards you as a woman ought to feel 
 towards the man she ought to marry." 
 
64 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "In other words you do not love me?" 
 
 "I do not. And I cannot." 
 
 "Why?" That was another question and Rachel was 
 a little 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 in such a life to attract 
 a woman?" 
 
 "Not much, I guess," said Rollin with a little laugh. 
 "Still, I don't know as 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 hat, 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 her- 
 self 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 triumphs in the musical world. What 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 65 
 
 possible career was before her except the regular career 
 of every singer? 
 
 She asked the questiou again and, in the light of her 
 recent reply to Rollin, asked again if she had any very great 
 purpose in life herself? What 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 sim- 
 ply 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 down 
 stairs, resolved to have a frank talk vv'lth 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, as 
 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 j'ounger than Rachel, was ready to graduate from a 
 military academy in the summer. Meanwhile she and 
 Rachel were at home together. Rachel's father, like Vir- 
 ginia's had died while the family were abroad. Like Vir- 
 ginia she found herself, under her present rule of conduct, 
 in complete antagonism -^ith her own immediate home circle. 
 
66 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 con- 
 sistent with our present day surroundings. But what has 
 that to do with your decision in the concert company's mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 "It has everything to do 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?" Mrs. Winslow had not yet lost her tem- 
 per. She did not understand the situation, nor Rachel in 
 the midst of it, but she was anxious that her daughter'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 WOULD JESUS DO?" 67 
 
 "What? Something that will serve mankind where it 
 most 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 sing- 
 ing myself into the career of a concert company per- 
 former." 
 
 Rachel spoke with a vigor and earnestness that sur- 
 prised her mother. Mrs. Winslow 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 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 
 my question." 
 
 "I shall continue to sing for the time being in the 
 church. I am pledged to sing there through spring. During 
 
68 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the week, I am going to sing at the White Cross meetings 
 down in the Rectangle." 
 
 "What! Rachel Winslow! 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 meetings. 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 some- 
 thing in the way of sacrifice. I know you will not under* 
 stand 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 we denied ourselves or given 
 of our personal ease and pleasure to bless the place in 
 which we live or imitate the life of the Savior 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 woul?! 
 say something more and then went out of the room. When 
 she reached her own room she felt that, so far as her 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? 69 
 
 mof-er was coneernecl, she could expect do sympathy oi" 
 eveD 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 dur- 
 ing 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 down stairs 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. 
 I 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. Winslow did not say anything. Her manner 
 showed her complete disapproval of Rachel's course and 
 Rachel felt her unspoken bitterness. 
 
 About seven o'clock the Doctor and Virginia appeared, 
 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 Rail- 
 road Shops and the packing houses. The slum and tene- 
 ment district of Raymond congested its most wretched ele- 
 ments about the Rectangle. This was a barren field used 
 in the summer by circus companies and wandering show- 
 men. It was shut in by rows of saloons, gambling hells, 
 and cheap, dirty boarding and lodging houBes. 
 
 The First Church of Raymond had never touched the 
 
70 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Rectangle problem. It was too dirty, too coarse, too sinful, 
 too awful for close contact. Let us be honest. There had 
 been an attempt to cleanse this sore spot by sending down 
 an occasional committee of singers, of Sunday-school teach- 
 ers, 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 devil as the years went by. 
 
 Into this heart of the coarse part of the sin of Raymond, 
 the traveling evangelist and his brave little wife had 
 pitched a good sized tent and begun meetings. It was the 
 spring of the year and the evenings were beginning to be 
 pleasant. The evangelists had aslied for the help of Chris- 
 tian 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 jusi 
 gone, the assistant at the organ had been talien ill. The 
 \ olunteers from the city were few and the voices of ordi- 
 nary quality. 
 
 "There will be a small meeting to-night, John," said his 
 wife, as they entered the tent a little after seven o'clocli 
 and began to arrange the chairs and light up. 
 
 "Yes, I think so." Mr. Gray was a small energetic man 
 with a pleasant voice and the courage of a high-born fighter. 
 He had already made friends in the neighborhood and one 
 of his converts, a heavy faced man who had just come in. 
 began to help in the arrangement of the seats. 
 
 It was after eight o'clock when Alexander Powers 
 opened the door of his ofiice and started to go home. He 
 was going to take a car at the corner of the Rectangle. Bat 
 as he neared it he was roused by a voice coming from the 
 tent. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 71 
 
 It was the voice of Rachel "Winslow. It struck through 
 his coDsciousuess of struggle over his own question that 
 had sent him into the Divine presence for an answer. He 
 had not yet reached a conclusion. He was troubled with 
 uncertainty. Plis whole previous course of action as a rail- 
 road man was the poorest possible preparation for anything 
 sacrificial. And he could not yet say what he would do 
 in the matter. 
 
 Hark! What was she singing? How did Rachel Wins- 
 low happen to be down here? Several windows near by 
 went up. Some men quarreling in a saloon stopped and 
 listened. Other figures were walking rapidly in the direc- 
 tion of the Rectangle and the tent. 
 
 Surely Rachel Winslow never was happier in her life. 
 She never had sung like that in the First Church. It was 
 a marvelous 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, impure life of the Rectangle 
 stirred itself into new life, as the song, as pure as the sur- 
 roundings were vile, floated out into saloon and den and 
 foul lodging. Some one stumbling hastily by Alexander 
 Powers said in answer 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 
 
72 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 he stopped. And after a moment of indecision he went 
 on to the corner and took the car for 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. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "If anj^ man would come after me, let him deny himself and 
 
 lake up his cross daily and follow me." 
 
 Henry 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 evan- 
 gelist's tent just showed over the buildings around the Rec- 
 tangle. 
 
 The pastor of the First Church looked out of this win- 
 dow 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 let- 
 ters the following: 
 
 A NUMBER OF THINGS THAT JESUS WOULD PROBABLY 
 DO IN THIS PARISH. 
 
 1. 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 
 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 denial and suffering. 
 
 5. Preach against the saloon in Raymond. 
 
74 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 6. Become known as a friend and companion of the sinful peo- 
 ple in the Rectangle. 
 
 7. Give up the summer trip to Europe this j^ear. (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 the city.) 
 
 8. What else would Jesus do as Henry INTaxwell? 
 
 He was conscious, with a humility that once was a 
 stranger to him, that his outline of Jesus' probable action 
 was painfully lacking in depth and power, but he was seek- 
 ing carefully for concrete shapes into which he might cast 
 his thought of Jesus' conduct. Nearly every point he had 
 put down, meant, for him, a complete 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 to catch more and more of the 
 spirit of Jesus in his own life. He had forgotten the par- 
 ticular 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. 
 
 •'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 peo- 
 ple." 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 76 
 
 •Tve 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. I am suffering 
 with a severe cold. I do not dare to trust my voice again. 
 I know it is asking a good deal for 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 Ije 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 was touched 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 Rec- 
 tangle. 
 
 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 refresh 
 Ing to his heart and mind alike. 
 
 So that is how It came about that when the First 
 
76 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Church audience came iuto 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 morn- 
 ing, 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 1 were called to go down there to-night, 
 and I will 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 vex him as he went on his way, but it was sim- 
 ply a part of his whole new conception of the meaning of 
 Christian discipleship. 
 
 When he and his 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 77 
 
 chorus, not a foot of standing room was left in the tent. 
 The night was mild and the sides of the tent were up and 
 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 pas- 
 tors who was present, Gray stated the reasons for his ina- 
 bility to speak, and in his simple manner turned the service 
 over to "Brother Maxwell of the First Church." 
 
 "Who's de bloke?" asked a hoarse voice near the out- 
 side of the tent. 
 
 "De P'ust 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 life line 'cross de dark wave!"' began a 
 drunken man near by, singing in such an unconscious imita- 
 tion of a local traveling singer's nasal tone that roars of 
 laughter and jeers of approval rose around him. The peo- 
 ple 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! 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 Maxwell 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 
 « sad smile. 
 
78 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "Sing something, Miss Winslow. They will listen to 
 you," he said, and then sat down 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 Kachel asked her to 
 play a few notes of the hymn, 
 
 "Savior, I follow on, 
 
 Guided by Thee, 
 
 Seeing not yet the hand 
 
 That leadeth me; 
 
 Hushed be my heart and still. 
 
 Fear I no farther ill, 
 
 Only to meet thy will, 
 
 My will shall be." 
 
 Kachel had not sung the first line before the people in 
 the tent were all turned towards her, hushed and reverent. 
 Before she had finished the verse the Rectangle was sub- 
 dued and tamed. It lay like some wild beast at her feet 
 and she sang it Into harmlessness. Ah! What were the 
 flippant, perfumed, critical audiences in concert halls com- 
 pared with this dirty, drunken, impure, degraded, besotted 
 humanity that trembled and wept and grew strangely, 
 sadly thoughtful, 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 79 
 
 stared at the swell in the fine 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." What 
 had the multitude been to him during his ten years in the 
 First Church, but a vague, dangerous, dirty, troublesome 
 factor in society, outside of the church and his reach, an 
 element that caused him, occasionally, an unpleasant feel- 
 ing of conscience; a factor in Raymond that w^as 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 faced the "masses," 
 he asked himself whether, after all, this was not just about 
 such a multitude as Jesus faced oftenest, and he felt the 
 genuine emotion of love for a crowd w^hich 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 pictur- 
 esque, or interesting. To love a multitude of siuners, is 
 distinctly a Christlike quality. 
 
 When the meeting closed, there was no special Interest 
 shown. The people rapidly melted aw^ay from the tent. 
 
80 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 and the saloons, which had been experiencing a dull sea- 
 son while the meetings progressed, again drove a thriving 
 trade. The Rectangle, as if to make up for lost time, 
 started in with vigor on its usual night-life of debauch. 
 Henry Max\vell and his little party, including Virginia, 
 Rachel, and Jasper Chase, wall^ed 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 
 stood waiting for their car. "I never realized that Ray- 
 mond had such a festering sore. It does not seem possible 
 that this is a city full of Christian disciples." 
 
 He paused and then continued: 
 
 "Do you think any one can ever remove this great curse 
 of the saloon? Why don't we all act together against the 
 traffic? What w^ould 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 
 license, and so had nearly all of his church members. 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 w^as not pop- 
 ular to preach against license? 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 sup- 
 pose the church members owned property where the 
 saloons stood— what then? He knew that these were the 
 facts in Raymond. What 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 thinking of it, and reaching certain real con- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 81 
 
 elusions, when the evening **News" came. His wife brought 
 it up, and sat down a few minutes while he read it to lier. 
 
 The "Evening News" was at present the most sensa- 
 tional paper in Raymond. That is to say, it was being 
 edited in such a remarliable fashion, that its subscribers 
 had never been so excited over a newspaper before. 
 
 First, they had noticed the absence of the prize tight, 
 and gradually it began to dawn upon them, tliat the 
 "News" no longer printed accounts of crime with detailed 
 descriptions, or scandals in private life. Then they noticed 
 that the advertisements of liquor and tobacco were being 
 dropped, together with certain other advertisements of a 
 questionable character. The discontinuance of the Sun- 
 day paper caused the greatest comment of all, and now the 
 character of the editorials was creating the greatest excite- 
 ment. 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 POIJTICAL QUESTIONS. 
 
 The editor of the 'News' has always advocated the princi- 
 ples of the great political party at present in power, and has, 
 therefore, discussed all political questions from a standpoint of 
 expediency, or of belief in the party, as opposed to other organi- 
 zations. Hereafter, to be perfectly honest with all our readers, 
 the editor will present and discuss political questions from the 
 standpoint of right and wrong. In other words, the first ques- 
 tion will not be, 'Is it in the interest of our party?' or 'Is it 
 according to the principles laid down by the party?' but the ques- 
 tion first asked will be, 'Is this measure in accordance with the 
 spirit and teachings of Jesus, as the author of the greatest 
 standard of life known to men?' That is, to be perfectly plain, 
 the moral side of every political question vvill be considered itn 
 most important side, and the ground will be dij-linctly l, ;;..;:. 
 
32 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 that nations, as well as individuals, are under the same law, to 
 do all things to the glory of God, as the first rule of action. 
 
 The same principle will be observed in this office towards 
 candidates for places of responsibility and trust in the Republic. 
 Regardless of party politics, the editor of the 'News' will do all 
 in his power to bring the best men into power, and will not, know- 
 ingly, help to support for office any candidate who is unworthy, 
 however much he may be endorsed by the party. The first ques- 
 tion asked about the man, as about the measure, -vvill be, 'Is he the 
 right man for the place? Is he a good man with ability?' 
 
 There had been more of this; but we have quoted 
 enough to show the character 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 well that he had actually lost already a large 
 number of valuable subscribers. He faced tha conditions 
 calmly, although Clark, the managing editor, grimly antici- 
 pated ultimate bankruptcy, especially since Monday's edi- 
 torial. 
 
 To-night, as Henry Maxwell read to his wife, he could 
 see on almost every column evidences of Norman's con- 
 scientious 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 columns that the reporters names appeared, 
 signed, at the bottom. And there was a distinct advance 
 in the dignity and style of their contributions. 
 
 "So Norman 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 83 
 
 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 some- 
 thing with the utmost interest. 
 
 "Listen to this, Mary," he said after a moment, while 
 his voice trembled: 
 
 This morning Alexander Powers, Superintendent of the 
 L. and T. R. R. shops in this city, handed his resignation to the 
 road, and gave as the reason the fact that certain proof had fal- 
 len into his liands 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 
 favored shippers. Mr. Powers states in his resignation that he 
 can no longer consistently withhold the information he possesses 
 against the road. He has placed his evidence against the com- 
 pany in the hands of the Commission, and it is now for them to 
 take action upon it. 
 
 The "News" wishes to express itself on this action of Mr. 
 Powers. In the first place, he has nothing to gain by it. He has 
 lost a valuable place, voluntarily, when, by keeping silent, he 
 might have retained it. In the second place, we believe his action 
 ought to receive the approval of all thoughtful, honest citizens, 
 who believe in seeing law obeyed and law-breakers brought to jus- 
 tice. In a case like this, where evidence against a railroad com- 
 pany is generally understood to be almost impossible to obtain, it 
 is the general belief that the officers of the road are often in pos- 
 session of criminating facts, but do not consider it to be any of 
 their business to inform the authorities that the law is being 
 defied. The entire result of this evasion of responsibility on 
 the part of those who are responsible, is demoralizing to every 
 young man connected with the road. The editor of the "News" 
 recalls the statement made by a prominent railroad official in this 
 city a little while ago, that nearly every clerk in a certain depart- 
 ment of the road who understood how large sums of money were 
 made by shrewd violations of the Interstate Commerce Law, w^as 
 ready to admire the shrewdness with which it was done, and 
 
84 TN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 say that such a condition of business 
 is destructive to all the nobler and higher standards of conduct; 
 and no young man can live in such an atmosphere of unpunished 
 dishonesty and lawlessness, without wrecking his charaoter. 
 
 In our judgment, Mr. Powers did the only thing that a 
 Christian man can do. He has rendered brave and useful service 
 to the state and the general public. It is not always an easy 
 matter to determine the relations that exist between the indi- 
 vidual citizen and his fixed duty to the public. In this case, 
 there is no doubt in our minds that the step which INIr. Powers 
 has taken commends itself to every man who believes in law and 
 its enforcement. There are times Avhen the individual must act 
 for the people, in ways that will mean sacrifice and loss to him 
 of the gravest character. Mr. Powers will be misunderstood and 
 misrepresented; but there is no question that his course will be 
 approved by every citizen who 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, Ave understand, is overwhelming proof of the laAvlessness 
 of the L. and T. Let the la\y be enforced, no matter who the 
 persons may be who have been guilty.' " 
 
 PleniT MaxAvell finished reading and dropped the paper. 
 
 "I 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 
 
 [* This was actually said in one of the General Offices of a 
 great western railroad, to the author's knowledge.] 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 85 
 
 understands that he is not deciding Jesus' conduct for any- 
 one else, only for himself." 
 
 "How about his family? How will Mrs. Powers and 
 Celia be liliely to talie it?" 
 
 "Very hard, I have no doubt. That will be Powers' s 
 cross in this matter. They will not understand his motive." 
 
 Henry Maxwell went out and wallied over to the next 
 block, where the Superintendent lived. To his relief, Pow- 
 ers himself came to the door. 
 
 The two men shooli 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 aslied, 
 after they had talked over the facts in the case. 
 
 "You mean another position? I have no plans yet. I 
 can go baclv to my old worli as a telegraph operator. My 
 family will not suffer except in a social way." 
 
 Alexander Powers spolie calmly, if sadly. Henry Max- 
 well did not need to asli him how his wife and daughter 
 felt. He knew well enough that the Superintendent had 
 suffered deepest at that point. 
 
 "There is one matter I wish j-ou 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 contradictions of the 
 railroad world that the Y. M. C. A.'s, and other Christian 
 influences, are encouraged by the roads, 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 Chris- 
 
86 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 tiau. So I have iiu doubt the Master Mechanic will have 
 the same courtesy extended to him that I had, in the mat- 
 ter of the room and its uses. But what I want you to do, 
 Mr. Maxwell, is to see that my plan is carried out. Will 
 jou? You understand what the idea was in general. You 
 made a very favorable 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 Superintendent had a 
 prayer together, and they parted with that silent hand- 
 grasp that seemed to them like a new token of their Chris- 
 tian discipleship and fellowship. 
 
 The pastor of the First Church went home stirred deep- 
 ly by the events of the week. Gradually the truth was 
 growing upon him that the pledge to do as Jesus would 
 Avas working out a revolution in his parish and throughout 
 the city. Every day added to the serious results of obe- 
 dience to that pledge. Henry Maxwell did not pretend to 
 see the end. He was, in fact, only now at the very begin- 
 ning of events that were destined to change the histoi^y 
 of hundreds of families, not only in Raymond but through- 
 out the entire country. As he thought of Edward Norman 
 and Eachel and Mr. Powers, and of the results that had 
 already come from their actions, he could not help a feel- 
 ing of intense interest in the probable effect, if all the per- 
 sons in the First Church who had made the pledge, faith- 
 fully 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 87 
 
 in his study, when the President of the Endeavor Society 
 called to see him. 
 
 "I suppose I ought not to trouble you with my ease," 
 said young Morris, coming at once to his errand, "but I 
 thought, Mr. Maxwell, that you might advise me a little." 
 
 •Tm glad you came. Go on, Fred." Henry Maxwell 
 had known the young man ever since his first year in the 
 pastorate, and loved and honored him for his consistent, 
 faithful service in the church. 
 
 "Well, the fact is, I'm out of a job. You linow I've 
 been doing reporter worli on the morning 'Sentinel' since I 
 graduated last year. Well, last Saturday Mr. Burr asl^ed 
 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 'News.' I refused to go, and 
 Burr gave me my dismissal. He was in a bad temper, or I 
 thinli perhaps he would not have done it. He has always 
 treated me well before. Now, don't you thinli Jesus would 
 have dene as I did? I asli because the other fellows say 
 I was a fool not to do the worli. I want to feel that a Chris- 
 tian acts from motives that may seem strange to others, 
 sometimes, but not foolish. What do you thinli?" 
 
 "I thinlj you Ivcpt your promise, Fred. I cannot believe 
 Jesus would do newspaper worli 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 on the young man's shoulder. 
 
 "What are you going to do, Fred?" 
 
88 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "I don't know yet. I have thought some of going to 
 Chicago, or some large city." 
 
 "Why don't you try the 'News'?" 
 
 ''They are all supplied, I have not thought of applying 
 there." 
 
 Henry Maxwell thought a moment. 
 
 "Come down to the 'News' 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 Max- 
 well briefly told the cause of their errand. 
 
 "I can give you a place on the 'News'," said Edward 
 Norman, with his keen look softened by a smile that made 
 it winsome. "Iwant 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 Maxwell 
 started back to his study, feeling tliat 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 
 be 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 new plans. Henry Maxwell 
 asked himself if this was the Milton Wright he used to 
 know, eminently practical, business-like, according to the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?'' 89 
 
 regular code of the business world, and viewing everything 
 first and foremost from the standpoint of "Will it pay?" 
 
 "There is no use to disguise the fact, Mr. Maxwell, 
 that I have been compelled to revolutionize the whole meth- 
 od 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 I 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 commision 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 ser- 
 mon without going back to his study. 
 
 "I think the first change I had to make was in my 
 thought of my employes. I came down here Monday morn- 
 ing after that Sunday and asked myself, 'What would Je- 
 sus 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 employes 
 together and having a talk with them. So I sent invita- 
 tions 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 I imagined 
 Jesus might. It was hard work, for I have not been in the 
 habit of it, and I must have made mistakes. But I ca)i 
 
90 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 hardly make you believe, Mr. Maxwell, 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 Tight now in the midst of a reconstructing 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 try- 
 ing to get information 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. 
 
 "I have sketched out what seems to me a program such 
 as Jesus might go by in a business like mine. I want you 
 to tell me what you think about it." 
 
 WHAT JESUS WOULD PROBABLY DO IN MILTON 
 WRIGHT'S PLACE AS A BUSINESS MAN. 
 
 1. He would engage in business for the purpose of glorifying 
 God, and not for the primary purpose of making money. 
 
 2. All money that might be made he would never regard as 
 his 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 most loving and helpful. He could not help thinking of them 
 all in the light of souls to be saved. This thought would always 
 be greater than his thought of making money in business. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 91 
 
 4. He wouIq never do a single dishonest or questionable thing 
 or try in anj^ 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 would shape the entire plan of his 
 relations to his employes, to the people who 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 bis thought of Jesus' probable action. He was very 
 thoughtful, as he looked up and met Milton Wright's eager 
 gaze. 
 
 "Do you believe you can continue to make your business 
 pay on those lines?" 
 
 "I do. Intelligent unselfishness ought to be wiser than 
 intelligent selfishness, don't you think? If the men who 
 work as employes 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?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. A good many other business men 
 don't, do they? 1 mean as a general thing. How about 
 your relations to the selfish world that 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 
 am studying out my details carefully. I am absolutely con- 
 vinced that Jesus in my place would be absolutely unselfish. 
 He would love all these men In his enjploy. He would 
 consider the main purpose of all the business to be a 
 
92 In his steps. 
 
 mutual helpfulness, and would conduct it all so that God's 
 kingdom would be evidently the first object sought. On 
 those general principles, as I say, I am working. I must 
 have time to complete the details." 
 
 When Henry Maxwell finally left Milton Wright, 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 employes 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 I0S.3 
 money by it, as was possible. 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. Nevertheless 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 disci- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 98 
 
 pleship? 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 audi- 
 ence. 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 Rec- 
 tangle 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 Rec- 
 tangle would not have acknowledged that it was growing any 
 better, or that even the singing had softened its conversa- 
 tion, or its outward manner. It had too much local pridf 
 in being "tough." But in spite of itself, there was a yield- 
 ing 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 Savior, all out of a perfectly 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 wonderful, 
 
94 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 char- 
 ity cases. Virginia was at the organ, Jasper sat on a 
 front seat looking up at Rachel, and the Rectangle swayed 
 as one man towards the 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, I come." 
 
 Gray hardly said a word. He stretched out his hand 
 with a gesture of invitation. And down the two aisles of 
 the tent, broken, sinful creatures, men and women, stum- 
 bled 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 sudden- 
 ness and power that was like nothing but a new birth. Vir- 
 ginia 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 95 
 
 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 harbor 
 of redemptive grace. 
 
CHAPTER V- 
 
 "If any man serve me, let him follow me." 
 
 It was nearly midnight before the service at the Rec- 
 tangle closed. Gray stayed up long into Sunday morning, 
 praying and talking with a little group of converts that, 
 in the great experience of their new life, clung to the evan- 
 gelist with a personal helplessness that made it as impossi- 
 ble for him to leave them as if they had been depending 
 upon him to save them from physical death. Among these 
 converts was Rollin Page. 
 
 Yirginia and her uncle had gone home about eleven 
 o'clock, and Eachel 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 moth- 
 er's. 
 
 That was a little after eleven. It was now striking mid- 
 night, 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 he^ and 
 she had not given her love in return. 
 
 It would be difficult to know what was most powerful 
 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 
 ] eachel would respond to his love for her. He tried to 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 97 
 
 recall, now, just the Impression sfie made on him when he 
 first 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 Avere once alone. 
 
 Now that he had spoken, he felt that he had misjudged 
 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 w^as 
 himself, and they had loved each other 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 between them, 
 wMth 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, a few days before, 
 he had met Rachel Avalking 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 con- 
 ceal 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." 
 
98 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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-night." 
 
 "Why— 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 great 
 .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 that. 
 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 cannot 
 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 of a joyous response to 
 his own love would have satisfied him. He could not think 
 of pleading with her. 
 
 "Some time— when I am more 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 99 
 
 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 with 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 feel- 
 ing 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 realized 
 that he was telling her of his love, she had felt a sudden 
 revulsion for him, as if he should have respected the super- 
 natural events they had just witnessed. She felt as if it 
 were not the time to be absorbed in anj'thing 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 the same towards him as she always had. What 
 was that feeling? What had he been to her? Had she 
 made a mistake? She went to her book-case and took out 
 
100 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the novel which Jasper had given her. Her face deepened 
 in color as she turned to certain passages which she had 
 read often and which she knew Jasper had written for 
 her. She read them again. Somehow they failed to 
 touch her stronglj-. 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. These 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 kneeling down to give itself to 
 a life of purity and Christlikeness— oh, it was surely a wit- 
 ness 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 cry- 
 ing with her arms about her brother just before she left 
 the tent, and Mr. Gray kneeling close by, and the girl Vir- 
 ginia had taken into her heart bending her head while Vir- 
 ginia 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 
 her room seemed for the time being to contain all the actors 
 and their movements. 
 
 "No I No!" She had said aloud. "He had no right to 
 speak to me after all that! He should have respected the 
 place where our thoughts should have been! I am sure 1 
 do not love him. Not enough to give him my life!" 
 
 And after she had thus spoken, the evening's experience 
 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS TtOV 101 
 
 Rectangle that Kachel 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 
 revolutionize many of the regular, customary habits of the 
 town. Alexander Powers's action in the matter of the 
 railroad frauds had created a sensation, not only in Ray- 
 mond but throughout the country. Edward Norman's 
 daily changes of policy in the conduct of his paper had star- 
 tled the community and caused more comment than any 
 recent political event. Rachel AVinslow'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. 
 In addition to these events which centered about these per- 
 sons who were so well known, there had been all through 
 the city, in very many homes and in business and social 
 circles, strange happenings. Nearly one hundred persons 
 in Henry :Maxweirs 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. As a 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 neighbor- 
 hood, together with the conversion of RoUin Page, the well- 
 known society and club man. 
 
102 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 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 dra- 
 matic delivery of his sermons no longer impressed 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 him- 
 self 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 cer- 
 tain 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 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 108 
 
 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 the evil influence of the saloon 
 in Kaymond. What new facts were tliere? He had no 
 startling illustrations of the power of the saloon in busi- 
 ness or politics. What could he say that had not been 
 said by temperance 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 con- 
 viction 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 license 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? AYas there one word to be said by the 
 Christian disciple, business man, professional man, citizen, 
 in favor 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 oftices, and 
 clean the municipality? How much had prayers helped to 
 make Kaymond better while votes and actions had really 
 
104 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 been on the side of the enemies of Jesus? Would not Jesus 
 do this? What disciple could imagine Him refusing to 
 suffer or take up His cross in the matter? How much had 
 the members of the First Church ever suffered in an 
 attempt to imitate Jesus? Was Christian discipleship 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 Trans- 
 figuration? 
 
 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 imi- 
 tation of Jesus which had begun with the volunteers in the 
 church was Avorking like leaven in the organization, and 
 Henry Maxwell would, even this 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 discipleship of two thousand years' 
 knowledge of the Master, many a man and woman in the 
 church was saying, as Rachel 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 disciple- 
 ship, and any others who wished to be included. The after- 
 service seemed now to be a necessity. As he went in and 
 
"WHAf'^-^OULD JESUS DO?" 105 
 
 faced the people there, his heart trembled. There were at 
 least t\\ 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 counseled together, and there were many prayers. 
 Henry Maxwell dated from that meeting some of the seri- 
 ous events that afterwards became a part of the history 
 of the First Church of Raymond. When finally they went 
 home, all of them were impressed 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 I made 
 my promise. I have tried to satisfy myself that he would 
 simply go on as I have done, tending to the duties of my 
 college, teaching the classes in Ethics and Philosophy. But 
 1 have not been able to avoid the feeling that he would do 
 something more. That something is what I do not want to 
 do. It will cause me genuine suffering to do it. I dreatl it 
 with all my soul. You may be able to guess what it is?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I know," Henry ^laxwell replied. "It is 
 my cross, too. I would almost rather do any thing else." 
 
106 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Donald Marsh looked surprised, then relieved. Then he 
 spoke sadly, but with great conviction. 
 
 "Maxwell, you and 1 belong to a class of professional 
 men w^ho have always avoided the duties of citizenship. 
 We have lived in a little world of scholarly seclusion, 
 doing work we have enjoyed, and shrinking from the dis- 
 agreeable duties that belong to the life of the citizen. I 
 confess with shame that I have purposely avoided the 
 responsibility that I owe to this city personally. I under- 
 stand 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 govern- 
 ment are concerned. Yet all these years I, 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, 
 whatever it is, towards the nomination and election 
 of good men, and plunge into the very depths of 
 this entire horrible Avhirlpool of deceit, bribery, 
 political trickery and saloonism as it exists in Ray- 
 mond 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 
 anything of the sort.' But I am more and more persuaded 
 that He Avould. 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 prob- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 107 
 
 lern. I would much prefer to remain quietly iu my scholas- 
 tic 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 j'our aristocratic feelings a little.' Max- 
 well, this is my cross. I must take it up or deny my 
 Lord." 
 
 "You have spoken for me also," replied Maxwell, with a 
 sad smile. "Why should I, simply because I am a clergy- 
 man, shelter myself behind my refined, sensitive feelings 
 and, like a coward, refuse to touch, except in a sermon pos- 
 sibly, the duty of citizeoship? I am unused to the ways 
 of the political life of the city. I have never taken an active 
 part in any nomination of good men. There are hundreds 
 of ministers like me. As a class, we do not practice, iu 
 tlie municipal life, the duties and privileges we preach from 
 the pulpit. What would Jesus do? I am now at a point 
 where, like you, I am driven to answer the question 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, intel- 
 lectual, self-contained habits of this open, coarse, public 
 fight for a clean city life. I could go and live at the Rec- 
 tangle the rest of my days and work in the slums for a bare 
 living and I could enjoy it more than the thought of plung- 
 ing 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 T say, 'Jesus would have me act the part of 
 
108 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 a Christian citizen.' Marsli, as you say, we professional 
 jnen, ministers, professors, artists, literary men, scholars, 
 liave 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 this matter. With all 
 the men who have made the promise, we certainly can have 
 companionship and strength, even of numbers. Let us 
 organize 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 frightened, in spite of its lawless- 
 ness and corruption. Let us plan a campaign that will 
 mean something, because it is organized 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 it bravely, like men." 
 
 They talked over the matter a long time, and met again 
 the next day in Henry Maxwell's study to develop plans. 
 The city primaries were called for Friday. Rumors of 
 strange and unheard-of events to the average citizen were 
 current in political circles throughout Raymond. The 
 Crawford system of balloting 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 meet- 
 ing. It was so unlike any political meeting ever held in Ray- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 109 
 
 mond before, that there was no attempt at comparison. 
 The special officers to be nominated were Mayor, City Coun- 
 cil, 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 conviction 
 that the Christian people of Ptaymond were learning to 
 respect deeply, because it was so evidently sincere and 
 unselfish. A part of that editorial is also a part of this his- 
 tory: 
 
 ''It is safe to say that never before in the history of Raymond 
 was there a primary J ike the one in the court-house last night. 
 It was, first of all, a complete surprise to the city poUticians, 
 who have been in the habit of carrying on the affairs of the city 
 as if they owned them and every one else was simply a tool or a 
 cipher. The over-whelming surprise of the wire-puller last night 
 consisted in the fact that a large number of the citizens of Ray- 
 mond 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, who never before entered" a city pri- 
 mary, and whose face even was not known to many of the ward 
 politicians, made one of the best speeches ever heard in Raymond. 
 It was almost ludicrous to see the faces of the men who for years 
 have done as they pleased, when President Marsh rose to speak. 
 Many of them asked, 'Who is he?' The consternation deepened 
 as the primary proceeded, and it became evident that the old- 
 time ring of city rulers was outnumbered. Henry Maxwell, Pas- 
 tor of the First Church, Milton Wright, Alexander Powers, Pro- 
 fessors 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 well-known business and professional 
 men. most of them church members, were present, and it did not 
 take long to eee that they had all come with the direct and defi- 
 
110 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 uite purpose of nominating the best men possible. Most of these 
 men had never been seen in a primary. They were complete 
 strangers to the politicians. But they had evidently profited by 
 the politician's methods and were able, by organized and united 
 effort, to nominate the entire ticket. 
 
 "As soon as it became plain that the primary was out of their 
 control, the regular ring withdrew in disgust and nominated 
 another ticket. The 'News' simply calls the attention of all 
 decent citizens to the 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 administration, such as every good citizen ought to want. It 
 is not necessary to remind the people of Raymond that the ques- 
 tion of local option comes up at the election. That will be the 
 most important question on the ticket. The crisis of our city 
 fttfairs has been reached. The issue is squarely before us. Shall 
 we continue the rule of rum and boodle and shameless incom- 
 petency, or shall we, as President Marsh said in h*s noble speech, 
 rise as good citizens and begin a new order of things, cleansing our 
 city of the worst enemy known to municipal honestj^ and doing 
 what lies in our power to do with the ballot, to purify our 
 civic life? 
 
 The 'News' is, positively and without reservation, on the side 
 of the new movement. We shall henceforth do all in our power 
 to drive out the saloon and destroy its political strength. We 
 shall advocate the election of men nominated by the majority 
 of citizens met in the first primary, and we call upon all Chris- 
 tians, church members and lovers of right, purity, temperance, 
 and home, to stand by President Marsh and the rest of the citi- 
 zens who have thus begun a long-needed reform in our city. 
 
 President Marsh read this editorial and thanked God 
 for Edward 'Norman. At the same time he understood 
 well enough that every other paper in Raymond was on 
 the other side. He did not misunderstand the importance 
 and seriousness of the fight which was only just begun. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" Ill 
 
 It was no secret tbat the "News" 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 pos- 
 sible for Norman to conduct a daily Christian paper? Or 
 would their desire for what is called "news," in the way of 
 crime, scandal, political partisanship of the regular sort, 
 and a dislike to champion so remarkable a reform in jour- 
 nalism, 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 Sat- 
 urday 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 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 
 anj'^ other. 
 
 But, for the first time in its history, Raymond had seen 
 the professional men, the teachers, the college professors, 
 the doctors, the ministers, take political action and put 
 themselves definitely and sharply in antagonism to the evil 
 forces that had so long controlled the machine of the 
 muuicipal government. The fact itself was astonishing. 
 President Marsh acknowledged 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 worn phrase, "the Scholar in Politics." Education 
 for him and those who were under his iufiuence, ever after 
 meant some element of suffering. Sacrifice must now enter 
 into the factor of development. 
 
113 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 At the Rectangle that week, the tide of spiritual life 
 rose high, and as yet showed no signs of flowing bad:. 
 Rachel and Virginia went every night. Virginia was 
 rapidly reaching a conclusion with respect to a large 
 part of her money. She had talked it over with 
 Rachel, and they had been able to agree that if Jesus had 
 a vast amount of money at his disposal he might do with 
 some of it as Virginia plannetl. At any rate, they felt 
 that whatever Jesus might do in such a case would have as 
 large an element of variety in it as the difference in per- 
 sons and circumstances. There could be no one, fixed, 
 Christian way of using money. The rule that regulated its 
 use was unselfish utility. 
 
 But meanwhile the glory of the Spirit's power pos- 
 sessed all their best thought. Night after night that week 
 witnessed miracles as great as walking on the sea, or feed- 
 ing the multitude with a few loaves and fishes. For what 
 greater miracle than a regenerated humanity ? The trans- 
 formation of these coarse, brutal, sottish lives, into pray- 
 ing rapturous lovers of Jesus, struck Rachel and Virginia 
 every time with the feelings that people may have had 
 when they saw Lazarus walk out of the tomb. It was an 
 experience full of profound excitement to them. 
 
 Rollin Page came to all the meetings. There was no 
 doubt of the change that had come over him. He was won- 
 derfully quiet. It seemed as if he were thinking all the 
 time. Certainly he was not the same person. He 
 talked more with Gray than with any one else. He 
 did nol avoid Rachel, but he seemed to shrink from any 
 appearance of seeming to wish to renew the old acquaint- 
 ance with her. Rachel found it even difficult to express to 
 him her pleasure at the new life he had begun to know. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 113 
 
 He seemed to be waiting to adjust himself to his previous 
 relations before this new life began. He had not forgot- 
 ten Those relations. But he was not yet able to fit his con- 
 sciousness into new ones. 
 
 The end of the week found the Rectangle struggling 
 hard between two mighty opposing forces. The Holy Spirit 
 was battling with all his supernatural strength against the 
 saloon devil which had so long held a jealous grasp on its 
 slaves. If the Christian people of Raymond once could 
 realize what the contest meant to the souls newly awaliened 
 to a new life, it did not seem possible that the election 
 could result in the old system of license. But that remained 
 yet to be seen. The horror of the daily surroundings of 
 many of the converts was slowly burning its way into the 
 knowledge of Virginia and Rachel, and every night as thay 
 went up town to their luxurious homes they carried heav- 
 ier hearts. 
 
 "A good many of those poor creatures will go back 
 again," Gray would say with a sadness too deep for tears. 
 "The environment does have a good deal to do with the 
 character. It does not stand to reason that these people 
 can always resist the sight and smell of the devilish drink 
 all about them. O Lord! how long shall Christian people 
 continue to support, by their silence and their ballots, the 
 greatest form of slavery now known in America?" 
 
 He asked the question, and did not have much hopes 
 of an immediate answer. There was a ray of hope in the 
 action of Friday night's primary; but what the result would 
 be, he did not dare to anticipate. The whisky forces were 
 organized, alert, aggressive, roused into unusual hatred by 
 the events of the last week at the tent and in the city. 
 Would the Christian force act as a unit against the saloon? 
 
114 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Or would it be divided on account of its business interests, 
 or because it was not in tlie habit of acting altogether, as 
 the whisky powers always did? That remained to be seen. 
 Meanwhile the saloon reared itself about the Rectangle like 
 some deadly viper, hissing and coiling, ready to strike its 
 poison into any unguarded part. 
 
 Saturday afternoon, as Virginia was just stepping out 
 of her house to go and see Rachel to talk over her new plans, 
 a carriage drove up containing three of her fashionable 
 friends. "Virginia went out to the driveway and stood there 
 talking with them. They had not come to make a formal 
 call, but wanted Virginia to go riding with them up on the 
 boulevard. There was a band concert in the Park. The 
 day was too pleasant to be spent in doors, 
 
 "Where have you been all this time, Virginia?" asked 
 one of the girls, tapping her playfully on the shoulder with 
 a red silk parasol. "We hear that you have gone into the 
 show business. Tell us about it." 
 
 Virginia colored, but after a moment's hesitation she 
 frankly told something of her experience at the Rectangle. 
 The girls in the carriage began to be really interested. 
 
 "Tell you what, girls, let's go slumming with Virginia 
 this afternoon instead of going to the band concert! I've 
 never been down to the Rectangle. I've heard it's an awful 
 wicked place and lots to see. Virginia will act as a guide, 
 and it would be real,"— "fun," she was going to say, but Vir- 
 ginia's look made her substitute the word, "interesting." 
 
 Virginia was angry. At first thought she said to 
 herself she would never go under any such circumstances. 
 The other girls seemed to be of the same mind as the 
 speaker. They chimed in with earnestness and asked Vir- 
 ginia to take them down there. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 115 
 
 Suddenly she saw in the idle euriosTfy of the girls an 
 opportunity. They had never seen the sin and misery of 
 Raymond. Why should they not see it, even if their motives 
 in going down there were simply to pass away an after- 
 noon. 
 
 "Very well, I'll go with you. You must obey my orders, 
 and let me take you where you can see the most," she said, 
 as she entered the carriage and took the seat beside the 
 girl who had first suggested the trip to the* Rectangle. 
 
 "Hadn't we better take a policeman along," said one oli 
 the girls with a nervous laugh. "It really isn't safe down 
 there, you know." 
 
 "There's no danger," said Virginia briefly. 
 
 "Is it true that Rollin has been converted?" asked 
 the first speaker looking at Virginia curiousl3^ It im- 
 pressed her during the drive to the Rectangle that all three 
 of her friends we^e regarding her with close attention as if 
 she were very peculiar. 
 
 "Yes, he certainly is. I saw him myself on the ni^-ht 
 of the first interest shown, a week ago Saturday," replied 
 Virginia who did not know just how to tell that scene. 
 
 "I understand he is going around to the clubs talking 
 with his old friends there, trying to preach to them. Doesn't 
 that seem funny?" said the girl with the red silk parasol. 
 
 Virginia did not answer, and the other girls were begin- 
 ning to feel sober as the carriage turned into the street 
 leading to the Rectangle. As they neared the district, 
 they grew more and more nervous. The sights and smells 
 .nnd sounds which had become familiar to Virginia, struck 
 the senses of these refined, delicate, society girls as some- 
 
116 TN HIS STEPS. 
 
 thing horrible. As they entered farther into the district, 
 the Rectangle seemed to stare as with one great, bleary, 
 beer-soalied countenance at this fine, carriage with its load 
 of fashionably dressed young ladies. "Slumming" had 
 never been a fad with Raymond society, and this was per- 
 haps the first time that the two had come together in this 
 way. The girls felt that, instead of seeing the Rectangle, 
 they were being the objects of curiosity. They were fright- 
 ened and disgusted. 
 
 Let's go bacli. I've seen enough," said the girl who was 
 sitting with Virginia. 
 
 They were at that moment just opposite a notorious 
 saloon and gambling house. The street was narrow and the 
 sidewalk crowded. Suddenly, out of the door of the saloon 
 a young woman reeled. She was singing, in a brolven, 
 drunken sob that seemed to indicate that she partly realized 
 her awful condition, "Just as I am, without one plea;" 
 and as the carriage rolled past she leered at it, raising her 
 face so that Virginia saw it very close to her own It 
 was the face of the girl who had kneeled sobbing that 
 night, with Virginia kneeling beside her and praying for 
 her. 
 
 "Stop I" cried Virginia motioning to the driver, who was 
 looking around. The carriage stopped, and in a moment she 
 was out and had gone up to the girl and taken her by the 
 arm. 
 
 "Loreen," she said, and that was all. The girl looked 
 into her face, and her own changed into a look of utter hor- 
 ror. The girls in the carriage were smitten into helpless 
 astonishment. The saloon-keeper had come to the door of 
 the saloon and was standing there looking on, with his 
 hands on his hips. And the Rectangle from its windows, 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 117 
 
 its s^aloon steps, its filtliy sidewalk, gutter and roadway, 
 paused, and with undisguised wonder stared at the two 
 girls. Over the scene the warm sun of spring poured its 
 mellow light. A faint breath of music from the band stand 
 in the park floated into the Rectangle. The concert had 
 begun, and the fashion and wealth of Raymond were dis- 
 playing themselves up town on the boulevards. 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 "For I came to set a man at variance against his father, and 
 the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against 
 her mother-in-law; and a man's foes shall be they of his own 
 household." 
 
 ''Be ye therefore imitators of God, as beloved children; and 
 walk in love even as Christ also loved you." 
 
 When Virginia left the carriage and went to Loreen, 
 she had no definite idea as to what she would do or 
 what the result of her action would be. She simply saw a 
 soul that had tasted of the joy of a better life slipping back 
 again into its old hell of shame and death. And before she 
 had touched the drunken girl's arm, she had asked only 
 one question, "AVhat would Jesus do?" That question was 
 becoming Avilji her, as with many others, a habit of life. 
 
 She looked around now, as she stood close by Loreen, 
 and the whole scene was cruelly vivid to her. She thought 
 first of the girls in the carriage. 
 
 "Drive on; don't wait for me! I am going to see my 
 friend here home,*' she said, calmly enough. 
 
 The girl with the red parasol seemed to gasp at the 
 word "friend" when Virginia spoke it. She did not say 
 anything. The other girls seemed speechless. 
 
 "Go on! I cannot go back with you," said Virginia. 
 
 The driver started the horses slowly. One of the girls 
 leaned a little out of the carriage. 
 
 "Can't we— that is— do you want our help? Couldn't 
 we—" 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 119 
 
 'No, no!" exclaimed Virginia; "yon cannot be of any nse 
 to nie." 
 
 The carriage movecl on, and Virginia was alone with 
 her charge 
 
 She looked up and around. Many faces in the crowd 
 were sympathetic. They were not all cruel or brutal. The 
 Holy Spirit had softened a good deal of the Rectangle. 
 
 "Where does she live?" asked Virginia. 
 
 No one answered. It occurred to Virginia afterwards, 
 when she had time to think it over, that the Rectangle 
 sliowed a delicacj- in its sad silence that would have done 
 credit to the boulevard. 
 
 For the first time it flashed upon her that the immortal 
 being, who was flung like wreckage upon the shore of this 
 earthly hell called the saloon, had no place that could be 
 called home. 
 
 The girl suddenly wrenched her arm from Virginia's 
 grasp. In doing it she nearly threw Virginia down. 
 
 "You shall not touch me I Leave me! Let me go to hell! 
 That's where I belong! The devil is waiting for me. See 
 him!" she exclaimed hoarsely. She turned and pointed 
 with a shaking finger at the saloon-keeper. The crowd 
 laughed. 
 
 Virginia stepped up to her and put her arm about her. 
 
 "Loreen," she said firmly, "come with me. You do not 
 belong to hell. You belong to Jesus, and He will save you. 
 Come." 
 
 The girl suddenly burst into tears. She was only partly 
 sobered by the shock of meeting Virginia. 
 
 Virginia looked around again. "Where does Mr. Gray 
 live?" she asked. SUe knew the evangelist boarded some- 
 where near that tent. 
 
120 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 A number of voices gave her the dh'ection. 
 
 "Come, Loreen, I want you to go with me to Mrs. 
 Gray's," she said, still Iceeping her hold of the swaying, 
 trembling creature, who still moaned and sobbed, and now 
 clung to Virginia as before she had repulsed her. 
 
 So the two moved on through the Kectangle towards the 
 evangelist's lodging place. The sight seemed to impress 
 the Rectangle seriously. It never took itself seriously when 
 it was drunk ; but this Avas different. The fact that one of 
 the most beautifully-dressed girls in Raymond was taking 
 care of one of the Rectangle's most notorious characters, 
 who reeled along under the influence of liquor, was a fact 
 astonishing enough to throw more or less dignity and 
 importance about Loreen herself. The event of Loreen 
 stumbling through the gutter dead drunk always made the 
 Rectangle laugh and jest. But Loreen staggering along 
 Avith a young lady from the society circles up town sup- 
 porting her, was another thing. The Rectangle viewed it 
 with soberness and more or less wondering admiration. 
 
 When they reached Mr. Gray's boarding place, the wom- 
 an who answered Virginia's knock said that both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gray Avere out somewhere, and would not be back 
 until six o'clock. 
 
 Virginia had not planned anything farther than a possi- 
 ble appeal to the Grays, either to take charge of Loreen 
 for awhile, or find some safe place for her until she was 
 sober again. She stood now at the lodging after the Avom- 
 an had spoken, and she was really at a loss to know what 
 to do. Loreen sank down stupidly on the steps and buried 
 her face in her arms. Virginia eyed the miserable figure 
 with a feeling that she was fearful would grow into dis- 
 gust. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 131 
 
 Finally a thought possessed Virginia that she could not 
 resist. What was to hinder Loreen from going home with 
 her? Why should not this homeless, wretched creature, 
 reeking with the fumes of liquor, be cared for in Virginia's 
 own home, instead of being consigned to strangers in some 
 hospital or house of charity? Virginia really knew very 
 little about any such places of refuge. As a matter of 
 fact, there were two or three such institutions in Raymond; 
 but it is doubtful if any of them would have taken a per- 
 son like Loreen in her present condition. But that was not 
 the question with Virginia just now. "What would Jesus 
 '.\6 with Loreen?" was what Virginia faced, and she finally 
 answered it by touching Loreen again. 
 
 "Loreen, come. You are going home with me. We 
 will take the car here at the corner." 
 
 Loreen staggered to her feet, and to Virginia's 
 relief, made no trouble. She had expected resistance, or a 
 stubborn refusal to move. When they reached the corner 
 and took the car, it was nearly full of people going up town. 
 Virginia Avas painfully conscious of the stare that greeted 
 her and her companion as they entered. But her thought 
 was directed more and more to the approaching scene with 
 her grandmother. What would Madam Page say when she 
 saw Loreen? 
 
 Loreen was nearly sober now. But she was lapsing into 
 a state of stupor. Virginia was obliged to hold fast to her 
 arm. Several times she lurched heavily against Virginia, 
 and as the two wont up the avenue a curious crowd of peo- 
 ple turned and gazed at them. When she mounted the 
 steps of the handsome house, Virginia breathed a sigh of 
 relief, even in the face of the interview with her grand- 
 mother; and wlien the door shut and she was in the wide 
 
123 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 hall with her homeless outcast, she felt equal to anything 
 thai might now come. 
 
 Madam Page was in the library. Hearing Virginia 
 come in, she came into the hall. Virginia stood there support- 
 ing Loreen, who stared stupidly at the rich magnificence 
 of the furnishings around her. 
 
 ''Grandmother—" Virginia spoke without hesitation and 
 very clearly— "I have brought one of my friends from the 
 Rectangle. She is in trouble and has no home. I am going 
 to care for her a little while." 
 
 Madam Page glanced from her granddaughter to Loreen 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "Did you say she was one of your friends?" She asked 
 in a cold, sneering voice that hurt Virginia more than any- 
 thing she had yet felt. 
 
 "Yes, I said so." Virginia's face flushed but she seemed 
 to recall the verse that Mr. Gray had used for one of his 
 recent sermons, "A friend of publicans and sinners." Surely 
 Jesus would do this that she was doing. 
 
 "Do you know what this girl is?" asl^ed Madam Page in 
 an angry whisper, stepping near Virginia. 
 
 "I know very well. She is an outcast. You need not 
 tell me, Grandmother. I know it even better than you do. 
 She is drunk at this minute. But she is also a child of God. 
 1 have seen her on her knees repentant. And I have seen 
 Hell reach out its horrible fingers after her again, xind by 
 the grace of Christ, I feel that the least I can do is to rescue 
 her from such peril. Grandmother, we call ourselves Chris- 
 tians. Here is a poor, lost human creature, without a 
 home slipping into a possible eternal loss, and we have 
 more than enough. I have brought her here and shall 
 keep her." 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 123 
 
 Madam Page glared at Virginia and clenched her hands. 
 All this was contrary to her social code of conduct. How 
 could society excuse such familiarity witli tlie scum of the 
 streets? AVhat would Virginia's actions cost the family, in 
 the way of criticism and the loss of standing, and all that 
 long list of necessary relations which people of wealth and 
 position must sustain to the leaders of society? To Madam 
 Page, society represented more than the church or any 
 other institution. It was a power to be feared and obeyed. 
 The loss of its good will was a loss more to be dreaded 
 than anything, except the loss of wealth itself. 
 
 She stood erect and stern, and confronted Virginia, fully 
 roused and determined. Virginia placed her arm about 
 Loreen and calmly looked her grandmother in the face. 
 
 "You shall not do this, Virginia. You can send her to 
 the asylum for helpless women. We can pay all the 
 expenses. We cannot afford, for the sake of our reputa- 
 tions, to shelter such a person." 
 
 "Grandmother, I do not wish to do anything that is dis- 
 pleasing to you; but I am going to keep Loreen here 
 to-night, and longer if I think it is best." 
 
 "Then you can answer for the consequences! I do not 
 stay in the same house with a miserable—" Madam Page 
 lost her self-control. Virginia stopped her before she could 
 speak the next word. 
 
 "Grandmother, this house is mine. It is your home with 
 me as long as you choose to remain. But in this matter I 
 shall act as I fully believe Jesus would in my place. I am 
 willing to bear all that society may say or do. Society is 
 not my God. By the side of this poor, lost soul, I do not 
 count the verdict of society as of any value." 
 
 "I shall not remain here, then," said Madam Page. She 
 
124 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 turned suddenly and walked to the end of the hall. She 
 then came back, and said, with an emphasis that revealerl 
 her intense excitement and passion, 
 
 "You can always remember that you have driven your 
 grandmother out of yoiu* house in favor of a drunken 
 woman." Then, without waiting for Virginia to reply, she 
 turned again and went up stairs. 
 
 Virginia called for a servant, and soon had Loreen cared 
 for. She was fast lapsing into a wretched condition. Dur- 
 ing the brief scene in the hall, she had clung to Virginia so 
 hard that Virginia's arm was sore from the clutch of tho 
 girl's £ngers. 
 
 Virginia did not know whether her grandmother would 
 leave the house or not. She had abundant means of her 
 own; was perfectly well and vigorous, and capable of car- 
 ing for herself. She had sisters and brothers living in the 
 South, and was in the habit of spending several weeks in 
 the year with them. Virginia was not anxious about her 
 welfare, so far as that went; but the interview had been 
 a painful one to her. Going over it, as she did in her room 
 before she went down to tea, she found little cause for 
 regret, however. "What would Jesus do?" There was no 
 question in Virginia's mind that she had done the right 
 thing. If she had made a mistake, it was one of the judg- 
 ment and not of the heart. When the bell rang for tea, 
 she went down, and her grandmother did not appear.She 
 sent a servant to her room, and the servant brought back 
 word that Madam Page was not there. A few minutes 
 later Rollin came in. He brought word that his grand- 
 mother had taken the evening train for the South. He had 
 been at the station to see some friends off, and had by 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 125 
 
 chance met his grandmother as he was coming out. She 
 told him her reason for going. 
 
 Virginia and Rollin confronted each other at the table 
 with earnest, sad faces. 
 
 "Rollin," said Virginia, and, for the first time almost 
 since his conversion, she realized what a wonderful thing 
 her brother's change of life meant to her. "Do you blame 
 me? Am I wrong?" 
 
 "No, dear, I cannot believe you are. This is very pain- 
 ful for us. But if you think this poor creature owes her 
 safety and salvation to your personal care, it was the only 
 thing for you to do. O Virginia I to think that we have all 
 these years enjoyed our beautiful home and all these luxu- 
 ries selfishly, forgetful of the multitude like this woman! 
 Surely Jesus in our places would do what you have done." 
 
 And so Rollin comforted Virginia and counselled with 
 her that evening. And of all the wonderful changes that 
 Virginia was henceforth to know on account of her great 
 pledge, nothing affected her so powerfully as the thought of 
 Rollin' s change in life. Truly, this man in Christ was a 
 new creature. Old things were passed away. Behold, all 
 things in him had become new. 
 
 Dr. West came that evening at Virginia's summons, 
 and did everything necessary for the outcast. She had 
 drunk herself almost into delirium. The best that could be 
 done for her now Avas quiet nursing, and careful watching, 
 and personal love. So in a beautiful room, with a picture 
 of Christ walking by the sea hanging on the wall, where 
 her be%A ildered eyes caught daily something more of its hid- 
 den meaning, Loreen lay, tossed she hardly knew how 
 Into this haven; and Virginia crept nearer the Master than 
 she had ever been, as her heart went out towards this 
 
126 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 wreck which had thus been flung torn and beaten at her 
 feet. 
 
 Meanwhile the Rectangle waited the issue of the elec- 
 tion with more than usual interest. And Gray and his wife 
 wept over the pitiable creatures who, after a struggle with 
 surroundings that daily tempted them, too often wearied 
 of the struggle and, lilce Loreen, threw up their arms and 
 went whirling into the boiling abyss of their previous con- 
 dition. 
 
 The after-meeting at the First Church was now regularly 
 established. Henry Maxwell went into the lecture-room 
 on the Sunday succeeding the weeli of the primary, and wan 
 greeted with an enthusiasm that made him tremble, at 
 first, for its reality. He noted again the absence of Jas- 
 per Chase, but all the others were present and they seemed 
 drawn very close together by a bond of common fellowship 
 that demanded and enjoyed mutual confidences. It was 
 the general feeling that the spirit of Jesus was a spirit of 
 very open, frank confession of experience. It seemed the 
 most natural thing in the world for Edward Norman to be 
 telling all the rest of the company about the details of his 
 newspaper. 
 
 "The fact is, I have lost a good deal of money during 
 the last three weeks. I cannot tell how much. I am losing 
 a great many subscribers every day." 
 
 "What do the subscribers give as their reason for drop- 
 ping the paper?" asked Henry Maxwell. All the rest were 
 listening eagerly. 
 
 "There are a good many different reasons. Some say 
 they want a paper that prints all the news; meaning by 
 that, the crime details, sensations like prize fights, scandals, 
 and horrors of various kinds. Others object to the discon- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 127 
 
 tinuance of the Sunday editiou. 1 have lost hundreds of 
 subscribers by that action, although I have made satis- 
 factory arrangements with many of the old subscribers by 
 giving them even more in the extra Saturday edition than 
 they formerly had in the Sunday issue. My greatest loss 
 has come from a falling off iy advertisements, and from the 
 attitude I have felt obliged to talie on political questions. 
 This last action has really cost me more than any other. 
 The bulk of my subscribers are intensely partisan. I may 
 as well tell you all frankly that, if I continue to pursue the 
 plan ^^hich I honestly believe Jesus would in the matter of 
 political issues and their treatment from a non-partisan and 
 moral standpoint, the 'News' will not be able to pay its 
 operating expenses." unless one factor in Raymond can be 
 depended on." 
 
 He paused a moment, and the room was very quiet. 
 Virginia seemed specially interested. Her face glowed with 
 interest. It was like the interest of a person Avho had been 
 thinking hard of the same thing Norman went on now to 
 mention. 
 
 "That one factor is the Christian element in Raymond. 
 Say the 'News' has lost heavily from the dropping off of 
 people who do not care for a Christian daily, and from 
 others who simply look upon a newspaper as a purveyor of 
 all sorts of material to amuse and interest them— are there 
 enougli genuine Christian people in Raymond who will 
 rally to the support of a paper such as Jesus would proba- 
 bly edit, or are the habits of the people so firmly estab- 
 lished in their demands for the regular type of journalism 
 tliat they will not take a paper unless it is stripped largely 
 of the Christian and moral purpose? I may also say, in this 
 fellowsliip gathering, that owing to recent complications In 
 
128 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 my business affairs outside of my paper, I have been 
 obliged to lose a large part of my fortune. I have had to 
 apply the same rule of Jesus' probable conduct to certain 
 transactions with other men who did not apply it to their 
 conduct, and the result has been the loss of a great deal of 
 money. As I understand the promise we made, we w^ero 
 not to ask any questions about, "Will it pay?" but all our 
 action was to be based on the one question, 'What would 
 Jesus do?' Acting on that rule of conduct, I have been 
 obliged to lose nearly all the money I have accumulated in 
 my paper. It is not necessary for me to go into details. There 
 is no question with me now, after the three weeks' experience 
 I have had, that a great many men would lose vast sums 
 of money under the present system of business, if this rule 
 of Jesus were honestly obeyed. I mention my loss here 
 because I have the fullest faith in the final success of a 
 daily paper conducted on the lines I have recently laid 
 down, and 1 had planned to put into it my entire fortune 
 in order to win final success. As it is now, unless, as I 
 said, the Christian people of Raymond, the church member? 
 and professing disciples, will support the paper with sub 
 scriptions and advertisements, I cannot continue its publi- 
 cation on the present basis." 
 
 Virginia asked a question. She^had followed Mr. Nor- 
 man's confession with the most intense eagerness. 
 
 "Do you mean that a Christian daily ought to be 
 endowed with a large sum like a Christian college in order 
 to make it pay?" 
 
 "That is exactly what I mean. I have laid out plans 
 for putting into the 'News' such a variety of material, in 
 such a strong and truly interesting way, that it would more 
 than make up for whatever was absent from its columns 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 129 
 
 in the way of un-Christian matter. But mj' plaus called 
 for a very large outlay of money. I am very eonfiJent that 
 a Christian daily such as Jesus would approve, containing 
 only what He would print, can be made to succeed finan- 
 cially if it is planned on the right lines. But it will take a 
 large sum of money to worlv out the plans." 
 
 "How much do you think?" asked Virginia quietly. 
 
 Edward Norman looked at her keenly, and his face 
 flushed a moment, as an idea of Virginia's purpose crossed 
 his mind. He had known her when she was a little girl 
 in the Sunday-school, and he had been on intimate relations 
 in business with her father. 
 
 "I should say a half million dollars, in a town like Ray- 
 mond, could be well spent in the establishment of a paper 
 such as we have in mind," he answered. And his voice 
 trembled a little. The keen look on Edward Norman's 
 grizzled face flashed out with a stern but thoroughly Chris- 
 tian anticipation of great achievements in the world of 
 newspaper life, as it had opened up to him within the last 
 few seconds. 
 
 "Then," said Virginia, speaking as if the thought were 
 fully considered, "I am ready tp put that amount of money 
 into the paper on the one condition, of course, that it be 
 carried on as it has been begun." 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Henry Maxwell softly. Ed- 
 ward Norman was pale. The rest were looking at Virginia. 
 {She had more to say. 
 
 "Dear friends," she went on— and there was a sadness 
 in her voice that made an impression on the rest that deep- 
 ened when they thought it over afterwards— "I do not want 
 any of you to credit me with an act of great generosity or 
 
180 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 philanthropy. I have come to know lately that the money 
 which I have called my own is not my own, but God's. If 
 1, as a steward of His, see some wise way to invest His 
 money, it is not an occasion of vain glory or thanks from 
 any one simply because I have proved honest in my admin- 
 istration of the funds He has asked me to use for His glory. 
 1 have been thinking of this very plan for some time. The 
 fact is, dear friends, that in our coming fight with the 
 whisky power in Raymond— and it has only just begun— 
 we shall need the 'News' to champion the Christian side. 
 You all know that all the other papers are for the saloon. 
 As long as the saloon exists, the work of rescuing dying 
 souls at the Rectangle is carried on at a terrible disadvan 
 tage. What can Mr. Gray do with his gospel meetings when 
 half his converts are drinking people, daily tempted and 
 enticed by the saloon on every corner? The Christian 
 daily we must have. It would be giving up to the enemy 
 to have the 'News' fail. I have great confidence in Mr. 
 Norman's ability. I have not seen his plans; but I have 
 the confidence that he has in making the paper succeed if 
 it is carried forward on a large enough scale. I cannot 
 believe that Christian intelligence in journalism will be 
 inferior to un-Chrlstian intelligence, even when it comes to 
 making the paper pay financially. So that is my reason 
 for putting this money— God's, not mine— into this powerful 
 agent for doing as Jesus would. If we can keep such a 
 paper going for one year, I shall be willing to see that 
 amount of money used in the experiment. Do not thank 
 me. Do not consider my promise a wonderful thing. What 
 have I done with God's money all these years but gratify 
 my own selfish, physical, personal desires? What can I do 
 with the rest of it but try to make some reparation for what 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 131 
 
 I have stolen from Cod? That is the way I look at it now. 
 I believe it is what Jesus would do." 
 
 Over the lecture-room swept that unseen yet distinctly 
 felt wave of divine presence. No one spoke for a while. 
 Henrj" Maxwell standing there, where the faces lifted their 
 intense gaze into his, felt what he had already felt before— 
 a strange setting back out of the nineteenth century into 
 the first, when the disciples had all things in common, and 
 a spirit of fellowship must have flowed freely between 
 them such as the First Church of Raymond had never 
 known. How much had his church membership known of 
 this fellowship in daily interests, before this little company 
 had begun to do as Jesus would do? It was with diflBculty 
 that he thought of his present age and its surroundings. 
 The same thought was present with all the rest also. There 
 was an unspoken comradeship such as they had never 
 known. It was present with them while Virginia was 
 speaking, and during the silence that followed. If it had 
 been defined by any one of them, it would, perhaps, have 
 taken some such shape as this: "If I shall, in the course of 
 my obedience to my promise, meet with loss or trouble in the 
 world, I can depend upon the genuine, practical sympathy 
 and fellowship of any other Christian in this, room who has 
 with me made the pledge to do all things by the rule, 'What 
 would Jesus do?' " 
 
 All this the distinct wave of spiritual power expressed. 
 It had the effect that a physical miracle may have had ou 
 the early disciples in giving them a feeling of confidence in 
 their Lord that helped them to face loss and martyrdom 
 with courage and even joy. 
 
 Before they went aAvay this time, there were several 
 confidences like those of Edward Norman. Some of the 
 
133 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 young men told of the loss of places owing to their honest 
 obedience to their promise. Alexander Powers spoke 
 briefly of the fact that the Commission had promised to 
 take action at the earliest date possible. He was already 
 at his old work of telegraphy. It was a significant fact, 
 that since his action in resigning his position, neither his 
 wife nor daughter had appeared in public. No one but him^ 
 self knew the bitterness of that family estrangement and 
 misunderstanding of the higher motive. Yet many of the 
 disciples present in the meeting carried similar burdens. 
 These were things which they could not talk about. Henry 
 Maxwell, from his knowledge of his church people, could 
 almost certainly know that obedience to this pledge had 
 produced in the heart of families separation of sympathy 
 and even the introduction of enmity and hatred. Truly "a 
 man's foes are they of his own household," when the rule 
 of Jesus is obeyed by some and disobeyed by others. Jesus 
 is a great divider of life. One must walk either parallel 
 with Him or directly across His path. 
 
 But more than any other feeling at this meeting, rose 
 the tide of fellowship for one another. Henry Maxwell 
 watched it, trembling for its climax, which he knew was 
 not yet reache(J. When it was, where would it lead them? 
 He did not l^now, but he was not unduly alarmed about it. 
 Only, he watched with growing wonder the results of that 
 simple promise as it was being obej-ed in these various 
 lives. Those results were already being felt all over the 
 city. Who could measure their influence at the end of the 
 year? 
 
 One practical form of this fellowship showed itself in 
 the assurances which Edward Norman received in support 
 of his paper. There was a general flocking towards him 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?' 188 
 
 when the meeting closed, and the response to his appeal 
 for help from the Christian disciples in Raymond was fully 
 understood by this little company. The value of such a 
 paper in the homes and in behalf of good citizenship, espe- 
 cially at the present crisis in the city, could not be meas- 
 ured. It remained to be seen what could be done now that 
 the paper was endowed so liberally. But it still was true, 
 as Edward Norman insisted, that money alone could not 
 malie the paper a power. It must receive the support and 
 sympathy of the Christians in Raymond, before it could be 
 counted as one of the great Christian forces of the city. 
 
 The weelv that followed this Sunday meeting was one 
 of great excitement in Raymond. It was the weeli of the 
 election. Donald Marsh, true to his promise, toolc up his 
 cross and bore it manfully, but with shuddering, witli 
 groans and even tears, for his deepest conviction was 
 touched, and he tore himself out of the scholarly seclusion 
 of years with a pain and anguish that cost him more than 
 anything he had ever done as a follower of Christ. With 
 him were a fe\7 of the college professors who had made 
 the pledge in the First Church. Their experience and suf- 
 fering were the same as the President's; for their isolation 
 from all the duties of citizenship had been the same. The 
 same was also true of Henry Maxwell, who plunge^l into 
 the horror of this fight against whisky and its allies, with 
 a sickening dread of each day's encounter with it. For 
 never had he borne such a cross. He staggered under it, 
 and in the brief intervals when he came in from the work 
 and sought the quiet of his study for rest, the sweat broke 
 out on his forehead, and he felt the actual terror of one 
 who marches into unseen, unknown horrors. Looking back 
 on it, afterwards, he was amazed at his experience. He 
 
134 IN HIS STEPS. ' 
 
 was not a coward; but be felt a dread tbat any man of 
 his babits feels, wben confronted suddenly witb a duty 
 wbicb carries witb it tbe doing of certain tbings so unfa- 
 miliar tbat tbe actual details connected witb it betray bis 
 ignorance and fill bim witb tbe shame of humiliation. 
 
 Wben Saturday, tbe election day, came, the excitement 
 rose to its height. An attempt was made to close all the 
 saloons. It was partly successful. But there was a great 
 deal of drinking going on all day. Tbe Rectangle boiled 
 and heaved and cursed and turned its worst side out to the 
 gaze of tbe cit3^ Gray had continued bis meetings during 
 tbe week and tbe results had been even greater than he 
 bad dared to hope. Wben Saturday came, it seemed to bim 
 tbat tbe crisis in his work bad been reached. The Holy 
 Spirit and tbe Satan of rum seemed to rouse up to a des- 
 perate conflict. The more interest in tbe meetings, tbe 
 more ferocity and vileness outside. Tbe saloon men no 
 longer concealed their feelings. Open threats of violence 
 were made. Once during the week Gray and his little 
 company of helpers were assailed with missiles of various 
 kinds, as they left the tent late at night. The police sent 
 down special protection, and Virginia and Rachel were 
 always under tbe protection of Rollin or Dr. West. Rachel's 
 power in song bad not diminished. ' Rather, with each night 
 it seemed to add to the intensity and reality of the Spirit's 
 presence. 
 
 Gray had, at first, hesitated about having a meeting 
 tbat night. But be bad a simple rule of action, and was 
 always guided by it. Tbe Spirit seemed to lead them to 
 continue tbe meeting, and so Saturday night be went on as 
 usual. 
 
 The excitement all over tbe city had reached its climax 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 135 
 
 When the polls closed at six o'clock. Never had there been 
 such a contest hi Raj-mond. The issue of license or no 
 license had never been an issue under such circumstances. 
 Never before had such elements in the city been arrayed 
 against each otlier. It was an unlieard-of thing that the 
 president of Lincoln College, the pastor of the First 
 Church, the dean of the Cathedral, the professional men 
 living in the fine houses on the boulevard, should come 
 personally into the ^vards and, l)y their presence and their 
 example, represent the Christian conscience of the place. 
 The M-ard politicians were astonished at the sight. How- 
 ever, their astonishment did not prevent their activity. The 
 fight grew hotter every hour; and when six o'clocli: came 
 neither side could have guessed at the result with any cer- 
 tainty. Every one agreed that never had there been such 
 an election in liaymond, and both sides awaited the 
 announcement of the result with the greatest interest. 
 
 It was after ten o'clock when the meeting at the tent 
 was closed. It had been a strange and, in some respects, 
 a remarkable meeting. Henry Maxwell had come down 
 again, at Gray's request. He was completely worn out 
 by the day's work, but the appeal from Gray came to him 
 in such a form that he did not feel able to resist it. Donald 
 Marsh was also present.' He had never been to the Rec- 
 tangle, and his curiosity was aroused from what he had 
 noticed of the influence of the evangelist in the worst part 
 of the city. Dr. West and Rollin had come with Rachel 
 and Virginia; and Loreen, who had stayed with Virginia, 
 was present near the organ, in her right mind, sober, with 
 a humility and dread of herself that kept her as close to 
 Virginia as a faithful dog. All through the service Loreen 
 sat with bowed head, weeping a part of the time, sobbing 
 
136 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 when Rachel sang the song, "I was a vrandering sheep," 
 clinging with almost visible, tangible yearning to the one 
 hope she had found, listening to prayer and appeal and 
 confession all about her like one who was a part of a new 
 creation, yet fearful of her right to share in it fully. 
 
 The tent had been crowded. As on some other occa- 
 sions there was more or less disturbance on the outside of 
 the tent. This had increased as the night advanced, and 
 Gray thought it wise not to prolong the service. Once in a 
 while a shout as from a large crowd swept into the tent. 
 The returns from the election were beginning to come in, 
 and the Rectangle had emptied every lodging house, den 
 and hovel into the streets. 
 
 In spite of the distractions, Rachel's singing l^ept the 
 crowd in the tent from dissolving. There were a dozen or 
 more conversions. Finally the crowd became restless, and 
 Gray closed the service, remaining a little while with the 
 converts. 
 
 Rachel, Virginia, Loreen, RoUin and the Doctor, Presi- 
 dent Marsh and Henry Maxwell, went out together, intend- 
 ing to go down to their usual waiting place for their 
 car. As they came out of the tent they at once were 
 aware that the Rectangle was trembling on the edge of 
 a drunlien riot, and, as they puslied through the gather- 
 ing mobs in the narrow streets, they began to realize that 
 they themselves were objects of great attention. 
 
 "There he is, the blolj;e in the tall hat. He's the leader!" 
 shouted a rough voice. President Marsh, with his erect, 
 commanding figui"^, was conspicuous in the little company. 
 
 "How has the election gone? It is too early to know 
 the result yet, isn't it?" He asked the question aloud, and a 
 man answered, "They say second and third wards have 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 137 
 
 gone almost solid for no license. If that is so, the whisky 
 men have been beaten." 
 
 "Thank God: I hope it is true," exclaimed Henry Max- 
 well. "Marsh, we are in danger here. Do you realize our 
 situation? We ought to get the ladies to a place of safety." 
 
 "That is true," said Marsh gravely. At that moment a 
 shoAver of stones and other missiles fell over them. The 
 narrow street and sidewalk in front of them were com- 
 pletely choked with the worst elements of the Rectangle. 
 
 "This looks serious," said Maxwell. With Marsh and 
 Rollin and Dr. West he started to go forward through the 
 small opening, Virginia, Rachel and Loreen following close 
 and sheltered by the men, who now realized something of 
 their danger. The Rectangle was drunk and enraged. It 
 saw in Daniel Marsh and Henry Maxwell two of the lead- 
 ers in the election contest who had perhaps robbed them of 
 their beloved saloon. 
 
 "Down with the aristocrats!" shouted a shrill voice 
 more like a woman's than a man's. 
 
 A shower of mud and stones folloAved. Rachel remem- 
 bered afterwards that Rollin jumped directly in front of 
 her and received on his head and chest a number of blows 
 that would probably have struck her if he had not shielded 
 her from them. 
 
 And just then, before the police reached them, Loreen 
 darted forward at the side of Virginia and pushed her aside, 
 lookmg up and screaming. It was so sudden that no one 
 had time to catch the face of the one who did it. But out 
 of the upper window of a room over the very saloon whore 
 Loreen had come out a week before, some one had thrown 
 a heavy bottle. It struck Loreen on the head and slie fell 
 to the ground. Virginia turned and instantly kneeled down 
 
138 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 by her. The police officers by that time had reached the 
 little company. 
 
 Donald Marsh raised his arm and shouted over the howl 
 that was beginning to rise from the wild beast in the 
 mob, 
 
 "Stop! You've Ivilled a woman!" 
 
 The announcement partly sobered the crowd. 
 
 "Is it true?" Henry Maxwell asked it, as Dr. West 
 kneeled on the other side of Loreen, supporting her. 
 "She's dying!" said Dr. West briefly. 
 
 Loreen opened her eyes and smiled at Virginia. Vir- 
 ginia wiped the blood from her face, and then b6nt over 
 and kissed her. Loreen smiled again, and the next moment 
 her soul was in .Paradise. 
 
 And yet, this is only one woman out of thousands killed 
 by this drink devil. Crowd back, now, ye sinful men and 
 women in this filthy street! Let this august, dead form be 
 borne through your stupified, sobered ranks. She was one 
 of your own children. The liectaugle had stamped the 
 image of the beast on her. Thank Him who died for sin- 
 uei's, that the other image of a neAv soul noAv shines out of 
 her pale clay! Crowd back! Give them room! Let her 
 pass reverently, followed and surrounded by the weeping, 
 awestruck company of Christians. Ye killed her, ye drunken 
 murderers! And yet, and yet, O Christian America! who 
 killed this woman V Stand back! Silence there! A woman 
 has been killed. Who? Loreen. Child of the streets. 
 Poor, drunken, vile sinner! O Lord God, how long? Y^'es. 
 The saloon killed her. That is, the voters in Christian 
 America who license the saloon. And the Judgment Day 
 only shall declare who was the murderer of Loreen. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 "He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness." 
 
 The body of Loreen lay in state at the Page mansion 
 on the avenue. It was Sunday morning, and the clear 
 sweet air, just beginning to breathe over the city the per- 
 fume of opening blos^soms in the woods and fields, svv^ept 
 over the casket from one of the open windows at the end 
 of the grand hall. The church bells were ringing and the 
 people on the avenue going by to service turned curious 
 inquiring looks up at the great house and went on, talking 
 of the recent events which had so strangely entered into 
 and made history in the city. 
 
 At the First Church, Henry Maxwell, bearing on his 
 face marks of the scene he had been through the night 
 before, confronted an immense congregation, and spoke to 
 it with a passion and a power that came so naturally out 
 of the profound experiences of the day before that his peo- 
 ple felt for him something of the old feeling of pride they 
 once had in his dramatic delivery. Only, this was a differ- 
 ent attitude. And all through his impassioned appeal this 
 morning there was a note of sadness and rebuke and stern 
 condemnation that made many of the members pale with 
 self-accusation or with inward anger. 
 
 For Raymond had awakened that morning to the fact 
 that the city had gone for license after all. The rumor at 
 the Rectangle that the second and third wards had gone 
 
140 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 no license provecl to be false. It was true that the victory 
 was won by a very meager majority. But the result was 
 the same as if it had been overwhelming. Raymond had 
 voted to continue another year the saloon. The Christians 
 of Raymond stood condemned by the result. More than a 
 hundred Christians, professing disciples, had failed to go 
 to the polls, and many more than that number had voted 
 with the whisky men. If all the church members of Ray- 
 mond had voted against the saloon, it would to-day be out- 
 lawed instead of crowned king of the municipality. For 
 that had been the fact in Raymond for years. The saloon 
 ruled. No one denied that. What would Jesus do? And 
 the woman who had been brutally struck down by the very 
 hand that had assisted so eagerly to work her earthly ruin, 
 what of her? Was it anything more than the logical 
 sequence of the whole horrible system of license that for 
 another year the saloon that received her so often and com- 
 passed her degradation, from whose very spot the weapon 
 had been hurled that struck her dead, would by the law 
 which the Christian people of Raymond voted to support, 
 open its doors perhaps to-morrow, and damn with earthly 
 and eternal destruction a hundred Loreens before the year 
 had drawn to its bloody close? 
 
 All this, with a voice that rang and trembled and broke 
 in sobs of anguish for the result, did Henry Maxwell pour 
 out upon his people that Sunday morning. And men and 
 women wept as he spoke. Donald Marsh sat there, his 
 usual erect, handsome, firm, bright, self-confident bearing 
 all gone; his head bowed upon his breast; the great tears roll- 
 ing down his cheeks, unmindful of the fact that never before 
 had he shown outward emotion in a public service. Edward 
 Norman near by sat with his clear-cut, keen face erect, but 
 
'WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 141 
 
 bis lip trembled and he clutched the end uf the pew with a 
 feeling of emotion that struck deep into his liuowledge of 
 the truth as Maxwell spol^e it. No man had given or suf- 
 fered more to influence public opinion that last week than 
 Norman. The thought that the Christian Conscience bad 
 been aroused too late or too feebly lay with a weight of 
 accusation upon the heart of the editor. YVlmt if he had 
 begun to do as Jesus would long ago? ^yho could tell 
 what might have been accomplished by this time? And up 
 in the choir, Rachel Winslow, with her face bowed on the 
 railing of the oak screen, gave way to a feeling she had not 
 yet allowed to master her; but it so unfitted her for her 
 part that when Henry Maxwell finished and she tried to 
 sing the closing solo after the prayer, her voice broke, and 
 for the first time in her life she was obliged to sit dowMi 
 sobbing and unable to go on. 
 
 Over the church, in the silence that followed this 
 strange scene, sobs and the noise of weeping arose. When 
 had the First Church yielded to such a baptism of tears? 
 What had become of its regular, precise, cold, conventional 
 order of service, undisturbed by any vulgar emotion and 
 immoved by any foolish excitement? But the people had 
 lately had their deepest convictions touched. They had 
 been living so long on their surface feelings that they had 
 almost forgotten the deeper wells of life. Now that they 
 had broken to the surface the people were convicted of the 
 meaning of their discipleship. 
 
 Henry Maxwell did not ask this morning for volunteers 
 to .join those who had already pledged to do as Jesus would. 
 But when the congregation had finally gone, and he had 
 entered the lecture-room it needed but a glance to show him 
 that the original company of followers lin.l been largely 
 
142 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 increased. The meeting was tender, it glowed with the 
 Spirit's presence, it was aliv^ with strong and lasting 
 resolve to begin a war on the whisky power of Raymond 
 that would break its reign. Since the first Sunday when 
 the first company of volunteers had pledged themselves to 
 do as Jesus would do, the different meetings had been char- 
 acterized by distinct impulses or impressions. To-day, the 
 entire force of the gathering seemed to be directed to this 
 one large purpose. It was a meeting full of broken pray- 
 ers, of contrition, confession, of strong yearning for a new 
 and better city life. And all through it ran the one general 
 cry for deliverance from the saloon and its awful curse. 
 
 But if the First Church was deeply stirred by the events 
 of the week gone, the Rectangle also felt moved strongly in 
 its own way. The death of Loreen was not in itself so 
 remarkable a fact. It was her recent acquaintance with 
 the people from the city that lifted her into special promi- 
 nence and surrounded her death with more than ordinary 
 importance. Every one in the Rectangle knew that Loreen 
 was at this moment lying in the Page mansion up on the 
 avenue. Exaggerated reports of the magnificence of the 
 casket had already furnished material for eager gossip. The 
 Rectangle was excited to know the details of the funeral. 
 Would it be public? What did Miss Page intend to do? 
 The Rectangle had never before mingled even in this dis- 
 tantly personal manner with the aristocracy on the boule- 
 vard. The opportunities for doing so were not frequent. 
 Gray and his wife were besieged by inquiries wanting to 
 know what Loreen's friends and acquaintances were 
 expected to do in paying their last respects to her. For 
 her acquaintance was large and many of the recent con- 
 verts were among her friends. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 143 
 
 So that is how it happened Monday afternoon at the 
 tent, that the funeral service of Loreen was held before an 
 immense audience that choked the tent and overflowed 
 beyond all previous bounds. Gray had gone to Virginia's 
 and after tallying it over with her and Henry Maxwell the 
 arrangements had been made. 
 
 **I am and always have been opposed to large public 
 funerals," said Gray, whose complete wholesome simplicity 
 of character was one of its great sources of strength, "but 
 the cry of the poor creatures who Icnew Loreen is so ear- 
 nest that I do not know how to refuse their desire to see 
 her and pay her poor body some last little honor. What 
 do you think, Mr. Maxwell? I will be guided by your judg- 
 ment in the matter. I am sure that whatever you and Miss 
 Page think is best will be right." 
 
 "I feel as you do," replied Mr. Maxwell. "Under most 
 circumstances I have a great distaste for what seems like 
 display at such times. But this seems different. The peo- 
 ple at the Rectangle will not come here to a service. I 
 think the most Christian thing will be to let them have the 
 service at the tent. Do you think so, Virginia?" 
 
 "Yes," said Virginia sadly. "Poor soul. I do not know 
 but that sometime I shall know she gave her life for mine. 
 We certainly cannot and will not use the occasion for vul- 
 gar display. I^et her friends be allowed the gratification of 
 their wishes. I see no harm in it." 
 
 , So the arrangements were made with some difficulty 
 for the service at the tent; and Virginia with her uncle 
 and liolliu. accompanied by Henry Maxwell, Rachel, and 
 President Marsh, and the quartette from the First Church, 
 went down and witnessed one of the strange scenes of their 
 lives. 
 
144 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 It happened that that afternoon a noted newspaper cor- 
 respondent was passing through Raymond on his way to 
 an editorial convention in a neighboring city. He heard of 
 the contemplated service at the tent and was present that 
 afternoon. His description of it was written in a graphic 
 style that caught the attention of very many readers the 
 next day. A fragment of his account belongs to this part 
 of the history of Raymond: 
 
 "There was a very unique and unusual funeral service 
 held here this afternoon at the tent of an evangelist, Rev. 
 John Gray, down in the slum district linown as the 'Rec- 
 tangle.' The occasion was caused by the killing of a wom- 
 an during an election riot last Saturday night. It seems 
 she had been recently converted during the evangelist's 
 meetings and was liilled while returning from one of the 
 meetings in company with other converts and some of her 
 friends. She was a common street drunkard and yet the 
 services at the tent were as impressive as any I ever wit- 
 nessed in a metropolitan church over the most distinguished 
 citizen. 
 
 "In the first place, a most exquisite anthem was sung 
 by a trained choir. It struck me, of course, being a stranger 
 to the place, with considerable astonishment to hear voices 
 like those one naturally expects to hear only in great 
 churches or concerts at such a meeting as this. But the 
 most remarkable part of the music was a solo sung by a 
 strikingly beautiful young woman, a Miss Winslow, who- if 
 I remember rightly, is the young singer who was sought 
 for by Crandal, the manager of 'National Opera,' and who 
 for some reason refused to accept his offer to go on the 
 stage. She had a most wonderful manner in singing and 
 everybody was weeping before she had sung a dozen words. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 145 
 
 That, of course, is not so strange an effect to be produced 
 at a funeral service, but ttie voice itself was one of ten 
 thousand. I understand Miss Winslow sings in the First 
 Church and could probably command almost any salary 
 as a public singer. She will probably be heard from soon. 
 Such a voice could win its way anywhere. 
 
 "The service aside from the singing was peculiar. The 
 evangelist, a man of apparently very simple unassuming 
 style, spoke a few words and he was followed by a fine- 
 looking man, the Rev. Henry Maxwell, pastor of the First 
 Church of Raymond. Mr. Maxwell spoke of the fact that 
 the dead woman had been fully prepared to go, but he 
 spoke in a peculiarly sensitive manner of the effect of the 
 liquor business on the lives of men and women like this 
 one. Raymond, of course, being a railroad town, and the 
 center of the great packing interests for this region, is full 
 of saloons. I caught from the minister's remarks that ho 
 had only recently changed his views in regard to license. 
 He certainly made a very striking and yet it was in no 
 sense an inappropriate address for a funeral. 
 
 "Then followed what was perhaps the queer part of this 
 strange service. The women in the tent, at least a large 
 part of them up near the coffin, began to sing in a soft tear 
 ful way, 'I was a wandering sheep;' 
 
 "Then while the singing was going on, one row of wom- 
 en stood up and walked slowly past the casket, and as they 
 went by, each one placed a flower of some kind on it. Then 
 they sat down and another row filed past, leaving their 
 tlowers. All the time the singing continued softly like rain 
 on a tent cover when the wind is gentle. It was one of 
 the simplest and at the same time one of the most impres- 
 sive sights I ever witnessed. The sides of the tent were up. 
 
146 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 and hundreds of people who could not get in stood outside 
 all as still as death, with wonderful sadness and solemnity 
 for such rough looking people. There must have been a 
 hundred of these women and I was told many of them had 
 been converted at the meetings just recently. I cannot 
 describe the effect of that singing. Not a man sung a note. 
 All women's voices, and so soft and yet so distinct that the 
 effect was startling. 
 
 "The service closed with another solo by Miss Winslow 
 who sang, 'There were ninety and nine.' And then the evan- 
 gelist asked them all to bow their heads while he prayed. 
 I was obliged in order to catch my train to leave during the 
 prayer, and the last view I caught of the scene as the train 
 went by the shops was a sight of the great crowd pouring 
 out of the tent and forming in open ranks while the coffin 
 was borne out by six of the women. It is a long time 
 since I have seen such a picture in this unpoetieal Repub- 
 lic." 
 
 If I.oreen's funeral impressed a passing stranger like 
 this, it is not difficult to imagine the profound feelings of 
 those who had been so intimately connected with her life 
 and death. Nothing had ever entered the Rectangle that 
 had moved it so deeply as Loreen's body in that coffin. And 
 the Holy Spirit seemed to bless with special power the use 
 of this senseless clay. For that night at the meeting He 
 swept more than a score of lost souls, mostly women, into 
 the fold of the good Shepherd. 
 
 It should be said here that Henry Maxwell's statement 
 concerning the opening of the saloon from whose window 
 Loreen had been killed proved nearly exactly true. It was 
 formally closed Monday and Tuesday while the authorities 
 made arrests of the proprietor charged with the murder. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 147 
 
 But nothing could be proved against any one, and before 
 Saturday of that Aveek the saloon was running as regularly 
 as ever. No one on the earth Avas ever punished by earthly 
 courts for the murder of Loreen. 
 
 No one in all Raymond, including the Rectangle, felt 
 Loreen's death more keenly than Virginia. It came like a 
 distinct personal loss to her. That short week while Loreen 
 had been in her home had opened Virginia's heart to a new 
 life. She was talking it over with Rachel the day after 
 the funeral. They were sitting in the hall of the Page 
 mansion. 
 
 "I am going to do something with my money to help 
 these women to a better life." Virginia looked over to the 
 end of the hall Avhere, the day before, Loreen's body had 
 lain. "I have decided on a good plan, as it seems to me, 
 I have talked it over with Rollin. He will devote a large 
 part of his money also to the same plan." 
 
 "How much money have you, Virginia, to give in this 
 way?"asked Rachel. Once she would never have asked 
 such a personal question. Now, it seemed as natural to talk 
 frankly about money as about anything else that belonged 
 to God. 
 
 "I have available for use at least four hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars. Rollin has as much more. It is one of 
 his bitter regrets now that his extravagant habits of life 
 before his conversion practically threw away half that 
 father left him. We are both eager to make all the repara- 
 tion in our power. 'What would Jesus do with this money?' 
 We want to answer that question honestly and wisely. The 
 money I shall put into the 'News' is, I am confident, in line 
 with Jesus' probable action. It is as necessary that we have 
 
148 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 a daily Christian paper in Raymond, especially liow that 
 we have the saloon influence to meet, as it is to have a 
 church or a college. So I am satisfied that the five hun- 
 dred thousand dollars that Mr. Norman will know how to 
 use so well will be a powerful factor in Raymond to do as 
 Jesus would do. 
 
 "About my other plan, Rachel, I want you to work with 
 me. Rollin and I are going to buy up a large part of the prop- 
 erty in the Rectangle. The field where the tent now is has 
 been in litigation for years. We mean to secure the entire 
 tract as soon as the courts have settled the title. For some 
 time I have been making a special study of the various 
 forms of college settlements and resident methods of Chris- 
 tian work and institutional church work in the heart of 
 great city slums. I do not know that I have yet been 
 able to tell just what is the wisest and most effective kind 
 of work that can be done in Raymond. But I do know this 
 much. My money (I mean God's, which He wants me to 
 use) can build wholesome lodging houses, refuges for poor 
 women, asylums for shop girls, safety for many and many 
 a lost girl like Loreen. And I do not want to be simply 
 a dispenser of this money. God help me! I do want to 
 put myself into the problem. But do you know, Rachel, I 
 have a feeling all the time that all that limitless money 
 and limitless personal sacrifice can possibly do, will not 
 really lessen very much the awful conditions at the Rec- 
 tangle as long as the saloon is legally established there. 
 I think that is true of any Christian work now being car- 
 ried on in any great city. The saloon furnishes material 
 to be saved faster than the settlement or residence or Res- 
 cue Mission work can save it." 
 
 Virginia suddenly rose and paced the hall. Rachel 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 149 
 
 answered sadly. And yet with a note of liope in her 
 voice. 
 
 "It is true. But Oh, Virginia, what a wonderful amount 
 of happiness and power can come out of this money I And 
 the saloon cannot always remain here. The time must 
 come when the Christian force in the city will triumph." 
 
 Virginia paused near Rachel, and her pale, earnest face 
 lighted up. 
 
 "I believe that too. The number of those who have 
 promised to do as Jesus would is increasing. If we once 
 have, say five hundred such disciples in Raymond, the 
 saloon is doomed. But now, dear, I want you to look at 
 your part In this plan for capturing and saving the Rec- 
 tangle. Your voice is a power. I have had many ideas 
 lately. Here Is one of them. You could organize among 
 the girls a Musical Institute. Give them the benefit of your 
 training. There are some splendid voices in the rough 
 there. Did any one ever hear such singing as that yester- 
 day by those women? Rachel, w^hat a beautiful opportu- 
 nity! You shall have the best of opportunity in the way of 
 organs and orchestras that money can provide, and what 
 cannot be done with music to win souls there Into higher 
 and better and purer living?" 
 
 Before Virginia had ceased speaking, Rachel's face was 
 perfectly transfigured with the thought of her life work. It 
 flowed into her heart and mind like a flood and the tor- 
 rent of her feeling overflowed In tears that could not be 
 restrained. It was what she had dreamed of doing her- 
 self. It represented to her something that she felt was In 
 keeping with a right use of her own talent. 
 
 "Yes," she said, as she rose and put her arms about 
 Virginia, while both girls In the excitement of their enthu- 
 
150 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 siasm paced the hall, "Yes, I will gladly put my life into 
 that kiDd of service. I do believe that Jesus would have 
 me use my life in this way. Virginia, what miracles can 
 we not accomplish with humanity if we have such a lever 
 as consecrated money to move things with!" 
 
 "Add to it consecrated personal enthusiasm like yours, 
 and it certainly can accomplish great things," said Virginia 
 smiling. And then before Rachel could reply, RoUin 
 came in. 
 
 He hesitated a moment and was passing out of the hall 
 into the library when Virginia called him and asked some 
 questions about his work. 
 
 RoUin came back and sat down and together the three 
 discussed their future plans. Rollin was apparently entirely 
 free from embarrassment in Rachel's presence while Vir- 
 ginia ^VSLS Avith them. Only his manner with her was 
 almost precise if not cold. The past seemed to be entirely 
 absorbed in his wonderful conversion. He had not for- 
 gotten it, but he seemed to be completely caught up for 
 this present time in the purpose of this new life. 
 
 After a while, Rollin was called out, and Rachel and 
 A^irginia began to talk of other things. 
 
 "By the way, what has become of Jasper Chase?" Vir- 
 ginia asked the question innocently enough, but Rachel 
 blushed and Virginia added with a smile, "I suppose he is 
 writing another book. Is he going to put you into this one, 
 Rachel? You know I always suspected Jasper Chase of 
 doing that very thing in his first story." 
 
 "Virginia," Rachel spoke with the frankness that had 
 always existed between the two friends, "Jasper Chase 
 told me the other night, that he— in fact— he proposed to 
 me— or he would, if—" 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 151 
 
 Rachel stopped and sat with her hands clasped on her 
 lap, and there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 "Vn-ginla, 1 thought a little while ago that I loved him, 
 as he said he loved me. But when he spoke, my heart 
 felt repelled and I said what I ought to say. I told him No. 
 I have not seen him since. That was the night of the first 
 conversions at the Rectangle." 
 
 "I am glad for you," said Virginia quietly. 
 
 "Why?" asked Rachel a little startled. 
 
 "Because I have never really liked Jasper Chase. He 
 is too cold and— 1 do not like to judge him, but I have 
 always distrusted his sincerity in taking the pledge at the 
 church with the rest." 
 
 Rachel looked at Virginia thoughtfully. 
 
 "I have never given my heart to him, I am sure. He 
 touched my emotions and I admired his skill as a writer. 
 I have thought at times that 1 eared a good deal for him. 
 I think, perhaps, if he had spoken to me at any other time 
 than the one he chose, I could easily have persuaded 
 myself that I loved him. But not now." 
 
 Again Rachel paused suddenly, and when she looked up 
 at Virginia again there were tears on her face. Virginia 
 came to her and put her arm about her tenderly. 
 
 When Rachel had left the house, Virginia sat in the hall 
 thinking over the confidence her friend had just shown her. 
 There was something still to be told, Virginia felt sure 
 from Rachel's manner, but she did not feel hurt that Rachel 
 had kept back something. She was simply conscious of 
 more on Rachel's mind than she had revealed. 
 
 Very soon Rollin came back and he and Virginia, arm 
 In arm, as they had lately been in the habit of doing, walked 
 up and down the long hall. 
 
152 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 It was easy for their talk to settle finally upon Rachel, 
 because of the place she was to occupy in the plans which 
 were being made for the purchase of the property at the 
 Rectangle. 
 
 "Did you ever know a girl of such really gifted powers 
 in vocal music who vras willing to give her whole life to 
 the people as Rachel is going to do? She is going to give 
 music lessons In the city, have private pupils to make her 
 living, and then give the people in the Rectangle the benefit 
 of her culture and her voice." 
 
 "It is certainly a very good example of self-sacrifice," 
 replied Rollin a little stiffly. 
 
 Virginia looked at him a little sharply. 
 
 "But don't you think it is a very unusual example? Can 
 you imagine--" Here Virginia named half a dozen famous 
 opera singers— "doing anything of this sort?" 
 
 "No, I can't," Rollin answered briefly. "Neither can I 
 imagine Miss—" he spoke the name of the girl with the red 
 parasol who had begged Virginia to take the girls to the 
 Rectangle— "doing what you are doing, Virginia." 
 
 "Any more than I can imagine Mr.—" Virginia spoke 
 the name of a young society leader— "going about to the 
 clubs doing your work, Rollin." 
 
 The two walked on in silence for the length of the hall. 
 
 "Coming back to Rachel," began Virginia, "Rollin, why 
 do you treat her with such a distant, precise manner? I 
 think, Rollin, pardon me if I hurt you, that she is annoyed 
 by it. You used to be on easy terms. I don't think Rachel 
 likes this change." 
 
 Rollin suddenly stopped. He seemed deeply agitated. 
 He took his arm from Virginia's and walked down to the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 158 
 
 end of the hall. Then he returned, with his arms behind 
 him and stopping near his sister, he said, 
 
 "Virginia, have you not learned my secret?" 
 
 Virginia looked bewildered, then over her face the 
 unusual color crept, showing that she understood. 
 
 "I have never loved any one but Rachel Winslow," Rol- 
 lin spolie calmly enough now. "That day she was' here 
 when you talked about her refusal to join the concert com- 
 pany, I asked her to be my wife. Out there on the avenue. 
 She refused me, as I knew she would. And she gave as 
 her reason the fact that I had no purpose in life, which was 
 true enough. Now that I have a purpose, now that I am a 
 new man, don't you see, Virginia, how impossible it is for 
 me to say anything? I owe my very conversion to Rachel's 
 ringing. And yet that night while she sang I can honestly 
 say that for the time being I never thought of her voice 
 except as God's message. I believe all my personal love 
 for her was for the time merged into a personal love to God 
 and my Savior." Rollln was silent, then he went on with 
 more emotion. "I am still in love with her, Virginia. But 
 I do not think she could ever love me." He stopped and 
 looked his sister in the face with a sad smile. 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Virginia to herself. She 
 was noting Rollin's handsome face, its marks of dissipation 
 nearly all gone now, the firm lips showing manhood and 
 courage, the clear eyes looking into hers frankly, the form 
 strong and graceful. Rollin was a man now. W^hy should 
 not Rachel come to love him in time? Surely the two were 
 well fitted for each other, especially now that their purpose 
 in life was moved by the same Christian source. 
 
 She said something of all this to Rollin, but he did not 
 find much comfort. When they closed the interview, Vir- 
 
IM: IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ginia carried awaj^ the impression that RoUin meant to go 
 his way with his chosen work, trying to reach the fashion- 
 able men at the clubs, and while not avoiding Rachel, seek- 
 ing no occasion for meeting her. He was distrustful of his 
 power to control his feelings. And Virginia could see thai 
 he dreaded even the thought of a second refusal in case he 
 did let Rachel know that his love was still the same. 
 
 The next day she went down to the "News" Office to 
 see Edward Norman and arrange the details of her part 
 in the establishment of the paper on its new foundation. 
 Henry Maxwell was present at this conference, and the 
 three agreed that, whatever Jesus would do in detail as 
 editor of a daily paper. He would be guided by the same 
 general principles that directed His conduct as the Savior 
 of the world. 
 
 "I have tried to put down here in concrete form some of 
 the things which it has seemed to me .Jesus would do," said 
 Edward Norman. He read from a paper lying on his desk 
 and Henry Maxwell was reminded again of liis own elTort 
 to put into written form his oAvn conception of Jesus' prob- 
 able action and also of Milton Wright's attempt in his busi- 
 ness. 
 
 "I have headed this, 'What would Jesus do as Edward 
 Norman, editor of a daily Newspaper in Raymond?' 
 
 "1. He would never allow a sentence or a picture in His 
 paper that could be called bad or coarse or impure in any 
 way. 
 
 "2. He would probably conduct the political part of the 
 paper from the standpoint of non-partisan patriotism, 
 always looking upon all political questions in the light of 
 their relations to the welfare of the people, always on the 
 basis of, 'What is right?' never from the basis of, 'What is 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 155 
 
 for the best interests of this or that party?' In other words, 
 He would treat every political subject from the standpoint 
 of the advancement of the Kingdom of God on the earth." 
 
 Edward Norman looked up from the reading for a 
 moment. "You understand that is my interpretation of 
 Jesus' probable action on political matters in a daily paper. 
 1 am not passing judgment on other newspaper men who 
 may have a different conception of Jesus' probable action 
 from mine. I am simply trying to answer honestly, 'What 
 would Jesus do as Edward Norman?' And the answer I 
 find is what I have put down.". 
 
 "3. The end and aim of a daily paper conducted by Jesus 
 would be to do the will of God. That is, His main purpose 
 in carrying on a newspaper would not be to make money, 
 or gain political influence, but His first and ruling purpose 
 should be so to conduct His paper that It would be evident 
 to all His subscribers that He was trying to seek first the 
 Kingdom of God by means of His paper. This purpose 
 would be as distinct and unquestioned as the purpose of a 
 minister or a missionary or any other unselfish martyr in 
 Christian work anywhere. 
 
 "4. .AH questionable advertisements would be impossi- 
 ble. 
 
 "5. The relation of Jesus to the employes on the paper 
 would be of the most loving character." 
 
 "So far as I have gone," said Norman, again looking up, 
 "I am of the opinion that Jesus would employ practically 
 some form of co-operation that would represent the idea 
 of mutual interest in a business where all were to move 
 together for the same great end. I am working out such a 
 plan and I am confident it will be successful. At any rate, 
 once introdnce the element of personal love Into a business 
 
156 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 like this, take out the selfish principle of doing it for the 
 sake of personal profits to a man or companj^ and I do not 
 see any way except the most loving personal interest 
 between editor, reporters, pressmen and all who contributed 
 anything to the life of the paper. And that interest would 
 be expressed not only in the personal love and sympathy 
 but in a sharing with the profits of the business. 
 
 "6. As editor of a daily paper to-day, Jesus would give 
 large space to the work of the Christian world. He would 
 devote a page possibly to the facts of reform, of sociolog- 
 ical problems, of institutional church work and similar 
 movements. 
 
 "7. He would do all in His power in His paper to fight 
 the saloon as an enemy of the human race and an unneces- 
 sary part of our present civilization. He would do this 
 regardless of public sentiment in the matter and, of course, 
 always regardless of its effect on His subscription list." 
 
 Again Edward Norman looked up. "I state my honest 
 conviction on this point. Of course I do not pass judgment 
 on the Christian men who are editing other kinds of papers 
 to-day. But as I interpret Jesus, I believe He would use 
 the influence of His paper to remove the saloon entirely 
 from the political and social life of the nation." 
 
 "8. Jesus would not issue a Sunday edition. 
 
 "9. He would print the news of the world that people 
 ought to know. Among the things that they do not need 
 to know and which would not be published would be brutal 
 prize fights, long accounts of crimes, scandals in private 
 families, or any other human events which in any way 
 would conflict with the flrst point mentioned in this out- 
 line. 
 
 "10. If Jeeus had the amount of money to use on a paper 
 
*'WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" loT 
 
 which we have, He would probably secure the best and 
 strongest Christian men and women to co-operate with 
 Him in the matter of contributors. That will be my pur- 
 pose as I shall be able to show you in a few days. 
 
 "11. Whatever the details of the paper might demand 
 as the paper developed along its definite plan, the main 
 principle that guided it would always be the establishment 
 of the Kingdom of God in the world. This large general 
 principle would necessarily shape all the details." 
 
 Edward Norman finished reading his plan. He was 
 very thoughtful. 
 
 "I have merely sketched a very faint outline. I have a 
 hundred ideas for making the paper powerful that I have 
 not yet thought out fully. This is simply suggestive. I 
 have talked it over with other newspaper men. Some of 
 them say I will have a weak, namby-pamby Sunday-school 
 sheet. If I get out something as good as a Sunday-school 
 it will be pretty good. "Why do men when they want to 
 characterize something as particularly feeble always use a 
 Sunday-school as a comparison, when they ought to know 
 that the Sunday-school is one of the strongest, most power- 
 ful influences in our civilization in this country to-day. But 
 the paper will not necessarily be weak because it is good. 
 Good things are more powerful than bad. The question 
 with me is largely one of support from the Christian peo- 
 ple of Raymond. There are over twenty thousand church 
 members here in the city. If half of them will stand by 
 the 'News,' its life is assured. What do you think, Max- 
 well, is the probability of such support?" 
 
 "I don't know enough about it to give an intelligent 
 answer. I believe in the paper with all my heart. If it 
 lives a year, as Miss Virginia said, tliere is no telling what 
 
158 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 it can do. The great thing will be to issue such a paper 
 as near as we can judge as Jesus probably would, and put 
 into it all the elements of Christian brains, strength, intel- 
 ligence, and sense, and command respect by the absence 
 of bigotry, fanaticism, narrowness and anything else that 
 is contrary to the spirit of Jesus. Such a paper will call 
 for the best that human thought and action are capable of 
 giving. The greatest minds in the world would have their 
 powers taxed to the utmost to issue a Christian daily." 
 
 "Yes," Edward Norman spolie humbly. "I shall make 
 great mistakes, no doubt. I need a great deal of wisdom. 
 But I want to do as Jesus would. 'What would He do?' 
 I have asked it daily, and shall continue to do so and abide 
 by results." 
 
 "I think we are beginning to understand," said Virginia, 
 "the meaning of that command, 'grow in the grace and 
 knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.' I am 
 sure I do not know all that He would do in detail until I 
 know Him better." 
 
 "That is very true," said Henry Maxwell. "I am begin- 
 ning to understand that I cannot interpret the probable 
 action of Jesus until I know better what His -spirit is. To 
 my mind the greatest question in all of human life is 
 summed up when we ask, 'What would Jesus do?' if as we 
 ask it, Ave also try to answer it from a growing knowledge 
 of Jesus Himself. We must know Jesus before we can 
 imitate Him." 
 
 When the arrangements had been made botvreen Vir- 
 ginia and Edward Norman, he found himself in possession 
 of the sum of five hundred thousand dollars, exclusively his 
 to use for the establishment of a Christian daily paper. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 159 
 
 When Virginia and Henry Maxwell had gone, Norman 
 closed his door and, alone with the divine presence, aslied 
 like a child for help from his All-powerful Father. All 
 through his prayer as he kneeled before his desk ran the 
 promise, "If any man lack wisdom let him ask of God 
 who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and 
 it shall be given him." Surely his prayer would be 
 answered and the Kingdom be advanced through this 
 instrument of God's power, this mighty Press which had 
 become so largely degraded to the base uses of man's 
 avarice and ambition. 
 
 Two months went by. They were full of action and 
 results in the city of Raymond and especially in the First 
 Church. In spite of the approaching heat of the summer 
 season, the after-meeting of the disciples who had made 
 the pledge to do as Jesus would do continued with enthu- 
 siasm and power. Gray had finished his work at the Rec- 
 tangle and an outward observer going through the place 
 could not have seen any difference in the old conditions, 
 although there was an actual change in hundreds of lives. 
 But the saloons, dens, hovels, gambling houses, still ran, 
 overflowing their vileness into the lives of fresh victims 
 to take the place of those rescued by the evangelist. And 
 the devil recruited his ranks very fast. 
 
 Henry Maxwell did not go abroad. Instead of that 
 he took the money he had been saving for the trip and 
 quietly arranged a summer vacation for a whole family 
 living down in the Rectangle, who had never gone outside 
 of the foul district of the tenement. The pastor of the 
 F'irst Church will never forget the week he spent with this 
 family making the arrangements. He went down into the 
 Rectangle one hot day when something of the terrible heat of 
 
160 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the tenements was beginning to be felt and helped the fam- 
 ily to the station, and then went with them to a beautiful 
 spot on the coast where, in the home of a Christian woman, 
 these bewildered city tenants breathed for the first time 
 in years the cool salt air and felt blow about them the 
 pine scented fragrance of a new lease of life. 
 
 There was a siclily baby with the mother. Three other 
 children, one a cripple. The father who had been out of 
 work until he had been, as he afterwards confessed to 
 Maxwell, several times on the verge of suicide, sat with the 
 baby in his arms during the journey, and when Maxwell 
 started bacli to Raymond after seeing the family settled, 
 the man held his hand at parting, and choked with his 
 utterance, and finally broke down, to Maxwell's great con- 
 fusion. The mother, a wearied, worn-out woman, who had 
 lost three children the year before from a fever scourge in 
 the Rectangle, sat by the car window all the way and 
 drank in the delights of sea and sky and field. It was all 
 a miracle to her. And Henry Maxwell coming back into 
 Raymond at the end of that week, feeling the scorching, 
 sickening heat all the more because of his little taste of 
 the ocean breezes, thanked God for the joy he had witnessed 
 and entered upon his discipleship with a humble heart, 
 knowing for almost the first time in his life this special 
 kind of sacrifice. For never before had he denied himself his 
 regular summer trip away from the heat of Raymond, 
 whether he felt in any great need of rest or not. 
 
 "It is a fact," he said in reply to several inquiries on 
 the part of his church, "I do not feel in need of a vacation 
 this year. I am very well and prefer to stay here." It 
 was with a feeling of relief that he succeeded in concealing 
 from every one but his wife what he had done with this 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 161 
 
 Other family. He felt the need of doing anything of that 
 sort without display or approval from others. 
 
 So the summer came on, and Henry Maxwell grew into 
 larger knowledge of his Lord. The First Church was still 
 swayed by the power of the Spirit. Maxwell marveled at 
 the continuance of His stay. He knew very well that 
 from the beginning nothing but the Spirit's presence had 
 kept the church from being torn asunder by this remarka- 
 ble testing it had received of its discipleship. Even now 
 there were many of the members among those who had 
 not taken the pledge who regarded the whole movement 
 as Mrs. Winslow did, in the nature of a fanatical interpreta- 
 tion of Christian duty, and looked for a return of the old 
 normal condition. Meanwhile, the whole body of disci- 
 ples was under the influence of the Spirit, and Henry Max- 
 well went his way that summer doing his parish work in 
 great joy, keeping up his meetings with the railroad men 
 as he had promised Alexander Powers, and daily growing 
 into a better knowledge of the Master. 
 
 Early one evening in August, after a day of refreshing 
 coolness following a long period of heat, Jasper Chase 
 walked to the window of his room in the apartment house 
 on the avenue and looked out. 
 
 On his desk lay a pile of manuscript. Since that even- 
 ing when he had spoken to Eachel Winslow he had not 
 met her. His singularly sensitive nature, sensitive to the 
 point of irritability when he was thwarted, seemed to 
 thrust him into an isolation that was intensified by his 
 habits as an author. 
 
 All through the heat of the summer he had been writ- 
 ing. His book was nearly done now. He had thrown 
 himself into its construction with a feverish strength that 
 
162 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 threatened at any moment to desert him and leave him 
 helpless. He had not forgotten his pledge with the other 
 church members at the First Church. It had forced itself 
 upon his notice all through his writing and ever since 
 Rachel had said No to him. He had aslied a thousand 
 times, 'Would Jesus do this?' 'Would he write this story?' 
 It Avas a society novel written in a stj'le that had proved 
 popular. It had no purpose except to amuse. Its moral 
 teaching was not bad, but neither was it Christian in any 
 positive way. Jasper Chase Ivuew that such a story would 
 sell. He was conscious of powers in his way that the 
 social world petted and admired. AVhat would Jesus do? 
 The question obtruded on him at the most inopportune 
 times. He became irascible over it. The standard of 
 Jesus as an author was too ideal. Of course Jesus would 
 use His powers to produce something useful, or helpful, or 
 Avith a purpose. What was he, Jasper Chase, writing this 
 novel for? Why, what nearly every writer wrote for, 
 namely, money and fame as a writer. There was no secret 
 with him that he was writing this new story with that 
 object. He was not poor and so had no temptation to 
 write for money. But he was urged on by his desire for 
 fame as much as anything He must write 'this kind of 
 matter. But what would Jesus do ? The question plagued 
 him even more than Rachel's refusal. Was he going to 
 break his promise? 
 
 As he stood at the window Rollin Page came out of the 
 club house just opposite. Jasper noted his handsome 
 face and noble figure as he started down the street. He 
 went back to his desk and turned over some papers there. 
 Then he returned to the window. Rollin was walking 
 down pBst the block and Rachel Winslow was walkipg 
 
*'WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 163 
 
 beside him. RoUin must have overtaken her as she was 
 coming from Virginia's, that afternoon. 
 
 Jasper v^-atched the two figures until they disappeared 
 in the crowd on the walk. Then he turned to his desk and 
 began to write. When he had finished the last imge of the 
 last chapter of his book, it was nearly dark. What would 
 Jesus do ? He had finally answered the question by deny- 
 ing his Lord. It grevv' darker in Jasper's room. He had 
 deliberately chosen his course, urged on by his disappoint 
 ment and loss. 
 
 "But Jesus said unto him, no man having put his hand 
 to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of 
 heaven." 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 "What is that to thee? Follow thou me." 
 
 When Rollin started down the street that afternoon 
 that Jasper stood looking out of his window, he was not 
 thinking of Rachel Winslow and did not expect to see her 
 anywhere. He had come suddenly upon her as she turned 
 into the avenue and his heart had leaped up at the sight 
 of her. He walked along by her now, rejoicing after all 
 in a little moment of this earthly love he could not drive 
 out of his life. 
 
 "I have just been over to see Virginia," said Rachel. 
 "She tells me the arrangements are nearly completed for 
 the transfer of the Rectangle property." 
 
 "Yes. It has been a tedious case in the courts. Did 
 Virginia show you all the plans and specifications for 
 buildings?" 
 
 "We looked over a good many. It is astonishing to me 
 where Virginia has managed to get all her ideas about this 
 work." 
 
 "Virginia knows more now about Arnold Toynbee and 
 East End London and Institutional Church work in Amer- 
 ica than a good many professional slum workers. She has 
 been spending nearly all summer in getting information." 
 Rollin was beginning to feel more at ease as they talked 
 over this coming work for humanity. It was safe common 
 ground. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 165 
 
 "What have you been doing all summer? I have not 
 seen much of j'ou," Rachel suddenly asked, and then her 
 face warmed with its quick flush of tropical color as if she 
 might have implied too much interest in Rollin or too much 
 regret at not seeing him oftener. 
 
 "I have been busy," replied Rollin briefly. 
 
 "Tell me something about it," persisted Rachel. "You 
 say so little. Have I a right to ask?" 
 
 She put the question very frankly, turning towards 
 Rollin in real interest. 
 
 "Yes, certainly," he replied with a grateful smile. "I 
 am not so certain that I can tell you much. I have been 
 trying to find some way to reach the men I once knew and 
 win them into more useful lives," 
 
 He stopped suddenly as if he were almost afraid to 
 go on. Rachel did not venture to suggest anything. 
 
 "I have been a member of the same company to which 
 you and Virginia belong," continued Rollin, beginning 
 again. "I have made the pledge to do as I believe Jesus 
 would do, and it is in trying to answer this question that I 
 have been doing my work." 
 
 "That is what I do not understand. Virginia told me 
 about the other. It seems wonderful to think that you 
 are trying to keep that pledge with us. But what can you 
 do with the club men?" 
 
 "Y'ou have asked me a direct question and I shall have 
 to answer it now," replied Rollin smiling again. "You see 
 I asked myself after that night at the tent, you remem- 
 ber," (he spoke hurriedly and his voice trembled a little), 
 "what purpose I could now have in my life to redeem it, 
 to satisfy my thought of Christian discipleship. And the 
 more I thought of it. the more I was driven to a place 
 
166 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 where I knew I must take up this cross. Did you ever think 
 that of all the neglected beings in our social system none 
 are quite so completely left alone as the fast young men 
 who fill the clubs and waste their time and money as I 
 used to? The churches look after the poor, miserable 
 creatures like those in the Rectangle, they make some 
 effort to reach the working men, they have a large con- 
 stituency among the average salary-earning people, they 
 send money and missionaries to the foreign heathen, but 
 the fashionable, dissipated young men around towm, the 
 club men, are left out of all plans for reaching and Chris- 
 tianizing. And yet no class of people needs it more. I 
 said to myself, 'I know these men, their good and bad qual- 
 ities. I have been one of them. I am not fitted to reach 
 the Kectangle people. I do not know how. But I think 
 I could possibly reach some of these young men and boys 
 who have money and time to spend.' So that is what I 
 have been trying to do. When I asked as you did, 'What 
 would Jesus do?' that was my answer. It has been also 
 my cross." 
 
 Rollin's voice was so low on the last sentence that 
 Rachel had difficulty in hearing him above the noise around 
 them. But she knew what he had said. She wanted to 
 ask what his methods were. But she did not know just 
 how to ask him. Her interest in his plans was larger than 
 mere curiosity. Rollin Page was so different now from the 
 fashionable young man who had asked her to be his wife, 
 that she could not help thinking of him and talking with 
 him as if he were entirely a new acquaintance. 
 
 They had turned off the avenue and were going up the 
 street to Rachel's home. It was the same street where 
 Rollin had asked Rachel why she could not love him. They 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DC'*" IttT 
 
 Avere both «tricken by a sucltlen shyness as they went on. 
 Rachel had not forgotten that day and Roliin could not. 
 She finally broke a long silence by asking him what she had 
 not found words for before. 
 
 "In your work for the club men, with your old acquaint 
 ances, what sort of reception do they give you? How do 
 3'ou approach them? What do they say?" 
 
 Rolliu was silent when Rachel spoke. He answered 
 after a moment. 
 
 "Oh, it depends on the man. A good many of them 
 think I am a crank. I have kept my membership up and 
 am in good standing in that way. I try to be wise and nor 
 provoke any unnecessary criticism. But you would be sur- 
 prised to knovr how many of the men have responded to 
 my appeal. I eould hardly make you believe that, only a 
 few nights ago, a dozen men became honestly and earnestly 
 engaged in a conversation over religious questions. I have 
 had the great joy of seeing som.e of the men give up bad 
 habits and begin a new life. 'What would Jesus do?' I 
 keep asking it. The answer comes slowly, for I am feel- 
 ing my way along. One thing I have found out. The men 
 are not fighting shy of me. I think that is a good sign. 
 Another thing: I have actually interested some of them 
 in the Rectangle work, and when it is started up they will 
 give something to help make it more powerful. And in 
 addition to all the rest, I have found a way to save some of 
 the young fellows from going to the bad in gambling." 
 
 Roliin spoke with enthusiasm. His face was trans- 
 formed by his interest in the subject which had now 
 become a part of his real life. Rachel again noted the 
 strong, manly, healthful tone of his speech. With it all 
 she knew was a deep, underlying seriousness which felt 
 
168 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the burden of the cross even while carryhig it with joy. 
 The next time 'she spoke it was with a swift feeling of 
 justice clue to Rollin and his new life. 
 
 "Do you remember I reproached you once for not hav- 
 ing any purpose worth living for?" she asked, while her 
 beautiful face seemed to Rollin more beautiful than ever 
 when he had won sufficient self-control to look up. "I want 
 to say, I feel the need of saying in justice to you now, that 
 I honor you for j^our courage and your obedience to your 
 promise. The life you are living now is a very noble 
 one." 
 
 Rollin trembled. His agitation was greater than he 
 could control. Rachel could not help seeing it. They 
 walked along in silence. At last Rollin said, "I thank you. 
 It has been more than I can tell to hear you say that." He 
 looked into her face for one moment. She read his love 
 for her in that look. But he did not speak. 
 
 When they separated, Rachel went into the house and, 
 sitting down in her room, she put her face in her hands 
 and said to herself, "I am beginning to know what it 
 means to be loved by a noble man. I shall love Rollin 
 Page after all. What am I saying! Rachel Winslow, have 
 you forgotten—" 
 
 She rose and walked back and forth. She was deeply 
 moved. Nevertheless, it was evident to herself that her 
 emotion Avas not that of regret or sorrow. Somehow a glad 
 new joy had come to her. She had entered another circle 
 of experience, and later in the day she rejoiced with a very 
 strong and sincere gladness that her Christian discipleship 
 found room for this crisis in her feeling. It was indeed a 
 part of it, for if she were beginning to love Rollin Page, 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 109 
 
 it was the Cbristiau man who had won her heart. The 
 other never would have moved her to this great change. 
 
 And RoUin, as he went back, treasured a hope that had 
 been a stranger to him since Rachel had said No that day. 
 In that hope he went on with his work as the days sped 
 on, and at no time was he more successful in reaching and 
 saving his old acquaintances than in the « time that fol- 
 low^ed that chance meeting with Rachel Winslow. 
 
 The summer liad gone and Raymond was once more 
 facing the rigor of her winter season. Virginia had been 
 able to accomplish a part of her plan for "capturing the 
 Rectangle," as she called it. But the building of houses 
 in the field, the transforming of its bleak, bare aspect into 
 an attractive park, all of which was included in her plan, 
 was a work too large to be completed that fall after she 
 had secured the property. But a million dollars in the 
 hands of a person who really wants to do with it as Jesus 
 would, ought to accomplish wonders for humanity in a 
 short time, and Henry MaxAvell, going over to the scene of 
 the new w^ork one day after a noon hour with the shop 
 men, was amazed to see how much had been done out- 
 wardly. 
 
 Yet he walked home thoughtfully, and on his way he 
 could not avoid the question of the continual problem thrust 
 into his notice bj* the saloon. How much had been done 
 for the Rectangle after all? Even counting in Virginia's 
 and Rachel's work and Mr. Gray's, where had it actually 
 counted in any visible quantity? Of course, he said to 
 himself that the redemptive work begun and carried on by 
 the Holy Spirit in His wonderful displays of power in the 
 First Church and in the tent meetings had had its effect on 
 the life of Raymond. But as he walked past saloon after 
 
170 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 saloon and noted the crowds going in and coming out of 
 tliem, as he saw the wretched dens, as many as ever appar- 
 ently, as he caught the brutality and squalor and open 
 misery and degradation on countless faces of men and 
 women and children, he sickened at the sight. He found 
 himself asking, how much cleansing could even a million 
 dollars poured into this cesspool accomplish? Was not the 
 living source of nearly all the human misery they sought 
 to relieve untouched, as long as these saloons did their 
 deadly but legitimate work? What could even such unself- 
 ish Christian discipleship as Virginia's and Rachel's do to 
 lessen the stream of vice, so long as the great spring of 
 vice and crime flowed as deep and strong as ever? Was 
 it not a practical waste of beautiful lives for these young 
 women to throw themselves into this earthly hell, when for 
 every soul rescued by their sacrifice the saloon made two 
 more that needed rescue? 
 
 He could not escape the question. It was the same that 
 Virginia had put to Rachel in her statement that, in her 
 opinion, nothing really would ever be done until the saloon 
 was taken out of the Rectangle. Henry Maxwell went 
 back to his parish work that afternoon with added convic- 
 tions on the license business. 
 
 But if the saloon were a factor in the problem of the 
 life of Raymond, no less was the First Church and its lit- 
 tle company of disciples who had pledged themselves to do 
 as Jesus Avould do. Henry MaxAvell. standing at the very 
 center of the movement, was not in a position to judge of 
 its povror as some one from the outside might have done. 
 lint Raymond itself felt the touch of this new discipleship 
 and was changed in very many ways, not knowing all th( 
 reasons for the change. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 171 
 
 The winter had gone and the year was ended, the 
 j-ear which Henry Maxwell had fixed as the time during 
 which the pledge should be kept to do as Jesus would do. 
 Sunday, the anniversary of that one a year ago, was in 
 many ways the most remarkable day the First Church ever 
 knew. It was more Important than the disciples in tho 
 First Church realized. The year had made history so fast 
 and so serious that the people were not yet able to grasp 
 its significance. And the day itself which marked the com- 
 pletion of a whole year of such discipleship was character- 
 ized by such revelations and confessions that the immediate 
 actors in the events themselves could not understand the 
 value of what had been done, or tne relation of their trial 
 to the rest of the churches and cities in the country. 
 
 It happened that the week before that anniversary Sun- 
 day, the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth Avenue 
 Church, Chicago, was in Raymond, where he had come on 
 a visit to some old friends and incidentally to see his old 
 seminary classmate, Henry Maxwell. He was present at 
 the First Church and was an exceedingly attentive and 
 interested spectator. His account of events in Raymond 
 and especially of that Sunday may throw more light ou 
 the entire situation than any description or record from 
 other sources. Dr. Bruce's statement is therefore here 
 given. 
 
 [Letter from Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth 
 Avenue Church, Chicago, to Rev. Philip S. Caxton, D.D., 
 New York City.] 
 •*My Dear Caxton: 
 
 "It is late Sunday night, but I am so intensely awake 
 and so overflowing with what I have seen and heard that 
 I feel driren to write yoXi now some account of the situa- 
 
172 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 tion in Raymond, as I have been studying it and as it has 
 apparently come to a climax to-day. So this is my only 
 excuse for writing so extended a letter at this time. 
 
 "You remember Henry Maxwell in the Seminary. I 
 think you said, the last time I visited you in New York, that 
 you had not seen him since we graduated. He was a 
 refined, scholarly fellow, you remember, and when he was 
 called to the First Church of Raymond within a year after 
 leaving the Seminary, I said to my wife, 'Raymond has 
 made a good choice. Maxwell will satisfy them as a 
 sermonizer.' He has been here eleven years, and I under- 
 stand that up to a year ago he had gone on In the regular 
 course of the ministry, giving good satisfaction and draw- 
 ing a good congregation to his morning preaching service. 
 His church was counted the largest, most wealthy church 
 in Raymond. All the best people attended it, and most of 
 them belonged. The quartette choir was famous for its 
 music, especially for its soprano. Miss Winslow, of whom I 
 shall have more to say; and on the whole, as I understand 
 the facts, Maxwell was in a comfortable berth, with a very 
 good salary, pleasant surroundings, not a very exacting 
 parish of refined, rich, respectable people, such a church 
 and parish as nearly all the young men in the Seminary 
 in our time looked forward to as very desirable. 
 
 "But a year ago to-day, Maxwell came into his church 
 on Sunday morning, and at the close of his service made 
 the astounding proposition that the members of his church 
 volunteer for a year not to do anything without first ask- 
 ing the question, 'What would Jesus do?' and, after answer- 
 ing it, to do what in their honest judgment He would do, 
 regardless of what the result might be to them. 
 
 "The effect of this proposition, as it has been met and 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 173 
 
 obej-ed by a number of the members of the First Church 
 of Raj^mond, has been so remarkable, that, as you know, 
 the attention of the whole country has been directed to the 
 movement. I call it a 'movement' because, from the action 
 taken to-day, it seems probable that what has been tried 
 here in the First Church in Raymond will reach out into the 
 other churches and cause a revolution in church methods, 
 but more especially in a new definition of Christian disciple 
 ship. 
 
 "In the first place. Maxwell tells me he was aston- 
 ished at the response made to his proposition. Some of the 
 most prominent members in the church made the promise 
 to do as Jesus would. Among them were Edward Norman, 
 the editor of the daily "News," which has made such a sen- 
 sation in the newspaper world; Milton Wright, one of the 
 leading merchants in Raymond; Alexander Powers, whose 
 action in the matter of the railroads against the interstate 
 commerce laws made such a stir about a year ago; Miss 
 Page, one of Raymond's leading society heiresses, who has 
 lately dedicated her entire fortune, as I understand, to the 
 Christian daily paper and the work of reform in the slum 
 district known as the Rectangle; and Miss Winslow, whose 
 reputation as a singer is now national, but who in obedi- 
 ence to what she has decided to be Jesus' probable action, 
 has devoted her talent to volunteer work among the girls 
 and women who make up a large part of the city's worst 
 and most abandoned population. 
 
 "In addition to these well-known people has been a 
 gradually increasing number of Christians from the First 
 Church, and lately from other churches in Raymond. A 
 large proportion of these volunteers who pledge themselves 
 to do as Jesus would comes from the Endeavor Societies. 
 
174 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 The youug people say that they have already embodied in 
 then- society pledge the same principle in the words, "I 
 promise Him that I will strive to do whatever He would 
 have me do." This is not exactly what is included in 
 Maxwell's proposition, which is that the disciples shall try 
 to do what Jesus would probably do in the disciple's place. 
 But the result of an honest obedience to either pledge, he 
 claims, will be practically the same , and he is not surprised 
 that the largest numbers have joined the new discipleship 
 from the Endeavor Society. 
 
 "I am sure the first question you will ask is, 'What has 
 been the result of this attempt? What has it accomplished, 
 or how has it changed in any way the regular course of the 
 church or the community?' 
 
 "You already know something, from reports of Ray- 
 mond that have gone over the country, what the results 
 have been. But one needs to come here and learn some- 
 thing of the changes in individual lives, and especially the 
 change in the church life, to realize all that is meant by 
 this following of Jesus' steps so literally. To tell all that, 
 would be to write a long story or series of stories. I am not 
 in a position to do that, but I can give you some idea, per- 
 haps, of what has happened here from what has been 
 told me by my friends and Henry Maxwell himself. 
 
 "The result of the pledge upon the First Church has 
 been twofold. It has brought about a spirit of Christian 
 fellowship which Maxwell tells me never before existed, 
 and which now impresses him as being very nearly what 
 the Christian fellowship of the apostolic churches must 
 have been; and it has divided the church into two distinct 
 groups of members. Those who have not taken the pledge 
 regard the others as foolishly literal in their attempts to 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 175 
 
 imitate the example of Jesus. Some of them have drawn 
 out of the church and no longer attend, or they have 
 removed their membership entirely to other churches. Some 
 are an internal element of strife, and I heard rumors of an 
 attempt on their part to force Maxwell's resignation. I do 
 not know that this element is very strong in the church. 
 It has been held in check by a wonderful continuance of 
 spiritual power, which dates from the first Sunday the 
 pledge was taken a year ago, and also by the fact that so 
 many of the most prominent members have been identi- 
 fied with the movement. 
 
 "The effect on Henry Maxwell is very marked. I heard 
 him preach at our State Association four years ago. Ho 
 impressed me at the time as having considerable power 
 in dramatic delivery, of vrhich he himself was somewhat 
 conscious. His sermon was well written and abounded 
 in what the Seminary students used to call 'fine passages.' 
 The effect of it was Avhat the average congregation would 
 call pleasing. This morning I heard Maxwell preach again 
 for the first time since then. I shall speak of that far- 
 ther on. He is not the same man. He gives me the 
 impression of one who has passed through a crisis of revo- 
 lution. He tells me this revolution is simply a new defini- 
 tion of Christian discipleship. He certainly has changed 
 many of his old views. His attitude on the saloon ques- 
 tion is radically opposite to the one he entertained a year 
 ago. And in his entire thought of his ministry, his pul- 
 pit and parish work, I find he has made a complete change. 
 So far as I can understand, the idea that is moving him 
 on now is the idea that the Christianity of our times must 
 represent a more literal imitation of Jesus, and especially 
 in the element of suffering. He quoted to me in the course 
 
176 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 of our conversation several times the verse from Peter: 
 "For hereunto were ye called, because Christ also suffered 
 for you, leaving you an example, that ye should follow His 
 steps;' and he seems filled with the conviction that what 
 our churches need to-day more than anything else is this 
 factor of suffering for Jesus in some form. 
 
 "I do not linow as I agree with him altogether; but, 
 my dear Caxton, it is certainly astonishing to note the 
 results of this idea as they have impressed themselves upon 
 this city and this church. 
 
 "You ask how about the results on the individuals 
 who have made the pledge and honestly tried to be true 
 to it. Those results are, as I have said, a part of individual 
 history and cannot be told in detail. Some of them I can 
 give you so that you may see that this form of discipleship 
 is not merely sentiment or fine posing for effect. 
 
 "For instance, take the case of Alexander Powers who 
 was Superintendent of the. Machine Shops of the L. and 
 T. R. R. here. When he acted upon the evidence that 
 incriminated the road, he lost his position and, more than 
 that, I learn from my friends here, his family and social 
 relations have become so changed that the family no 
 longer appear in public. They have dropped out of the 
 social circle where once they were so prominent. By the 
 Avay, Caxton, I understand in this connection that the 
 Commission, for one reason and another, postponed action 
 on this case, and it is now rumored that the L. and T. R. R. 
 will pass into a receiver's hands very soon. The President 
 of the road, who, according to the evidence submitted by 
 Powers, was the principal offender, has resigned, and com- 
 plications which have arisen since point to the receivership. 
 Meanwhile, the Superintendent has gone back to his old 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 177 
 
 work as a telegraph operator. I met him at the church 
 yesterday. He impressed me as a man who had, like Max- 
 well, gone through a crisis in character. I could not help 
 thinking of him as being good material for the church of 
 the first century when the disciples had all things in com- 
 mon. 
 
 "Or take the case of Mr. Norman, editor of the 'Daily 
 News.' He risked his entire fortune in obedience to what 
 he believed was Jesus' probable action and revolutionized 
 his entire conduct of the paper at the risk of a failure. I 
 send you a copy of yesterday's paper. I want you to read 
 it carefully. To my mind it is one of the most interesting 
 and remarkable papers ever printed in the United States. 
 It is open to criticism, but what could any mere man 
 attempt in this line that would be free from criticism? 
 Take it all in all, it is so far above the ordinary conception 
 of a daily paper that I am amazed at the result. He tells 
 me that the paper is beginning to be read more and more 
 by the Christian people of the city. He is very confident 
 of its final success. 
 
 "Read his editorial on the money question, also the one 
 on the coming election in Raymond, when the question of 
 license will again be an issue. Both articles are of the 
 best from his point of view. He says he never begins an 
 editorial or, in fact, any part of his newspaper work, witli- 
 out first asking, 'What would Jesus do?' The result is cer- 
 tainly apparent. 
 
 "Then, there is Milton "Wright, the merchant. He has, 
 I am told, so revolutionized his business that no man is 
 more beloved to-day in Raymond. His own clerks and 
 employes have affection for him that is very touching. Dur- 
 ing the winter, while he was \y\ug dangerously ill at his 
 
178 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 home, scores of clerks volunteered to watch or help in any 
 possible way, and his return to his store was greeted with 
 marked demonstrations. All this has been brought about 
 by the element of personal love introduced into the busi- 
 ness. This love is not mere words, but the business itself 
 is carried on under a system of co-operation that is not a 
 patronizing recognition of inferiors but a real sharing in 
 the entire business. Other men on the street look upon 
 Milton Wright as odd. It is a fact, how^ever, that while he 
 has lost heavily in some directions, he has increased his 
 business and is today respected and honored as one of the 
 best and most successful merchants in Raymond. 
 
 "And there is Miss Winslow^ She has chosen to give 
 her great talent to the poor and wretched of the city. Her 
 plans include a Musical Institute w^here choruses and 
 classes in vocal music shall be a feature. She is enthusias- 
 tic over her life work. In connection with her friend Miss 
 Page, she has planned a course in music which, if carried 
 out, will certainly do much to lift up the lives of the people 
 dowm there. I am not too old, my dear Caxton, to be 
 interested in the romantic side of much that has also been 
 tragic here in Eaymond, and I must tell you that it is well 
 understood here that Miss Winslow expects to be married 
 this spring to a brother of Miss Page, who was once a 
 society leader and club man, and who w^as converted in a 
 tent w^here his wife that-is-to-be took an active part in the 
 service. I don't know all the details of this little romance, 
 but I can imagine there is a little story wrapped up in it, 
 and it would be interesting reading if we only knev/ it all. 
 
 "These are only a few^ illustrations of results in indi- 
 vidual lives owing to obedience to the pledge. I meant to 
 have spoken of President Marsh of Lincoln College. He is a 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 179 
 
 graduate of my alma mater, and I knew him slightly when 
 I was iu the senior year. He has taken an active part in 
 the recent municipal agitation, and his influence in the city 
 is regarded as a very large factor in the coming election. 
 He impressed me, as did all the other disciples in this move- 
 ment, as having fought out some hard questions and as 
 having taken up some real burdens that have caused, and 
 still do cause, that suffering of which Henry Maxwell 
 speaks, a suffering that does not eliminate, but does appear 
 to intensify a positive and practical joy. 
 
 "But I am prolonging this letter, possibly to your weari- 
 ness. I am unable to avoid the feeling of fascination 
 Avhich my entire stay here has increased. I want to tell 
 you something of the meeting in the First Church to-day. 
 
 "As I said, I heard Maxwell preach. At his earnest 
 request I had preached for him the Sunday before, and this 
 was the first time I had heard him since the Association 
 four years ago. His sermon this morning was as different 
 from his sermon then as if it had been thought out and 
 preached by some one living on another planet. I was pro- 
 foundly touched. I believe I actually shed tears once. 
 Others in the congregation were moved like myself. His 
 text was, 'What is that to thee? Follow thou me.' And it 
 was a most unusually impressive appeal to the Christians of 
 Raymond to obey Jesus' teachings and follow in His steps 
 regardless of what others might do. I cannot give you even 
 the plan of the sermon. It Avould take too long. At the 
 close of the service, there was the usual after-meeting that 
 has become a regular feature of the First Church. Into 
 this meeting have come all those who made the pledge to do 
 as Jesus would do, and the time is spent in mutual fellow- 
 ship, confession, questions as to what Jesus would do in 
 
180 [N HIS STEPS. 
 
 special cases, and prayer that the one great guide of every 
 disciple's conduct may be the Holy Spirit. 
 
 "Maxwell asked me to come into this meeting. Noth- 
 ing in all. my ministerial life, Caxton, has so moved me as 
 that meeting. I never felt the Spirit's presence so power- 
 fully. It was a meeting of reminiscences and of the most 
 loving fellowship. I was irresistibly driven in thought 
 back to the first years of Christianity. There was some- 
 thing about all this that was apostolic in its simplicity and 
 Christ imitation. 
 
 "I asked questions. One that seemed to arouse more 
 interest than any other was in regard to the extent of the 
 Christian disciple's sacrifice of personal property. Henry 
 Maxwell tells me that, so far, no one has interpreted the 
 spirit of Jesus in such a way as to abandon his earthly pos- 
 sessions, give away all his wealth, or in any literal way 
 imitate the Christians of the order, for example, of St. 
 Francis of Assisi. It was the unanimous consent, how- 
 ever, that if any disciple should feel that Jesus in his own 
 particular case would do that, there could be only one 
 answer to the question. Maxwell frankly admitted that 
 he was still, to a certain degree, uncertain as to Jesus' 
 probable action when it came to the details of household 
 living, the possession of wealth, the holding of certain luxu- 
 ries. It is however, very evident, that very many of these 
 disciples have repeatedly carried their obedience to Jesus 
 to the extreme limit, regardless of financial loss. There is 
 no lack of courage or consistency at this point. It is also 
 true that some of the business men who took the pledge 
 have lost great sums of money in this imitation of Jesus, 
 and very many have, like Alexander Powers, lost valuable 
 positions owing to the impossibility of doing what they had 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 181 
 
 been accustomed to do and at the same time doing what 
 they felt Jesus would do in the same place. In connection 
 W'ith these cases it is pleasant to record the fact that many 
 who have suffered in this way have at once been helped 
 tiuancially by those who still have means. In this respect 
 I think it is true that these disciples have all things in com- 
 mon. Certainly such scenes as I witnessed at the First 
 Church at that after-service this morning I never saw in 
 my church or any other. I never dreamed that such Chris- 
 tian fellowship could exist in this age of the world. I am 
 almost incredulous as to the witness of my own senses. 
 I still seem to be asking myself if this is the close of the 
 nineteenth century in America. 
 
 "But now, dear friend, I come to the real cause of the 
 letter, the real heart of the whole question as the First 
 Church of Raymond has forced it upon me. Before the 
 meeting closed to-day, steps were taken to secure the co-op- 
 eration of all other Christian disciples in this country. I 
 think Henry Maxwell took this step after long deliberation. 
 He said as much to me one day when I called upon him 
 and we w'ere discussing the effect of this movement upon 
 the church in general. 
 
 '• 'Why,' he said, 'suppose that the church membership 
 px'uerally in this country made this pledge and lived up to 
 it! What a revolution it would cause in Christendom! But 
 why not? Is it any more than the disciple ought to do? 
 Has he followed Jesus unless he is willing to do this? Is 
 the test of discipleship any less to-day than it was in .Tesus' 
 time?' 
 
 "I do not know all that preceded or followed his 
 thought of what ought to be done outside of Raymond, but 
 the idea crystalized to-day in a plan to secure the fellow- 
 
182 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ship of all the Christians in America. The churches 
 through their pastors will be asked to form disciple gather- 
 ings like the one in the First Church. Volunteers will be 
 called for in the great body of church members in the 
 United States who will promise to do as Jesus would do. 
 Maxwell spoke particularly of the result of such general 
 action on the saloon question. He is terribly in earnest 
 over this. He told me that there Avas no question in his 
 mind that the saloon would be beaten in Raymond at the 
 election now near at hand. If so, they could go on with 
 some courage to do the redemptive work begun by the* 
 evangelist and now taken up by the disciples in his own 
 church. If the saloon triumphs again, there will be a 
 terrible and, as he thinks, unnecessary waste of Christian 
 sacrifice. But however we differ on that point, he has 
 convinced his church that the time has come for a fellow- 
 ship with other Christians. Surely, if the First Church 
 could work such changes in society and its surroundings, 
 the church in general if combining such fellowship, not 
 of creed but of conduct, ought to stir the entire nation to 
 a higher life and a new conception of Christian following. 
 "This is a grand idea, Caxton, but right here is where 
 I find myself hesitating. 1 do not deny that the Chris- 
 tian disciple ought to follow Christ's steps as closely as 
 these here in Raymond have tried to do. But I cannot 
 avoid asking what the result will be if I ask my church in 
 Chicago to do it. I am writing this after feeling the sol- 
 emn profound touch of the Spirit's presence, and I confess 
 to you, old friend, that I cannot call up in my church a 
 dozen prominent business or professional men who would 
 make this trial at the risk of all that they hold dear. Can 
 you do any better in your church? What are we to say? 
 
**WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 183 
 
 That the church would not respond to the call, 'Come and 
 suffer?' The actual results of the pledge as obeyed here 
 in Raymond are enough to make any pastor tremble and, 
 at the same time, long with yearning that they might occur 
 in his own parish. Certainly, never have I seen a church 
 so signallj' blessed by the Spirit as this one. But— am I 
 myself readj' to take this pledge? I ask the question hon- 
 estly and I dread to face an honest answer. I know well 
 enough that I would have to change very much in my life 
 if I undertook to folloAv His steps so closely. I have called 
 myself a Christian for many years. For the past ten years 
 I have enjoyed a life that has comparatively little suffering 
 in it. I am, honestly I say it, living at a long distance 
 from municipal problems and the life of the poor, . the 
 degraded and the abandoned. What would the obedience 
 to this pledge demand of me? I hesitate to answer. My 
 church is wealthy, full of well-to-do, satisfied people. The 
 standard of their discipleship ,is, I am aware, not of a 
 nature to respond to the call to suffering or personal loss. 
 I say, 'I am aware.' I may be mistaken. I may have erred 
 in not stirring their deeper life. Caxton, my friend, I have 
 spoken my inmost thought to you. Shall I go back to my 
 people next Sunday and stand up before them in my large 
 city church and say, 'Let us follow Jesus closer. Let us 
 walk in His steps where it will cost us something more 
 than it is costing us now. Let us pledge not to do anything 
 without first asking, "What would Jesus do?" ' If I should 
 go before them with that message, it would be a strange and 
 startling one to them. But why? Are we not really to fol- 
 low Him all the way? What is it to be a follower of Jesus? 
 What does it mean to imitate Him? What does it mean to 
 walk in His steps?" 
 
184 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 The Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth Avenue 
 Church, Chicago, let his pen fall on the paper. He had 
 come to the parting of the ways, and his question, he felt 
 sure, was the question of many and many a man in the 
 ministry and in the church. He went to his window and 
 opened it. He was oppressed with the weight of his con- 
 victions and he felt almost suffocated with the air of the 
 room. He wanted to see the stars and feel the breath of 
 the world. 
 
 The night was very still. The clock in the First Church 
 was strilving midnight. As it finished, a clear strong 
 voice down in the direction of the Rectangle came floating 
 up to him as if borne on radiant pinions. 
 
 "Must Jesus bear the cross alone, 
 
 And all the world go free? 
 No! There's a cross for every one, 
 
 And there's a cross for me." 
 
 It was the voice of one of Gray's old converts, a night 
 watchman at the packing houses, who sometimes solaced 
 his lonesome hours by a verse or two from some familiar 
 hymn. 
 
 The Rev. Calvin Bruce turned away from the window 
 and, after a little hesitation, he kneeled down. "What 
 would Jesus do? What would Jesus do?" Never had he 
 yielded himself so completely to the Spirit's searching 
 revealing of Jesus. He was on his knees a long time. 
 He retired and slept fitfully with many awakenings. He 
 rose before it was clear dawn, and threw open his window 
 again. As the light in the east grew stronger, he repeated 
 to himself, "What would Jesus do? What would He do? 
 Shall I follow His steps?" 
 
 The sun rose and flooded the city with its power. When 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 185 
 
 shall the dawn of a uew discipleshii) usher in the conquer- 
 ing triumph of a closer walli with Jesus? When shall 
 Christendom tread more closely the path He made? 
 
 "It is the way the Master trod, 
 Shall not the servant tread it still?" 
 
 With this question throbbing through his whole being, 
 the Rev. Calvin Bruce went back to Chicago, and the great 
 crisis of his Christian life in the ministry suddenly broke 
 irresistibly upon him. 
 
CHAPTER IX* 
 
 "Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest/* 
 
 The Saturday matinee at the Auditorium in Chicago 
 was just over; and the usual crowd was struggling to get 
 to its carriage before any one else. The Auditorium attend- 
 ant was shouting out the number of different carriages 
 and the carriage doors Avere slamming as the horses were 
 driven rapidly to the curb, held there impatient by the 
 drivers who had shivered long in the raw east wind, and 
 then let go to plunge for a few minutes into the river of 
 vehicles that tossed under the elevated railway and finally 
 went whirling off up the avenue. 
 
 "Now, then, 624!" shouted the Auditorium attendant; 
 •*624!" he repeated, and there dashed up to the curb a splen- 
 did span of black horses attached to a carriage having the 
 monogram, "C. R. S." in gilt letters on the panel of the 
 door. 
 
 Two girls stepped out of the crowd towards the car- 
 riage. The older one had entered and taken her seat, 
 and the attendant was still holding the door open for the 
 younger who stood hesitating on the curb. 
 
 "Come, Felicia! What are you waiting for! I shall 
 freeze to death!" called the voice from the carriage. 
 
 The girl outside of the carriage hastily unpinned a bunch 
 of English violets from her dress and handed them to a 
 small boy who was standing shivering on the edge of the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 187 
 
 sidewalk, almost under the horses' feet. He took them with 
 a look of astonishment and a "Thank ye, lady!" and 
 Instantly buried a very grimy face in the bunch of perfume. 
 The girl stepped into the carriage, the door shut with the 
 incisive bang peculiar to well-made carriages of this sort, 
 and in a few moments the coachman was speeding tb? 
 horses rapidly up one of the boulevards. 
 
 "You are always doing some queer thing or other, 
 Felicia," said the older girl as the carriage whirled on past 
 the great residences already brilliantly lighted. 
 
 "Am I? What have I done that is queer now, Rose?" 
 asked the other looking up suddenly and turning her head 
 towards her sister, 
 
 "Oh, giving those violets to that boy. He looked as if 
 he needed a good hot supper more than a bunch of violets. 
 It's a wonder you didn't invite him home with us. I 
 shouldn't have been surprised if you had. You are always 
 doing such queer things, Felicia." 
 
 "Would it be queer to invite a boy like that to come to 
 the house and get a hot supper?" Felicia asked the ques- 
 tion softly and almost as if she were alone. 
 
 "Queer, isn't just the word of course," replied Rose 
 Indifferently. "It would be what Madam Blanc calls 
 'outre.' Decidedly. Therefore, you will please not invite 
 him, or others like him, to hot suppers because I sug- 
 gested it. Oh, dear I I'm awfully tired 1" 
 
 She yawned and Felicia silently looked out of the win- 
 dow in the door. 
 
 "The concert was stupid, and the violinist was simply 
 a bore. I don't see how you could sit so still through it 
 all," Rose exclaimed a little iirspatiently. 
 
188 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 "I liked the music," answered Felicia quietly. 
 
 "You like anything. I never saw a girl with so little 
 critical taste." 
 
 Felicia colored slightly but would not answer. Rose 
 yawned again, and then hummed a fragment of a popular 
 song. Then she exclaimed abruptly, 
 
 "I'm sick of most everything. I hope the 'Shadows of 
 London' will be exciting to-night." 
 
 "The 'Shadows of Chicago,' " murmured Felicia. 
 
 "The 'Shadow^s of Chicago!' 'The Shadows of London,' 
 the play, the great drama with its wonderful scenery, the 
 sensation of New York for two months. You know we 
 have a box with the Delanos to-night." 
 
 Felicia turned her face towards her sister. Her great 
 brown eyes were very expressive and not altogether free 
 from a sparkle of luminous heat. 
 
 "And yet we never weep over the real thing on the 
 actual stage of life. What are the shadows of London on 
 the stage to the shadows of London or Chicago as they 
 really exist? Why don't we get excited over the facts as 
 they are?" 
 
 "Because the actual people are dirty and disagreeable 
 and it's too much bother, I suppose," replied Rose care- 
 lessly. "Felicia, you never can reform the world. What's 
 the use? We're not to blame for the poverty and misery. 
 There have always been rich and poor. And there always 
 will be. We ought to be thankful we're rich." 
 
 "Suppose Christ had gone on that principle," replied 
 Felicia with unusual persistence. "Do you remember Dr. 
 Bruce' s sermon on that verse a few Sundays ago: 'For ye 
 know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 189 
 
 was rich, j'et for our sakes he became poor, that ye through 
 his poverty might become rich'?" 
 
 "I remember it well enough," said Rose with some 
 petulance. "And didn't Dr. Bruce go on to say that there 
 was no blame attached to people who have wealth, if they 
 are kind and give to the needs of the poor? And I am sure 
 the Doctor hin?^ '^ is pretty comfortably settled. He never 
 gives up his luxuries just because some people in the city 
 go hungry. What good would it do if he did' . I tell you, 
 Felicia, there will always be poor and rich in spite of all we 
 can do. Ever since Kachel has written about the queer 
 doings in Raymond, you have upset the whole family. Peo- 
 ple can't live at that concert pitch all the time. You see 
 if Rachel doesn't give it up soon. It's a great pity she 
 doesn't come to Chicago and sing in the Auditorium con- 
 certs. I heard to-day she had received an offer. I'm going 
 to write and urge her to come. I'm just dying to hear her 
 sing." 
 
 Felicia looked out of the window and was silent. The 
 carriage rolled on past two blocks of magnificent private 
 residences and turned into a wide driveway under a cov- 
 ered passage, and the sisters hurried into the house. It 
 was an elegant mansion of grey stone, furnished like a 
 palace, every corner of it warm with the luxury of paint- 
 ings, sculpture, art and modern refinement. 
 
 The owner of it all, Mr. Charles R. Sterling, stood before 
 an open grate fire smoking a cigar. He had made his 
 money in grain speculation and railroad ventures, and was 
 reputed to be worth something over two millions. His wife 
 was a sister of Mrs. Winslow of Raymond. She had been 
 an invalid for several years. The two girls. Rose and 
 Felicia, were the only children. Rose was twenty-one 
 
190 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 years old, fair, vivacious, educated in a fashionable college, 
 just entering society and already somewhat cynical and 
 Indifferent. A very hard young lady to please, her father 
 said sometimes playfully, sometimes sternly. Felicia was 
 nineteen, with a tropical beauty somewhat lilie her cousin 
 Ilachel Winslow,with warm, generous impulses just walking 
 into Christian feeling, capable of all sorts of expression, 
 a puzzle to her father, a source of irritation to her mother 
 and with a great, unsurveyed territory of thought and 
 action in herself of which she was more than dimly con- 
 scious. There was that in Felicia that would easily endure 
 any condition in life, if only the liberty to act fully on her 
 conscientious convictions were granted her. 
 
 "Here's a letter for you. Felicia," said Mr. Sterling, 
 taking it out of his pocket. 
 
 Felicia sat down and instantly opened the letter, say- 
 ing as she did so, "It's from Rachel." 
 
 "Well, whafs the latest news from Raymond?" asked 
 Mr. Sterling, taking his cigar out of his mouth and looking 
 at Felicia as he often did with half-shut eyes, as if he were 
 studying her. 
 
 "Rachel says Dr. Bruce has been studying in Raymond 
 for two Sundays and has seemed very much interested in 
 Mr. Maxwell's pledge in the First Church." 
 
 "What does Rachel say about herself?" asked Rose who 
 was lying on a couch almost buried under half a dozen ele- 
 gant cushions. 
 
 "She is still singing at the Rectangle. Since the tent 
 meetings closed, she sings in an old hall until the new 
 buildings her friend Virginia Page is putting up are com- 
 pleted." 
 
 •'I must write Rachel to come to Chicago and visit us. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO!" 191 
 
 She ought not to throw away her voice in that raih'oad 
 town upon all those people who don't appreciate her." 
 
 Mr. Sterling lighted a new cigar and Rose exclaimed, 
 
 "Rachel is awful queer, I think. She might set Chicago 
 Avild with her voice if she sang in the Auditorium. And 
 there she goes on, throwing her voice away on people who 
 don't know what they are hearing." 
 
 "Rachel won't come here unless she can do it and keep 
 her pledge at the same time," said Felicia after a pause. 
 
 "What pledge?" Mr. Sterling asked the question and 
 then added hastily, "Oh, I know; yes. A very peculiar 
 thing, that. Powers used to be a friend of mine. We 
 learned telegraphy in the same office. Made a great sen- 
 sation when he resigned and handed over that evidence to 
 the Interstate Commerce Commission. And he's back at 
 his telegraph again. There have been queer doings in 
 Raymond during the past year. I wonder what Dr. Bruce 
 thinks of it on the whole. I must have a talk with hin) 
 about it." 
 
 "He preaches to-morrow." said Felicia. "Perhaps he 
 will tell us something about it." 
 
 There was silence for a minute. Then Felicia said 
 abruptly, as if she had gone on with a spoken thought to 
 some invisible hearer, "And what if he should propose the 
 same pledge to the Nazareth Avenue Church?" 
 
 "Who? "N^'hat are you talking about?" asked her 
 father a little sharply. 
 
 "About Dr. Bruce. I say, what if he should propose to 
 our church what Mr. Maxwell proposed to his, and ask for 
 volunteers who would pledge themselves to do everything 
 after asking the question, 'What vxould Jesus do?'" 
 
192 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "There's no clanger of it," said Rose rising suddenly 
 from the couch as the tea-bell rang. 
 
 "It's a very impracticable movement, to my mind," said 
 Mr. Sterling sharply. 
 
 "I understand from Rachel's letter that the church in 
 Raymond is going to make an attempt to extend the idea 
 of the pledge to the other churches. If they succeed, they 
 will certainly make great changes in the churches and in 
 people's lives," said Felicia. 
 
 "Oh, well, let's have some tea first," said Rose walking 
 into the dining-room. Her father and Felicia followed 
 and the meal proceeded in silence. Mrs. Sterling had her 
 meals served in her room. Mr. Sterling was preoccupied. 
 He ate very little and excused himself early, and although 
 it was Saturday night he remarked as he went out that he 
 would be down town late on some special business. 
 
 "Don't you think Father looks very much disturbed 
 lately?" asked Felicia a little while after he had gone out. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. I hadn't noticed anything unusual." 
 replied Rose. After a silence she said, "Are you going to 
 the play to-night, Felicia? Mrs. Delano will be here at half 
 past seven. I think you ought to go. She will feel hurt if 
 you refuse." 
 
 "I'll go. I don't care about it. I can see shadows enough 
 without going to the play." 
 
 "That's a doleful remark for a girl nineteen years old 
 to make," replied Rose. "But then you're queer in your 
 ideas anyhow, Felicia. If you're going up to see Mother, 
 tell her I'll run in after the play, if she is still awake." 
 
 Felicia went up to see her mother and remained Avith 
 her until the Delano carriage came. Mrs. Sterling was 
 worried about her husband. She talked incessantly and 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 193 
 
 was irritated by every remark Felicia made. She would 
 not listen to Felicia's attempts to read even a part of 
 Rachel's letter, and when Felicia offered to stay with her 
 for the evening- she refused the offer with a good deal of 
 positive sharpness. 
 
 So Felicia started off to the play not very happy, but 
 she was familiar with that feeling, only sometimes she was 
 more unhappy than at other times. Her feeling expressed 
 itself to-night by a withdrawal into herself. When the 
 company was seated in the box and the curtain was up, 
 Felicia was back of the others and remained for the even- 
 ing by herself. Mrs. Delano as chaperon for a half dozen 
 young ladies, understood Felicia well enough to know that 
 she was "queer," as Rose so often said, and she made no 
 attempt to draw her out of the corner. And so Felicia really 
 experienced that night by herself one of the feelings that 
 added to the momentum that was increasing the coming on 
 of her great crisis. 
 
 The play was an English melodrama full of startling 
 situations, realistic scenery and unexpected climaxes. There 
 was one scene in the third act that impressed even Rose 
 Sterling. 
 
 It was midnight on Blackfriar's Bridge. The Thames 
 flowed dark and forbidding below. St. Paul's rose through 
 the dim light, imposing, its dome seeming to float 
 above the buildings surrounding it. The figure of a 
 child came upon the bridge and stood there for a moment 
 peering about as if looking for some one. Several persons 
 were crossing the bridge, but in one of the recesses about 
 midway of the river a woman stood, leaning out over the 
 parapet with a strained agony of face and figure that told 
 plainly of her intentions. Just as she was stealthily mounting 
 
194 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the parapet to throw herself into the river, the child caught 
 sight of her, ran forward with a shrill cry more animal 
 than human, and seizing the woman's dress dragged back 
 upon it with all her little strength. Then there came sud- 
 denly upon the scene two other characters who had already 
 figured in the play, a tall, handsome, athletic gentleman 
 dressed in the fashion, attended by a slim-figured lad who 
 w^as as refined in dress and appearance as the little girl 
 clinging to her mother was mournfully hideous in her rags 
 and repulsive poverty. These two, the gentleman and the 
 lad, prevented the attempted suicide, and after a tableau on 
 the bridge where the audience learned that the man and 
 woman w^ere brother and sister, the scene was transferred 
 to the interior of one of the slum tenements in the East Side 
 of London. Here the scene painter and carpenter had done 
 their utmost to produce an exact copy of a famous court 
 and alley well known to the poor creatures who make up 
 a part of the outcast London humanity. The rags, the 
 crowding, the vileness, the broken furniture, the horrible 
 animal existence forced upon creatures made in God's 
 image, Avere so skillfully shown in this scene that more 
 than one elegant woman in the theater, seated like Rose 
 Sterling in a sumptuous box, surrounded with silk hangings 
 and velvet covered raillng,caught herself shrinking back a 
 little, as if contamination were possible from the nearness 
 of this piece of painted canvas. It was almost too realistic, 
 and yet it had a horrible fascination for Felicia as she sat 
 there alone, buried back in a cushioned seat and absorbed 
 in thoughts that went far beyond the dialogue on the 
 stage. 
 
 From the tenement scene the play shifted to the interior 
 of a nobleman's palace, and almost a sigh of relief went up 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 195 
 
 all over the house at the sight of the accustomed luxury of 
 the upper classes. The contrast was startling. It was 
 brought about by a clever piece of staging that allowed only 
 a few minutes to elapse between the slum and the palace 
 scenes. The dialogue continued, the actors came and w^ent 
 in their various roles, but upon Felicia the play made but 
 one distinct impression. In reality, the scenes on the bridge 
 and in the slum were only incidents in the story of the play 
 but Felicia found herself living those scenes over and over. 
 She had never philosophised about the causes of human 
 misery; she was not old enough, she had not the tempera- 
 ment that philosophises. But she felt intensely, and this was 
 not the first time she had felt the contrast thrust into her 
 feeling between the upper and the lower conditions of 
 human life. It had been growing upon her until it had 
 made her Avhat Rose called "queer" and the other people in 
 her circle of wealthy acquaintances called "very unusual". 
 It was simply the human problem in its extremes of riches 
 and poverty, its refinement and its vileness, which was, in 
 spite of her unconscious attempts to struggle against the 
 facts, burning into her life the impression that would in 
 the end transform her into either a woman of rare love 
 and self-sacrifice for the world, or a miserable enigma to 
 herself and all who knew her. 
 
 "Come, Felicia, aren't you going home?" said Rose. The 
 play was over, the curtain down, and people v.'ere going 
 noisily out, laughing and gossiping, as if "The Shadows of 
 London" were simply good diversion, as they were, put on 
 the stage so effectively. 
 
 Felicia rose and went out Avith the rest quietly, and 
 with tlie absorbed feeling that had actually left her in her 
 seat oblivious of the play's ending. She was never absent- 
 
196 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 minded, but often thought herself into a condition that left 
 her alone in the midst of a crowd. 
 
 "Well, what did you think of it?" asked Rose when the 
 sisters had reached home and were in the drawing-room. 
 Rose really had considerable respect for Felicia's judgment 
 of a play. 
 
 "I thought it was a pretty fair picture of real life." 
 
 "I mean the acting," said Rose annoyed. 
 
 "The bridge scene was well acted, especially the wom- 
 an's part. I thought the man overdid the sentiment a lit- 
 tle." 
 
 "Did you? I enjoyed that. And wasn't the scene 
 between the two cousins funny when they first learned that 
 they were related? But the slum scene was horrible. I 
 think they ought not to show such things in a play. They 
 are too painful." 
 
 "They must be painful in real life, too," replied Fe- 
 licia. 
 
 "Yes, but we don't have to look at the real thing. It's 
 bad enough at the theater where we pay for it." 
 
 Rose went into the drawing-room and began to eat from 
 a plate of fruit and cakes on the side-board. 
 
 "Are you going up to see Mother?" asked Felicia after 
 a while. She had remained in front of the drawing-room 
 fire. 
 
 "No," replied Rose from the other room. "I won't 
 trouble her to-night. If you go in, tell her I am too tired 
 to be agreeable." 
 
 So Felicia turned into her mother's room. As she went 
 up the great staircase and down the upper hall, the light 
 was burning there and the servant who always waited on 
 Mrs. Sterling was beckoning Felicia to come in. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" lOT 
 
 "Tell Clara to go out," exclaimed Mrs. Sterling, as Fe- 
 licia came up to the bed and kneeled by it. 
 
 Felicia was surprised, but she did as her mother bade 
 her and then inquired how she was feeling. 
 
 "Felicia," said her mother, "Can you pray?" 
 
 The question was so unlike any her mother had ever 
 asked before, that Felicia was startled. But she answered, 
 
 "Why, yes. Mother. What makes you ask such a ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Felicia, I am frightened. Your father— I have had 
 such strange fears about him all day. Something is wrong 
 with him. I want you to pray." 
 
 "Now? Here, Mother?" 
 
 "Yes. Pray, Felicia." 
 
 Felicia reached out her hand and took her mother's. It 
 was trembling. Mrs. Sterling had never shown much ten- 
 derness for her younger daughter, and her strange demand 
 now was the first real sign of any confidence in Felicia's 
 character. 
 
 The girl still kneeled, holding her mother's trembling 
 hand, and prayed. It was doubtful if she had ever prayed 
 aloud before. She must have said in her prayer the words 
 that her mother needed, for when it was silent in the room 
 the invalid was weeping softly and her nervous tension was 
 over. 
 
 Felicia stayed some time. When she was assured that 
 her mother would not need her any longer, she rose to go. 
 
 "Good night, Mother. You must let Clara call me, if 
 you feel bad in the night." 
 
 "I feel better now." Then as Felicia was moving away, 
 Mrs. Sterling said, "Won't you kiss me. Felicin?" 
 
 Felicia wont l)ack and bent over her mother. The kiss 
 
198 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 was almost as strange to her as the prayer had been. When 
 Felicia went out of the room, her cheelvs were wet with 
 tears. She had not cried since she was a little girl. 
 
 Sunday morning at the Sterling mansion was generally 
 very quiet. The girls usually went to church at eleven o'clocl<: 
 service. Mr. Sterling was not a member but a heavy con- 
 tributor, and he generally Avent to church in the morning. 
 This time he did not come down to breakfast, and finally 
 sent word by a servant that he did not feel well enough 
 to go out. So Rose and Felicia drove up to the door of the 
 Nazareth Avenue Church and entered the family pew alone. 
 
 When Dr. Bruce wallvcd out of the room at the rear of 
 the platform and went up to the pulpit to open the Bible 
 as his custom v/as, those who knew him best did not detect 
 anything unusual in his manner or his expression. He 
 proceeded with the service as usual. He was calm and his 
 voice was steady and firm. His praj^er was the first inti- 
 mation the people had of anything new or strange in the 
 service. It is safe to say that the Nazareth Avenue Church 
 had not heard Dr. Bruce offer such a prayer during the 
 twelve years he had been pastor there. How would a min- 
 ister be likely to pray who had come out of a revolution in 
 Christian feeling that had completely changed his definition 
 of what was meant by following Jesus? No one in Naza- 
 reth Avenue Church had any idea that the Rev. Calvin 
 Bruce, D.D.,the dignified, cultured, refined Doctor of Divin- 
 ity, had within a few days been crying like a little child, 
 on his knees, asking for strength and courage and Christ- 
 likeness to spealv his Sunday message; and yet the prayer 
 was an unconscious involuntary disclosure of the soul's 
 experience such as Nazareth Avenue people seldom heard, 
 and never before from that pulpit. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 199 
 
 In the hush that succeeded the prayer, a distinct wave 
 of spiritual power moved over the congregation. The most 
 careless persons in the church felt it. Felicia, whose sen- 
 sitive religious nature responded sv.iftly to every touch of 
 emotion, quivered under tlie passing of that supernatural 
 power; and when she lifted her head and lodged up at the 
 minister there was a loolc in her eyes that announced her 
 intense, eager anticipation of the scene that was to fol- 
 low. 
 
 And she was not alone in her attitude. There^was some- 
 thing in the prayer and the result of it that stirred many 
 and many a. disciple in Nazareth Avenue Church. All over 
 the house, men and women leaned forward; and when Dr. 
 Bruce began to speak of his visit to Raymond, in the open- 
 ing sentences of his address which this morning preceded 
 his sermon, there Avas an answering response in the church 
 that came back to him as he spoke, and thrilled him with 
 the hope of a spiritual baptism such as lie had never during 
 all his ministry experienced. 
 
 "I am just back from a visit to Raymond," Dr. Bruce 
 began, "And I want to tell you something of my impres- 
 sions of the movement there." 
 
 He paused, and his look went over his people with 
 yearning for them and, at the same time, with a great 
 uncertainty at his heart. How many of his rich, fashion- 
 able, refined, luxury-loving members would understand the 
 nature of the appeal he was soon to make to them? He 
 was altogether in the dark as to that. Nevertheless, he 
 had been through his desert and had come out of it ready 
 to suffer. He went on now. after that brief pause, and 
 told the story of his stay in Raymond. The people already 
 knew something of that experiment in the First Church. 
 
300 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 The whole country had watched the progress of the pledge 
 as it had become history in so many lives. Henry Maxwell 
 had at last decided that the time had come to seek 
 the fellowship of other churches throughout the country. 
 The new discipleship in Raymond had proved to be so valu- 
 able in its results that Henry Maxwell wished the church 
 in general to share with the disciples in Raymond. Already 
 there had begun a volunteer movement in many of the 
 churches throughout the country, acting on their own desire 
 to walk closer in the steps of Jesus. The Christian Endeavor 
 Societies had with enthusiasm, in many churches, taken the 
 pledge to do as Jesus would do, and the result was already 
 marked in a deeper spiritual life and a power in church 
 influence that was like a new birth for the members. 
 
 All this Dr. Bruce told his people simply and with a 
 personal interest that evidently led the way to his 
 announcement w^hich now followed. Felicia had listened 
 to every word with strained attention. She sat there 
 by the side of Rose, in contrast like fire beside snow, 
 although even Rose was as alert and excited as she 
 could be, 
 
 "Dear friends," he said, and for the first time since hi« 
 prayer the emotion of the occasion Avas revealed in his 
 voice and gesture, "I am going to ask that Nazareth Avenue 
 Church take the same pledge that Raymond Church has 
 taken. I know what this will mean to you and me. It 
 will mean the complete change of very many habits. It 
 Avill mean, possibly, social 1C)SS. It will mean very probably, 
 in many cases, loss of money. It will mean suffering. It 
 will mean what following Jesus meant in the first century, 
 and then it meant suffering, loss, hardship, separation from 
 everything un-Christian. But what does following Jesus 
 
••what would JESUS DO?" 201 
 
 mean? The test of tliscipleship is the same now as then. 
 Those of you who volunteer in the Nazareth Avenue 
 Church to do as Jesus would do, simply promise to walk 
 in His steps as He gave us commandment." 
 
 Again Rev. Calvin Bruce, pastor of Nazareth Avenue 
 Church, paused, and now the result of his announcement 
 was plainly visible in the stir that went over the congrega- 
 tion. He added in a quiet voice that all who volunteered 
 to make the pledge to do as Jesus would do, were asked to 
 remain after the morning service. 
 
 Instantly he proceeded with his sermon. His text was 
 from Matthew, viii:19, "Master, I will follow thee whither- 
 soever thou goest." 
 
 It was a sermon that touched the deep springs of con- 
 duct; it was a revelation to the people of the definition 
 their pastor had been learning; it took them back to the 
 first century of Christianity; above all, it stirred them 
 below the conventional thought of years as to the meaning 
 and purpose of church membership. It was such a sermon 
 as a man can preach once in a lifetime, and vrith enough 
 in it for people to live on all through a lifetime. 
 
 The service closed in a hush that was slowly broken. 
 People rose here and there a few at a time. There was a 
 reluctance in the movements of the people that w^as very 
 striking. 
 
 Rose, however, walked straight out of the pew, and as 
 she reached the aisle she turned her head and beckoned to 
 Felicia. By that time the congregation was rising all over 
 the church. 
 
 Felicia instantly answered her sister's look. 
 
 "I'm going to stay," she said, and Rose had heard her 
 speak in the same manner on other occnsions and knew 
 
202 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 that Felicia's resolve could not be changed. Nevertheless, 
 she went back into the pew two or three steps and faced 
 her. 
 
 "Felicia," she whispered, and there was a flush of anger 
 on her cheeks, "this is folly. What can you do? You will 
 bring disgrace upon the family. What will Father say? 
 Come." 
 
 Felicia looked at her but did not answer at once. Her 
 lips were moving with a petition that came from a depth of 
 feeling that measured a new life for her. She shook her 
 head. 
 
 "No, I am going to stay. I shall take the pledge. I am 
 ready to obey it. You do not know why I am doing this." 
 
 Rose gave her one look, and then turned and went out of 
 the pew and down the aisle. She did not even stop to 
 talk with her acquaintances, Mrs. Delano was going out 
 of the church just as Rose stepped into the vestibule. 
 
 "So you are not going to join the Doctor's volunteer 
 company?" Mrs. Delano asked in a queer tone that made 
 Rose redden. 
 
 "No, are you? It is simply absurd. I have always 
 regarded the Raymond movement as fanatical. You know 
 Cousin Rachel I^eeps us posted about it." 
 
 "Yes, I understand it is resulting in a great deal of 
 hardship in many cases. For my part I believe Dr. Bruce 
 had simply provoked a disturbance here. It will 
 result in splitting Nazareth Avenue Church. You see 
 if that isn't so. There are scores of people in the church 
 who are so situated that they can't take such a pledge and 
 keep it. I am one of them," added Mrs. Delano as she 
 went out with Rose. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 208 
 
 Wh^^n Rose reached home her father was standing in his 
 usual attitude before the open fireplace, smoking a cigar. 
 
 "Where is Felicia?" lije asked as Rose came in alone. 
 
 "She staj-ed to an after-meeting," replied Rose shortly. 
 She threw off her wraps and was going up-stairs when 
 Mr. Sterling called after her, 
 
 "An after-meeting? What do you mean?" 
 
 "Dr. Bruce asked the church to take the Raymond 
 pledge." 
 
 Mr. Sterling took his cigar out of his mouth and 
 twirled it nervously between his fingers. 
 
 "I didn't expect that of Dr. Bruce. Did many of the 
 members stay?" 
 
 "I don*t know. I didn't," replied Rose, and she went 
 up stairs leaving her father standing in the drawing-room. 
 
 After a few minutes he went to the window and stood 
 there looking out at the people driving on the boulevard. 
 His cigar had gone out but he still fingered it nervously. 
 Then he turned from the window^ and w^alked up and down 
 the room. A servant stepped across the hall and announced 
 dinner, and he told her to wait for Felicia. Rose came down 
 stairs and went into the library. And still Mr. Sterling 
 paced the drawing-room restlessly. 
 
 He had finally wearied of the walking, apparently, and 
 throwing himself into a chair was brooding over something 
 deeply when Felicia came in. 
 
 He rose and faced her. Felicia was evidently very 
 much moved by the meeting from which she had just come. 
 At the same time she did not wish to talk too much about 
 it. Just as she entered the drawing-room, Rose came in 
 from the library. 
 
204 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 "How mauy stayed?" she asked. Rose was curious. 
 At the same time she Avas slveptieal of the whole movement 
 in Raymond. 
 
 "About a hundred," replied Felicia, gravely. Mr. Ster- 
 ling looked surprised. Felicia was going out of the room. 
 He called to her. 
 
 "Do you really mean to keep the pledge?" he asked. 
 
 Felicia colored. Over her face and neck the warm blood 
 flowed as she answered, "You would not ask such a ques- 
 tion, Father, if you had been present at the meeting." She 
 lingered a moment in the room, then asked to be excused 
 from dinner for a while and went up to see her mother. 
 
 No one ever knew what that interview between Fe- 
 licia and her mother was. It is certain that she must have 
 told her mother something of the spiritual power that had 
 awed every person present in the company of disciples 
 from Nazareth Avenue Church who faced Dr. Bruce in 
 that meeting after the morning service. It is also certain 
 that Felicia had never known such an experience and never 
 would have thought of sharing it with her mother, if it had 
 not been for the prayer the evening before. Another fact 
 is also known of Felicia's experience at this time. When 
 she finally joined her father and Rose at the table, she 
 seemed unable to tell them much about the meeting. There 
 was a reluctance to speak of it, as one might hesitate to 
 attempt a description of a wonderful sunset to a person 
 who never talked about anything but the weather. When 
 that Sunday in the Sterling mansion was drawing to a close 
 and the soft, warm lights throughout the dwelling were 
 glowing through the great windows, in a corner of her 
 room, where the light was obscure, Felicia kneeled, and 
 when she raised her face and turned it towards the light. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 205 
 
 it was the face of a woman who had already defined for 
 herself the greatest issues of earthly life. 
 
 That same evening, after the Sunday evening service 
 the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D,, of Nazareth Avenue Church, 
 was talking over the events of the day with his wife. They 
 were of one heart and mind in the matter, and faced their 
 new future with all the faith and courage of new disci- 
 ples. Neither was deceived as to the probable results of 
 the pledge to themselves or to the church. 
 
 They had been talking but a little while when the bell 
 rang, and Dr. Bruce going to the door, exclaimed as he 
 opened it, "It is j'ou, Edward! Come in!" 
 
 There came into the hall a commanding figure. The 
 Bishop was of extraordinary height and breadth of shoul- 
 der, but of such good proportions that there was no thought 
 of ungainly or even of unusual size. The impression the 
 Bishop made on strangers was, first, that of great health, 
 and then of great affection. 
 
 He came into the parlor and greeted Mrs. Bruce, who 
 after a few moments was called out of the room, leaving 
 the two men together. 
 
 The Bishop sat in a deep, easy chair before the open 
 fire. There was just enough dampness in the early spring 
 of the year to make an open fire pleasant. 
 
 •'Calvin, you have taken a very serious step to-day," 
 he finally said, lifting his large, dark eyes to his old college 
 classmate's face. "1 heard of it this afternoon. I could 
 not resist the desire to see you about it to-night." 
 
 "I'm glad you came." Dr. Bruce sat near the Bishop 
 and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You understand what 
 this means, Edward?" 
 
 "I think I do. Yes, I am sure." The Bishop spoke very 
 
306 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 slowly and thoughtfully. He sat with his hands clasped 
 together. Over his face, marlied with lines of consecration 
 and service and the love of men, a shadow crept, a shadow 
 not caused by the firelight. Again he lifted his eyes 
 towards liis old friend. 
 
 "Calvin, we have always understood each other. Ever 
 since our paths led us in different ways in church life, we 
 have walked together in Christian fellow^ship." 
 
 "It is true," replied Dr. Bruce with an emotion he made 
 no attempt to conceal or subdue. "Thank God for it. I 
 prize your fellowship more than any man's. I have alw^ays 
 knoW'U what it meant, though it has always been more 
 than I deserve." 
 
 The Bishop looked affectionately at his friend. But the 
 shadow still rested on his face. After a pause he spoke 
 again. 
 
 "The new^ discipleship means a crisis for you in j^our 
 work. If you keep this pledge to do all things as Jesus 
 Avould do— as I know you will— it requires no prophet to 
 predict some remarkable changes in your parish." The 
 Bishop looked wistfully at Bruce and then continued. "In 
 fact, I do not see how a perfect upheaval of Christianity, 
 as we now know it, can be prevented if the ministry and 
 churches generally take the Raymond pledge and live it 
 out." He paused as if he w^ere waiting for his friend to 
 say something, to ask some question. But Bruce did not 
 know of the fire that was burning in the Bishop's heart 
 over the very question that Maxwell and himself had 
 fought out. 
 
 "Now, in my church, for instance," continued the 
 Bishop, "it would be rather a difficult matter, I fear, to find 
 very many people w^ho would take a pledge like that and 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 207 
 
 live up to it. Martyrdom is a lost art with us. Our Chris- 
 tianity loves its ease and comfort too well to take up any- 
 thing so rough and heavy as a cross. And yet what does 
 following Jesus mean? What is it to walk in His steps?" 
 
 The Bishop was soliloquizing now, and it is doubtful if 
 he thought for the moment of his friend's presence. For 
 the first time there flashed into Dr. Bruce's mind a sus- 
 picion of the truth. What if the Bishop should throw the 
 weight of his great influence on the side of the Raymond 
 movement? He had the folloAving of the most aristocratic, 
 wealthy, fashionable people, not only in Chicago but in sev- 
 eral large cities. What if the Bishop should join this new 
 discipleshipl 
 
 The thought was about to be followed by the word. Dr. 
 Bruce had reached out his hand and, with the familiarity 
 of life-long friendship, had placed it on the Bishop's shoul- 
 der and was about to aslv him a very important question, 
 when they were both startled by the violent ringing of 
 the bell. Mrs. Bruce had gone to the door and was talk- 
 ing with some one in the hall. There was a loud exclama- 
 tion and then, as the Bishop rose and Dr. Bruce was step- 
 ping toward the curtain that hung before the entrance to 
 the parlor, Mrs. Bruce pushed it aside. Her face was 
 white and she was trembling. 
 
 "O Calvin! Such terrible news! Mr. Sterling— Oh. I 
 cannot tell it: What a fearful blow to those two girls!" 
 
 "What is it!" Dr. Bruce advanced with the Bishop into 
 the hall and confronted the messenger, a servant from the 
 Sterlings. The man was without his hat and had evidently 
 run over with the news, as the Doctor lived nearest of any 
 friends of the family. 
 
308 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "Mr. sterling shot himself, sir, a few minutes ago! He 
 killed himself in his bedroom I Mrs. Sterling—" 
 
 "I will go right over. Edward," Dr. Bruce turned to 
 the Bishop, "will you go with me? The Sterlings are old 
 friends of yours." 
 
 The Bishop was very pale, but calm as always. He 
 looked his friend in the face and answered, "Aye, Calvin, 
 I will go with you, not only to this house of death, but also 
 the whole way of human sin and sorrow, please God." 
 
 And even in that moment of horror at the unexpected 
 news, Calvin Bruce understood what the Bishop had prom- 
 ised to do. 
 
CHAPTER X- 
 
 "These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he 
 goeth." 
 
 When Dr. Bruce and the Bishop entered the Sterling 
 mansion everything in the usually well-appointed house- 
 hold was in the greatest confusion and terror. The great 
 rooms down stairs were empty, but overhead were hurried 
 footsteps and confused noises. One of the servants ran 
 down the grand staircase with a look of horror on her face 
 just as the Bishop and Dr. Bruce were starting to go up. 
 
 "Miss Felicia is with Mrs. Sterling," the servant stam- 
 mered in answer to a question, and then burst into a hys- 
 terical cry and ran through the drawing-room and out of 
 doors. 
 
 At the top of the staircase the two men were met by 
 Felicia. 
 
 She walked up to Dr. Bruce at once and put both hands 
 in his. The Bishop laid his hand on her head and the three 
 stood there a moment in perfect silence. 
 
 The Bishop had known Felicia since she was a child. 
 He was the first to break silence. 
 
 "The God of all mercy be with you, Felicia, in this dark 
 hour. Your mother—" 
 
 The Bishop hesitated. Out of the buried past he had, 
 during his hurried passage from his friend's house to this 
 house of death, irresistibly drawn the one tender romance 
 
210 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 of his young manhood. Not even Bruce knew that. But 
 there had been a time when the Bishop had offered the 
 incense of a singularly undivided affection upon the altar 
 of his youth to the beautiful Camilla Rolfe, and she had 
 chosen between him and the millionaire. The Bishop car- 
 ried no bitterness with his memory. But it was still a 
 memory. 
 
 For answer to the Bishop's unfinished query, Felicia 
 turned and went back into her mother's room. She had 
 not said a word yet. But both men were struck with her 
 wonderful calm. She returned to the hall door and beck- 
 oned to them, and the two ministers, with a feeling that 
 they were about to behold something very unusual, entered. 
 
 Bose lay with her arms outstretched on the bed. Clara 
 the nurse, sat with her head covered, sobbing in spasms 
 of terror. And Mrs. Sterling, with "the light that never 
 was on sea or land" luminous on her face, lay there so still 
 that even the Bishop was deceived at first. Then as the 
 great truth broke upon him and Dr. Bruce he staggered, 
 and the sharp agony of the old wound shot through him. 
 It passed and left him standing there in that chamber of 
 death with the eternal calmness and strength that the chil- 
 dren of God have a right to possess. And right well he 
 used that calmness and strength in the days that followed. 
 
 The next moment the house below was in a tumult. 
 Almost at the same time the doctor, who had been sent 
 for at once but lived some distance away, came in, together 
 with police oflScers who had been summoned by the fright- 
 ened servants. With them were four or five newspaper 
 correspondents and several neighbors. Dr. Bruce and the 
 Bishop met this miscellaneous crowd at the head of the 
 stairs and succeeded In excluding all except tho?!e whose 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 211 
 
 presence was neeessaiT. With these the two friends learned 
 all the facts ever known about "the Sterling tragedy", as 
 the papers in their sensational accounts next day called it. 
 
 Mr. Sterling had gone into his room that evening about 
 nine o'clock, and that was the last seen of him until, in 
 half an hour, a shot was heard, and a servant who was in 
 the hall ran into the room and found the owner of the 
 house dead on the floor, killed by his own hand. Felicia at 
 the time was sitting by her mother. Rose was reading in 
 the library. She ran up stairs, saw her father as he was 
 being lifted upon the couch by the servants, and then ran 
 screaming into her mother's room, where she flung herself 
 down on the foot of the bed in a swoon. Mrs. Sterling had 
 at first fainted at the shock, then rallied with wonderful 
 swiftness and sent a messenger to call Dr. Bruce. She had 
 then insisted on seeing her husband. In spite of Felicia, 
 she had compelled Clara and the housemaid, terrified and 
 trembling, to support her while she crossed the hall and 
 entered the room where her husband lay. She had looked 
 upon him with a tearless face, had gone back into her own 
 room, was laid on the bed, and as Dr. Bruce and the Bishop 
 entered the house she, with a prayer of forgiveness for her- 
 self and her husband on her quivering lips, had died, with 
 Felicia bending over her and Rose still lying senseless at 
 her feet. 
 
 So great and swift had been the entrance of grim Death 
 into that palace of luxury that Sunday night. But the full 
 cause of his coming was not known until the facts in 
 regard to Mr. Sterling's business affairs were finally dis- 
 closed. 
 
 Then it was learned that for some time he had been 
 facing financial ruin owing to certain speculations that had 
 
31'3 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 in a month's time swept his supposed wealth into complete 
 destruction. With the cunning and desperation of a man 
 who battles for his very life, Avhen he saw his money, 
 which was all the life he ever valued, slipping from him, 
 he had put off the evil day to the last moment. Sunday 
 afternoon, however, he had received nev>-s that proved to 
 him beyond a doubt the fact of his utter ruin. The very 
 house that he called his, the chairs in which he sat, his 
 carriage, his dishes from which he ate, had all been bought 
 by money for which he himself had never really done an 
 honest stroke of pure labor. 
 
 • It had all rested on a tissue of deceit and speculation 
 that had no foundation in real values. He knew the fact 
 better than any one else, but he had hoped, with the hope 
 that such men always have, that the same methods that 
 brought him the money would also prevent its loss. He 
 had been deceived in this as many others have been. As 
 soon as the truth that he was practically a beggar had 
 dawned upon him, he saw" no escape from suicide. It was 
 the irresistible result of such a life as he had lived. He 
 had made money his god. As soon as that god had gone 
 out of his little world there was nothing more to worship, 
 and when a man's object of worship is gone he has no more 
 to live for. Thus died the great millionaire, Charles R. 
 Sterling. And verily he died as the fool dieth, for what is 
 the gain or the loss of money compared with the unsearch- 
 able riches of eternal life which are beyond the reach of 
 speculation, loss or change. 
 
 Mrs. Sterling's death was the result of shock. She had 
 not been taken into her husband's confidence for years, but 
 she knew that the source of his wealth was precarious. 
 Her life for several years had been a death in life. The 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 213 
 
 Rolfes always gave the impressioD that they could endure 
 more disaster unmoved than any one else. Mrs. Sterling 
 illustrated the old family tradition when she was carried 
 into the room where her husband lay. But the feeble tene- 
 ment could not hold the spirit and it gave up the ghost, 
 torn and weakened by long years of suffering and disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 The effect of this triple blow, the death of father and 
 mother and the loss of property was instantly apparent in 
 the sisters. The horror of events stupified Kose for weelis. 
 She lay unmoved by sympathy or any effort to rally. She 
 did not seem yet to realize that the money which had been 
 so large a part of her very existence was gone. Even when 
 she was told that she and Felicia must leave the house 
 and be dependent upon relatives and friends, she did not 
 seem to understand what it meant. 
 
 Felicia, however, was fully conscious of the facts. She 
 knew just what had happened and why. She was talking 
 over her future plans with her cousin, Rachel, a few days 
 after the funerals. Mrs. Winslow and Rachel had left 
 Raymond and come to Chicago at once as soon as the terri- 
 ble news had reached them, and with other friends of the 
 family they were planning for the future of Rose and 
 Felicia, 
 
 "Felicia, you and Rose must come to Raymond with 
 us. That is settled. Mother will not hear to any other 
 plan at present," Rachel had said, while her beautiful face 
 glowed with love for her cousin, a love that had deepened 
 day by day and was intensified by the knowledge that they 
 both belonged to the new discipleship. 
 
 "T'nless I could find something to do here," answered 
 
214 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 P'elieia. She looked Avistfully at Rachel, and Rachel said 
 gently, 
 
 •'What could you do, dear?" 
 
 '•Nothing. I was never taught to do anything except 
 a little music, and I do not know enough about it 
 to teach it or earn my living at it. I have learned to cook 
 a little," Felicia answered with a slight smile. 
 
 "Then you can cook for us. Mother is always having 
 trouble with her kitchen," said Rachel, understanding well 
 enough that Felicia was thinking of the fact that she was 
 now dependent for her verj'' food and shelter upon the 
 kindness of family friends. 
 
 It is true the girls received a little something out of the 
 wreck of their father's fortune, but with a speculator's 
 mad folly he had managed to involve both his wife's and 
 his children's portions in the common ruin. 
 
 "Can I? Can I?" Felicia replied to Rachel's proposition 
 as if it were to be considered seriously. "I am ready to do 
 anything honorable to make my living and that of Rose. 
 Poor Rose! She will never be able to get over the shock of 
 our trouble." 
 
 "We will arrange the details when we get to Ray- 
 mond," Rachel said, smiling through her tears at Felicia's 
 eager willingness to care for herself. 
 
 So in a few weeks Rose and Felicia found themselves 
 a part of the Winslow family in Raymond. It was a bit- 
 ter experience for Rose, but there was nothing else for her 
 to do and she accepted .the inevitable, brooding over the 
 great change in her life and in many ways adding to the 
 burden of Felicia and her cousin Rachel. 
 
 Felicia at once found herself in an atmosphere of dis- 
 eipleship that was like heaven to her in its revelation of 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 315 
 
 companiouship. It is true that Mrs. Wiuslow was not iu 
 sympathy with the course that Rachel was taldng, but the 
 remarkable events since the pledge had been taken were too 
 powerful in their results not to impress even such a woman 
 as Mrs. Winslow. With Rachel, Felicia found a perfect 
 fellowship. She at once found a part to take in the new 
 work at the Rectangle. In the spirit of her new life she 
 insisted upon helping- in the liousework at her aunfs, and 
 in a short time demonstrated her ability as a cook so 
 clearly that Virginia suggested that she take charge of the 
 cooking class at the Rectangle. 
 
 Felicia entered upon this work with the keenest pleas- 
 ure. For the first time in her life, she had the delight of 
 doing something of value for the happiness of others. Her 
 resolve to do everything after asking, "What would Jesus 
 do?" touched her deepest nature. She began to develop and 
 strengthen wonderfully. Even Mrs. Winslow was obliged 
 to acknowledge the great usefulness and beauty of Felicia's 
 character. The aunt looked with astonishment upon her 
 niece, this city-bred girl, reared In the greatest luxury, the 
 daughter of a millionaire, now walking around in her 
 kitchen, her arms covered with flour and occasionally a 
 streak of it on her nose (for Felicia at first had a habit of 
 rubbing her nose forgetfully when she vras trying to remem- 
 ber some recipe), mixing various dishes with the greatest 
 interest in their results, washing up pans and kettles, and 
 doing the ordinary work of a servant in the Winslow 
 Isitchen and at the rooms of the Rectangle settlement. At 
 first Mrs. Winslow remonstrated. 
 
 "Felicia, it is not your place to be out here doing this 
 common work. I cannot allow it." 
 
 "Why, Aunt? Don't you like the muffins I made this 
 
216 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 morning?" Felicia would ask meekly but with a hidden 
 smile, knowing her aunt's weakness for that kind of muf- 
 fin. 
 
 "They were beautiful, Felicia. But it does not seem 
 right for you to be doing such Avork for us." 
 
 "Why not? What else can I do?" 
 
 Her aunt locked at her thoughtfully, noting her remark- 
 able beauty of face and expression. 
 
 "You do not always intend to do this kind of work, 
 Felicia?" 
 
 "Maybe I shall. I have had a dream of opening an 
 ideal cook shop in Chicago or some large citj^ and going 
 around to the poor families in some slum district like the 
 Rectangle, teaching the mothers how to prepare food prop- 
 erly. I remember hearing Dr. Bruce say once that he 
 believed one of the great miseries of comparative poverty 
 consisted in poor food. He even went so far as to say that 
 he thought some kinds of crime could be traced to soggy 
 biscuits and tough beefsteak. I'm sure I would be able to 
 make a living for Rose and myself and at the same time 
 help others." 
 
 Felicia brooded over this dream until it became a real- 
 ity. Meanwhile she grew into the affections of the Ray- 
 mond people and the Rectangle folks, among whom she 
 w^as known as the Angel Cook. Underneath the structure 
 of the beautiful character she was growing, always rested 
 her promise made in Nazareth Avenue Church. 
 
 "What w^ould Jesus do?" She prayed and hoped and 
 worked and planned her life by the answer to that ques- 
 tion. 
 
 It was the inspiration of her conduct and the answer 
 lo all her ambition. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 317 
 
 Three months had gone by since the Sunday morning 
 when Dr. Bruce came into his pulpit with the message of 
 the new discipleship. Never before had the Rev. Calvin 
 Bruce realized how deep the feelings of his members 
 flowed. He humbly confessed that the appeal he had made 
 met with an unexpected response from men and women 
 who, like Felicia, were hungry for something in their lives 
 that the' conventional type of church membership and fel- 
 lowship had failed to give them. 
 
 But Dr. Bruce was not yet satisfied for himself. We 
 cannot tell what his feeling was or what led to the move- 
 ment he finally made, to the great astonishment of all who 
 knew him, better than by relating a conversation between 
 him and the Bishop, at this time in the history of 
 the pledge in Nazareth Avenue Church. The two friends 
 were, as before, in Dr. Bruce' s house, seated in his study. 
 
 "You know what I have come in this evening for?" the 
 Bishop was saying, after the friends had been talking some 
 time about the results of the pledge with Nazareth Avenue 
 people. 
 
 Dr. Bruce looked over at the Bishop and shook his 
 head. 
 
 "I have come to confess," went on the Bishop, "that 
 I have not yet kept my promise to walk in His steps in the 
 way that I believe I shall be obliged to if I satisfy my 
 thought of what it means to walk in His steps." 
 
 Dr. Bruce had risen and was pacing his study. The 
 Bishop remained in the deep, easy chair, with his hands 
 clasped, but his eye burned with the glow that always 
 belonged to him before he made some great resolve. 
 
 "Edward," Dr. Bruce spoke abruptly. "I have not yet 
 been able to satisfy myself, either, in obeying my promise. 
 
318 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 But I have at last decided on my course. In order to fol- 
 low it, I shall be obliged to resign from Nazareth Avenue 
 Church." 
 
 "I l^new you would," replied the Bishop quietly. "And 
 I came in this evening to say that I shall be obliged to do 
 the same with my charge." 
 
 Dr. Bruce turned and walked up to his friend. They 
 were both laboring under repressed excitement. 
 
 "Is it necessary in your case?" asked Bruce. 
 
 "Yes. Let me state my reasons. Probably they are 
 the same as yours. In fact, I am sure they are."The Bishop 
 paused a moment, then went on with increasing feeling. 
 
 "Calvin, you know how many years I have been doing 
 the work of my position, and you know something of the 
 responsibility and the care of it. I do not mean to say that 
 my life has been free from burden bearing or sorrow. But 
 I have certainly led what the poor and desperate of this 
 sinful city would call a very comfortable, yes, a very luxu- 
 rious life. I have a beautiful house to live in, the most 
 expensive food, clothing and physical pleasures. I have 
 been able to go abroad at least a dozen times, and have 
 enjoyed for years the beautiful companionship of art and 
 letters and music and all the rest of the very best. I have 
 never known what it meant to be without money or its 
 equivalent. And I have been unable to silence the ques- 
 tion of late, 'What have I suffered for the sake of Christ?' 
 Paul was told what great things he must suffer for the 
 sake of his Lord. Maxwell's position at Raymond is 
 well taken when he insists that to walk in the steps of 
 Christ means to suffer. Where has my suffering come in? 
 The petty trials and annoyances of my clerical life are not 
 worth mentioning as sorrows or suffering. Compared with 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 219 
 
 Paul or any of the Christian martyrs or early disciples, I 
 have lived a luxurious, sinful life, full of ease and pleasure. 
 I cannot endure this any longer. I have that within me 
 which, of late, rises in overwhelming condemnation of 
 such a following of Jesus. I have not been walking in His 
 steps. Under the present system of church and social life, 
 I see no escape from this condemnation, except to give the 
 rest of my life personally to the actual physical and soul 
 needs of the wretched people in the worst part of this 
 city." 
 
 The Bishop had risen now, and walked over to tlie 
 window. The street in front of the house was as light as 
 day and he looked out at the crowds passing, then turned 
 and with a passionate utterance that showed how deep- the 
 volcanic fire in him burned, he exclaimed, "Calvin, this is a 
 terrible city in which we live. Its misery, its sin, its selfish- 
 ness, appall my heart. And I have struggled for years with 
 the sickening dread of the time when I should be forced to 
 leave the pleasant luxury of my official position to put my 
 life into contact with the modern paganism of this century. 
 The awful condition of the girls in the great department 
 stores, the brutal selfishness of the insolent society, fashion 
 and wealth that ignores all the sorrows of the city, the 
 fearful curse of the drink and gambling hell, the wail of the 
 unemployed, the hatred of the church by countless men who 
 see in the church only great piles of costly stone and uphol- 
 stered furniture and the minister as a luxurious idler, all the 
 vast tumult of this vast torrent of humanity with its false 
 and its true ideas, its exaggeration of evils in the church, 
 and its bitterness and shame that are the result of many 
 complex causes— all this as a total fact, in its contrast with 
 the easy, comfortable life I have li\ed, fills roe more and 
 
330 TN HIS STEPS. 
 
 more with a sense of mingled terror and self -accusation. 
 I have heard the words of Jesus many times lately, "Inas- 
 much as ye did it not unto one of these least, my brethren, 
 ye did it not to me.' And when have I personally visited 
 the prisoner or the desperate or the sinful, in any way that 
 has actually caused me suffering? Rather, I have followed 
 the conventional, soft habits of my position and have lived 
 in the society of the rich, refined, aristocratic members of 
 my congregations. Where has the suffering come in? What 
 have I suffered for Jesus' sake? Do you know, Calvin," 
 the Bishop turned abruptly towards his friend, "I have 
 been tempted of late to lash myself with a scourge. If I 
 had lived in Martin Luther's time, I would have bared my 
 back to a self-inflicted torture." 
 
 Dr. Bruce was very pale. Never had he seen the Bishop 
 or heard him when under the influence of such a passion. 
 There was a sudden silence in the room. The Bishop had 
 sat down again and bowed his head. Dr. Bruce spoke at 
 last. 
 
 "Edward, I do not need to say that you have expressed 
 my feelings also. I have been in a similar position for 
 years. My life has been one of comparative luxury. 
 I do not, of course, mean to say that I have not had trials 
 and discouragements and ^burdens in my church ministry. 
 But I cannot say that I have suffered any for Jesus. That 
 verse in Peter haunts me: 'Christ also suffered for you, 
 leaving you an example that ye should follow His steps.' 
 I have lived in luxury. I do not know what it means to 
 want. I also have had my leisure for travel and beautiful 
 companionship. I have been surrounded by soft, easy 
 comforts of civilization. The sin and misery of .this great 
 city have beat like waves against the stone walls of mv 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 221 
 
 church and of this house in which I live, and I have hardly 
 heeded them, the walls have been so thiclc. I have reached 
 a point where I cannot endure this any longer. I am not 
 condemning the church. I love her. I am not forsaking 
 the church. I believe in her mission and have no desire 
 to destroy. Least of all, in the step I am about to take, 
 do I desire to be charged with abandoning the Christian 
 fellowship. But I feel I must resign my place as pastor of 
 Nazareth Avenue Church, in order to satisfy myself that I 
 am walking as I ought to walk in His steps. In this action 
 T judge no other ministers and pass no criticism on others* 
 discipleship. But I feel as you do. Into a closer contact 
 with the sin and shame and degradation of this great city 
 I must come personally. And I know that to do that 1 
 must sever my immediate connection with Nazareth Ave- 
 nue Church. I do not see any other way for myself to suf- 
 fer for His sake as I feel that I ought to suffer." 
 
 Again that sudden silence fell over those two men. It 
 was no ordinary action they were deciding. They had both 
 reached the same conclusion by the same reasoning, and 
 they were too thoughtful, too well accustomed to the meas- 
 uring of conduct to underestimate the seriousness of their 
 position. 
 
 "What is your plan?" The Bishop at last spoke gently, 
 looking up with his smile that always beautified his face. 
 The Bishop's face grew in glory now every day. 
 
 "My plan," replied Dr. Bruce slowly, "is, in brief, the 
 putting of myself into the center of the greatest human 
 need I can find in this city and living there. My wife is 
 fully in accord with me. We have already decided to find 
 a residence in that part of the city where we can make our 
 personal lives count for the most." 
 
223 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 "Let me suggest a place." The Bishop was on fire now. 
 His fine face actually glowed with the enthusiasm of the 
 movement in which he and his friend were inevitably 
 embarked. He went on and unfolded a plan of such far- 
 reaching power and possibility that Dr. Bruce, capable and 
 experienced as he was, felt amazed at the vision of a 
 greater soul than his own. 
 
 They sat up late and were as eager and even glad as if 
 they were planning for a trip together to some rare land of 
 unexplored travel. Indeed, the Bishop said many times 
 afterwardSjthat the moment his decision was reached to 
 live the life of personal sacrifice he had chosen, he suddenly 
 felt an uplifting as if a great burden was talien from him. 
 He was exultant. So was Dr. Bruce from the same cause. 
 
 Their plan as it finally grew into a workable fact was 
 in reality nothing more than the renting of a large building 
 formerly used as a warehouse for a brewery, reconstructing 
 it and living in it themselves in the very heart of a territory 
 where the saloon ruled with power, where the tenement 
 was its filthiest, where vice and ignorance and shame and 
 poverty were congested into hideous forms. It was not 
 a new idea. It was an idea started by Jesus Christ when 
 He left His Father's house and forsook the riches that were 
 His in order to get nearer humanity and, by becoming a part 
 of its sin, helping to draw humanity apart from its sin. 
 The University Settlement idea is not modern. It is as old 
 as Bethlehem and Nazareth. And in this particular case it 
 was the nearest approach to anything that would satisfy 
 the hunger of these two men to suffer for Christ. There 
 had sprung up in them at the same time, a longing that 
 amounted to a passion, to get nearer the great physical 
 poverty and spiritual destitution of the mighty city that 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 223 
 
 throbbed around them. How could they do this except as 
 they became a part of it, as nearly as one man can become 
 a part of another's misery? Where was the suffering to 
 come in, unless there was an actual self-denial of some 
 sort? And what was to make that self-denial apparent to 
 themselves or any one else, unless it took this concrete, 
 actual, personal form of trying to share the deepest suffer- 
 ing and sin of the city? 
 
 So they reasoned for themselves, not judging others. 
 They were simply keeping their own pledge to do as Jesus 
 would do, as they honestly judged He would do. That was 
 what they had promised. How could they quarrel with the 
 result, if they were irresistibly compelled to do what they 
 were planning to do? 
 
 The Bishop had money of his own. Every one in Chi- 
 cago knew that the Bishop had a handsome fortune. Dr. 
 Bruce had acquired and saved, by literary work carried on 
 in connection with his parish duties, more than a comforta- 
 ble competence. This money, a large part of it, the two 
 friends agreed to put at once into the work, most of it into 
 the furnishing of a Settlement House. 
 
 Meanwhile Nazareth Avenue Church was experiencing 
 something never known before in all its history. The simple 
 appeal on the part of its pastor to his members, to do as 
 Jesus would do, had created a sensation that still contin- 
 ued. The result of that appeal was very much the same 
 as in Henry Maxwell's church in Raymond, only Nazareth 
 Avenue Church was far more aristocratic, wealthy and con- 
 ventional. Nevertheless, when one Sunday morning in 
 early summer Dr. Bruce came into his pulpit and announced 
 his resignation, the sensation deepened all over the city, 
 although Dr. Bruce had advised with his board of trustees 
 
224 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 and the movement he intended was not a matter of surprise 
 to them. 
 
 But when it became publicly known that the Bishop 
 also had announced his retirement from the position he 
 had held so long, in order to go and live himself in the cen- 
 ter of the worst part of Chicago, the public astonishment 
 reached its height. 
 
 "But why—" the Bishop replied to one valued friend 
 who had almost with tears tried to dissuade him from his 
 purpose, "Why should what Dr. Bruce and I propose to do, 
 seem so remarkable a thing, as if it were unheard-of that 
 a Doctor of Divinity and a Bishop should want to save 
 souls in this particular manner? If we were to resign our 
 charges for the purpose of going to Bombay or Hong Kong 
 or any place in Africa, the churches and the people would 
 exclaim at the heroism of missions. Why should it seem 
 so great a thing, if we have been led to give our lives to 
 help rescue the heathen and the lost of our own city, in the 
 way we are going to try? Is it then such a tremendous 
 event that two Christian ministers should be not only 
 willing but eager to live close to the misery of the world, 
 in order to know it and realize it? Is it such a rare thing 
 that love of humanity should find this particular form of 
 expression in the rescue of souls?" 
 
 However the Bishop may have satisfied himself that 
 there ought to be nothing so remarkable about it all, the 
 public continued to talk and the churches to record their 
 astonishment that two such men, so prominent in the min- 
 istry, should leave their comfortable homes, voluntarily 
 resign their pleasant social positions and enter upon a life 
 of hardship, of self-denial and actual suffering. Christian 
 America! Is it a reproach upon the form of our disciple- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 225 
 
 ship that the exhibition of actual suffering for Jesus on the 
 part of those who walk in His steps always provokes aston- 
 ishment, as at the sight of something very unusual? 
 
 Nazareth Avenue Church parted from its pastor with 
 regret for the most part, although the regret Was modified 
 by some relief on the part of those who had refused to take 
 the pledge. Dr. Bruce carried with him the respect of men 
 who, entangled in business in such a way that obedience to 
 the pledge would have ruined them, still held in their 
 deeper, better natures a genuine admiration for courage 
 and consistency. They had known Dr. Bruce many years 
 as a kindly, safe man; but the thought of him in the light 
 of sacrifice of this sort was not familiar to them. .As fast 
 as they understood it, they gave their pastor the credit of 
 being absolutely true to his recent convictions as to what 
 following Jesus meant. Nazareth Avenue Church has 
 never lost the impulse of that movement started by Dr. 
 Bruce. Those who went with him in making the promise 
 breathed into the church the very breath of divine life and 
 are continuing that life-giving work at the present time. 
 
 It was fall again, and the city faced another hard win- 
 ter. The Bishop one afternoon came out of the Settle- 
 ment and walked around the block, intending to go on a 
 visit to one of his new friends in the district; he had 
 walked about four blocks, when he was attracted by a shop 
 that looked different from the others. The neighborhood 
 was still quite new to the Bishop, and every day he dis- 
 covered some strange spot or stumbled upon some unex- 
 pected humanity. 
 
 The place that attracted his notice was a small house 
 close by a Chinese laundry. There were two windows in 
 the front, very clean, and that was remarkable to begin 
 
226 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 with. Then inside the window was a tempting display of 
 .eookery, with prices attached to the various articles, that 
 made the Bishop wonder somewhat, for he was familiar 
 by this time with many facts in the life of the people 
 once unknown to him. 
 
 As he stood looking at the windows, the door between 
 them opened and Felicia Sterling came out. 
 
 "Felicia !"said the Bishop. "When did you move into 
 my parish without my knowledge?" 
 
 "How did you find me so soon?" asked B^elicia. 
 
 "Why, don't you know? These are the only clean win- 
 dows in the block." 
 
 "I believe they are," replied Felicia with a laugh that 
 did the Bishop good to hear. 
 
 "But why have you dared to come to Chicago without 
 telling me, and how have you entered my diocese without 
 my knowledge?" asked the Bishop. And Felicia looked so 
 like that beautiful, clean, educated, refined w^orld he once 
 knew, that he might be pardoned for seeing in her some- 
 thing of the old Paradise. xUthough, to speak truth for 
 the Bishop, he had no desire to go back to it again. 
 
 "Well, dear Bishop," said Felicia who had always 
 called him so whenever they had met, "I knew how over- 
 whelmed you were with your work. I did not want to 
 burden you with my plans. And besides, I am going to 
 offer you my services. Indeed, I was just on my way to 
 see you and ask your advice. I am settled here for the pres- 
 ent with Mrs. Bascom, a saleswoman who rents our three 
 rooms, and with one of Rachel's music pupils, who is being 
 helped to a course in violin by Virginia Page. She is from 
 the people," continued Felicia, using the words, "from the 
 people," so gravely and unconsciously that the Bishoi) 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 337 
 
 smiled, "and I am keeping liouse for lier and, at the same 
 time, beginning an experiment in pure food for the masses. 
 I am an expert and I have a plan I want you to admire and 
 develop. Will j^ou, dear Bishop?" 
 
 "Indeed, I will," replied the Bishop. The sight of Fe- 
 licia and her remarkable vitalitj^ enthusiasm and evident 
 purpose almost bewildered him. 
 
 "Martha can help at the Settlement with her violin 
 and I will help with my messes. You see, I thought I would 
 get settled first and work out something and then come 
 with some real thing to offer. I'm able to earn my own liv- 
 ing now." 
 
 "You are?" The Bishop said it a little incredulously. 
 "How? Making those things?" 
 
 "'Those things'!" said Felicia with a show of indigna- 
 tion. "I would have you know sir, that 'those things' are 
 the best cooked, purest food-products in this whole city." 
 
 "I don't doubt it," said the Bishop hastily, while his 
 eyes twinkled. "Still, 'the proof of the pudding,'— you know 
 the rest." 
 
 "Come in and try some," exclaimed Felicia. "You poor 
 Bishop! You look as if you hadn't had a good meal for a 
 month." 
 
 She insisted on the Bishop's entering the little front 
 room where Martha, a wide-awake girl with short curly 
 hair and an unmistakable air of music about her, was 
 busy with practice. 
 
 "Go right on, Martha. This is the Bishop. You have 
 heard me speak of him so often. Sit down there and let 
 me give you a taste of the flesh pots of Egypt, for I believe 
 you have been actually fasting." 
 
 So Felicia and the Bishop had an improvised lunch, and 
 
228 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the Bishop, who, to tell the truth, had not taken time for 
 weeks to enjoy his meals, feasted on the delight of his 
 unexpected discovery and was able to express his astonish- 
 ment and gratification at the quality of the cookery. 
 
 "I thought you would, at least, say it was as good as 
 the meal* you used to get at the Auditorium, at the big 
 banquets," said Felicia slyly. 
 
 " 'As good as!' The Auditorium banquets were simply 
 husks, compared to this one, Felicia. But you must come 
 to the Settlement. I want you to see what we are doing. 
 And I am simply astonished to find you here, earning your 
 living this way. I begin to see what your plan is. You can 
 be of infinite help to us. You don't really mean that you will 
 live here and help these people to know the value of good 
 food?" 
 
 "Indeed, I do," Felicia answered gravely. "That is my 
 gospel. Shall I not follow it?" 
 
 "Aye! Aye! You're right. Bless God for sense like 
 yours. When I left the world," (the Bishop smiled at the 
 phrase), "they were talking a good deal about the 'new 
 woman.' If you are one of them, I am a convert right now 
 and here." 
 
 Flattery still! Is there no escape from it, even in 
 the slums of Chicago?" Felicia laughed again. And the 
 Bishop's heart, heavy though it had grown during several 
 mouths of vast sin-bearing, rejoiced to hear it . It sounded 
 good. It was good. It belonged to God. 
 
 Felicia wanted to visit the Settlement and went back 
 with the Bishop. She was amazed at the results of what 
 considerable money and a good deal of consecrated brains 
 had done. As they walked through the building they 
 talked incessantly. Felicia Avas tlie incarnation of vital 
 
''WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 229 
 
 enthusiasm. Even the Bishop wondered at the exhibition 
 of it, as it bubbled up and sparliled over. 
 
 They went down into the basement and the Bishop 
 pushed open the door, from behind ^hieh came the sound 
 of a carpenter's plane. It was a small but well-equipped 
 carpenter's shop. A young man with a paper cap on 
 his head and clad in blouse and overalls was whistling, 
 and driving the plane as he whistled. He loolvod up as the 
 Bishop and Felicia entered and took off his cap. As he did 
 so, his little finger carried a small, curling shaving up to his 
 Iiair, and it caught there. 
 
 "Miss Sterling, Mr. 'Stephen Clyde," said the Bishop. 
 "Clyde is one of our helpers here two afternoons in the 
 week." 
 
 Just then the Bishop was called up-stairs, and he 
 excused himself for a moment, leaving Felicia and the 
 young carpenter together. 
 
 "We have met before," said Felicia, looking at Clyde 
 frankly. 
 
 "Yes, 'back in the world,' as the Bishop says," replien 
 the young man, and his fingers trembled a little as they lay 
 on the board he had been planing. 
 
 "Yes." Felicia hesitated. "I am very glad to see you." 
 
 "Are you?" The flush of pleasure mounted to the 
 young carpenter's forehead. "You have had a great deal 
 of trouble since— then?" he said, and then he was afraid 
 he had wounded her, or called up painful memories. But 
 Felicia had lived over all that. 
 
 "Yes, and you also. How is it you are working here?" 
 
 "It is a long story, Miss Sterling. My father lost his 
 money and I was obliged to go to work. A very good thing 
 for me. The Bishop snys I ought to be grateful. I am. 
 
230 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 1 am very happy now. I learned the trade hoping some- 
 time to be of use. I am night clerk at one of the hotels. 
 That Sunday morning vi'hen you took the pledge at ^Naza- 
 reth Avenue Church, I took it with the others." 
 
 "Did you?" said Felicia slowly. "I am glad." 
 
 .lust then the Bishop came back, and very soon he and 
 Felicia went away, leaving the young carpenter at his 
 work. Some one noticed that he whistled louder than ever 
 as he planed. 
 
 "Felicia," said the Bishop, "Did j^ou know Stephen 
 Clyde before?" 
 
 "Yes, 'back in the world,' dear Bishop; he was one of 
 my acquaintances in Nazareth Avenue Church." 
 
 "Ah!" said the Bishop. 
 
 "We were very good friends," added Felicia. 
 
 "But nothing more?" the Bishop ventured to ask. 
 
 Felicia's face glowed for an instant. Then she looked 
 the Bishop in the eyes frankly and answered, 
 
 "Truly and truly, nothing more." 
 
 "It would be just the way of the world for those two 
 people to come to like each other, though," thought the 
 Bishop to himself, and somehow the thought made him 
 grave. It was almost like the old pang over Camilla. But 
 it passed, leaving him afterwards, when Felicia had gone 
 back, with tears in his eyes and a feeling that was almost 
 hope that Felicia and Stephen Avould like each other. 
 "After all," said the Bishop, like the sensible good man 
 that he was, "is not romance a part of humanity? Love 
 is older than I am and wiser." 
 
 The week following, the Bishop had an experience that 
 belongs to this part of the Settlement's history. 
 
 He was coming back to the Settlement very late from 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 281 
 
 some gathering of the striking tailors and was walking 
 along with his hands behind him, when two men jumped 
 out from behind an old fence that shut off an abandoned 
 factory from the street, and faced him. One of the men 
 thrust a pistol into the Bishop's face and the other threat- 
 ened him with a ragged stake that had evidently been torn 
 from the fence. 
 
 "Hold up your hands, and be quick about it!" said the 
 man with the pistol. 
 
 The place was solitary and the Bishop had no thought of 
 resistance. He did as he was commanded, and the man 
 with the stake began to go through his pockets. The Bishop 
 was calm. His nerves did not quiver. As he stood there 
 with his arms uplifted, an ignorant spectator might have 
 thought that he was praying for the souls of these two 
 men. And he was. And his prayer was singularly 
 answered that very night. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 "Kighteousness shall go before Him, and shall set us in the 
 
 way of His Steps." 
 
 The Bishop was not in the habit of carrying much 
 mouej' with him and the man with the stake, who was 
 searching him, uttered an oath at the small amount of 
 change he found. As he uttered it, the man with the pistol 
 savagely said, "Jerk out his watch! We might as well get 
 all we can out of the job!" 
 
 The man with the stake was on the point of laying hold 
 of the chain when there was the sound of footsteps coming 
 towards them. 
 
 "Get behind the fence! We haven't half searched him 
 yet. Mind you keep shut now, if you don't want—" 
 
 The man with the pistol made a significant gesture with 
 it and his companion pulled and pushed the Bishop down 
 the alley and through a ragged broken opening in the 
 fence. The three stood still there in the shadow until the 
 footsteps passed. 
 
 "Now, then, have you got the watch?" asked the man 
 with tlie pistol. 
 
 "No, the chain is caught somewhere!" And the other 
 man swore again. 
 
 "Break it then!" 
 
 "No, don't break it," the Bishop said, and it was the first 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 233 
 
 time he had spoken. "The chain is the gift of a very dear 
 friend. I should be sorry to have it brol^en." 
 
 At the sound of the Bishop's voice, the man with tlie 
 pistol started, as if he had been suddenly shot by his own 
 weapon. With a quiclv movement of his other hand he 
 turned the Bishop's head towards Avhat little light was 
 shining from the alley way, at the same time taking a 
 step nearer. Then to the evident amazement of his com- 
 panion he said roughly, 
 
 "Leave the watch alone I We've got the money. That's 
 enough 1" 
 
 "Enough! Fifty cents! You don't reckon—" 
 
 Before the man with the stake could say another word, 
 he was confronted with the muzzle of the pistol, turned 
 from the Bishop's head towards his own. 
 
 "Leave that watch be! And put back the money, too. 
 This is the Bishop we've held up! The Bishop, do you 
 hear?" 
 
 "And what of it! The President of the United States 
 wouldn't be too good to hold up, if—" 
 
 "I say, you put the money back, or in five minutes I'll 
 blow a hole through your head that'll let in more sense 
 than you have to spare now," said the other. 
 
 For a second the man with the stake seemed to hesitate 
 at this strange turn in events, as if measuring his com- 
 panion's intention. Then he hastily dropped the money 
 back into the Bishop's pock?t. 
 
 "You can take your hands down, sir." The man with 
 the weapon lowered it slowly, still keeping an eye on the 
 other man, and speaking with rough respect. The Bishop 
 slowly brought his arms to his side and looked earnostly at 
 the two men. In the dim light it was difficult to distin.irnish 
 
234 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 features. He was evidently free to go his way now, but he 
 stood there, making no movement. 
 
 "You can go on. You needn't stay any longer on our 
 account." The man who had acted as spoliesman turned 
 and sat down on a stone. The other man stood viciously 
 digging his stake into the ground. 
 
 "That's just what I'm staying for," replied the Bishop. 
 He sat down on a board that projected from the broken 
 fence. 
 
 "You must hke our company. It is hard sometimes for 
 people to tear themselves away from us," the man standing 
 up said, laughing coarsely. 
 
 "Shut up!" exclaimed the other. "We're on the road to 
 hell though, that's sure enough. We need better company 
 than ourselves and the devil." 
 
 "If you would only allow me to be of any help—" the 
 Bishop spoke gently, even lovingly. The man on the stone 
 stared at the Bishop through the darkness. After a moment 
 of silence, he spoke slowly, like one who had finally decided 
 upon a course he had at first rejected. 
 
 "Do j'ou remember ever seeing me before?" 
 
 "No," said the Bishop. "The light is not very good and 
 I have I'eally not had a good look at you." 
 
 "Do you know me now?" The man suddenly took oft' 
 his hat and getting up from the stone walked over to the 
 Bishop, until they were near enough to touch each other. 
 
 The man's hair was coal black, except one spot on the 
 top of his head about as large as the palm of the hand, 
 which was white. 
 
 The minute the Bishop saw that, he started. The mem- 
 ory of fifteen years ago began to stir in him. The man 
 helped him. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 285 
 
 "Don't you remember one day back in 'SI or '2, a man 
 came to your house and told a story about his wife and 
 child having been burned to death in a tenement fire in 
 New York?" 
 
 "Yes, I begin to recall now," murmured the Bishop. 
 The other man seemed to be interested. He ceased digging' 
 his stake in the ground and stood still, listening. 
 
 "Do you remember how you took me into your own 
 house that night and spent all next day trying to find me 
 a job? And how, when you succeeded in getting me a place 
 in a warehouse as foreman, I promised to quit drinking, 
 because you asked me to?" 
 
 "I remember it now," the Bishop rei)lit'd gently. I 
 hope you have kept your promise." 
 
 The man laughed savagely. Then he struck his hand 
 against the fence with such sudden passion tliat he drew 
 blood. 
 
 "Kept iti I was drunk inside of a week. I've been 
 drinking ever since. But I've never forgotten j'ou or your 
 prayer. Do you remember, the morning after I came to 
 your house, and after breakfast you had prayers and asked 
 me to come in and sit with the rest? That got mel But 
 my mother used to pray! I can see her now, kneeling down 
 by my bed when I was a lad. Father came in one night 
 drunk and kicked her, while she was kneeling there by 
 me. But I never forgot that prayer of yours that morning. 
 You prayed for me just as Mother used to, and you didn't 
 seem to take count of the fact that I was ragged and 
 tough looking and more than half drunk when I rung your 
 door-bell. My God! What a life I've lived! The saloon 
 has housed me and homed me and made hell on earth for 
 me! But that prayer stuck to me all the time. My promise 
 
286 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 not to drink was broken into a thousand pieces inside of 
 two Sundays, and I lost the job you found for me and landed 
 in a police station two days afterwards; but I never forgot 
 you or your prayer. I don't know what good it's done me, 
 but I never forgot it. And I won't do any harm to you nor 
 let any one else. So you're free to go. That's why." 
 
 The Bishop did not stir. Somewhere a church clock 
 struck one. The man had put on his hat and gone back to 
 his seat on the stone. The Bishop was thinking hard. 
 
 "How long is it since you had work?"' he asked, and 
 the man standing up answered for the other. 
 
 "More'n six months since either of us did anything to 
 tell of. Unless you count holding-up work. I call it pretty 
 Avearing kind of a job myself, especially when we put in a 
 night like this one and don't make nothin'." 
 
 "Suppose I found good jobs for both of you. Would you 
 quit this and begin all over?" 
 
 "What's the use?" the man on the stone spoke sullenly. 
 "I've reformed a hundred times. Every time I go down 
 deeper. The devil's begun to foreclose on me already. It's 
 too late!'* 
 
 "No!" said the Bishop. And never before the most 
 entranced audiences had he felt the desire for souls burn 
 up in him so strongly. All the time he sat there during 
 the remarkable scene, he prayed, "O Lord Jesus, give me 
 the souls of these two for Thee! I am hungry for them! 
 Give them to me!" 
 
 "No!" the Bishop repeated. "What does God want of 
 you two men? It doesn't so much matter what I want. 
 But He wants just what I do in this case. You two men 
 are of infinite value to Him." And then the Bishop's won- 
 derful memory came to his aid, in an appeal such as no one 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 2537 
 
 else on earth, among men, could make under such circiim 
 stances. He had remembered the man's name, in spite of 
 the wonderfully busy years that lay between his coming 
 to the house and the present moment. 
 
 "Burns," he said— and he yearned over the men with 
 an unspeakable longing for them both— "if you and 
 your friend here will go home with me to-night, I will find 
 you both places of honorable employment. I will believe 
 in you and trust you. You are both comparatively young 
 men. Why should God lose you? It is a great thing to 
 win the love of the great Father. It is a small' thing that 
 I should love you. But if you need to feel again that there 
 is love in the world, you will believe me when I say, my 
 brothers, that I love you and in the name of Him who was 
 crucified for our sins, I cannot bear to see you miss the 
 glory of the human life! Come! Be men! Make another 
 try for it, God helping you! No one but God and you and 
 myself need ever know anything of this to-night. He has 
 forgiven it. The minute you ask Him to, you will find that 
 true. Come! We'll fight it out together— you two and 1. 
 It's worth fighting for. Everlasting life is. It was the sin- 
 ner that Christ came to help. I'll do what I can for you. 
 O God! Give me the souls of these two men!" The Bishoii 
 broke into a prayer to God that was a continuation of his 
 appeal to the men. His pent-up feeling had no, other out- 
 let. Before he had prayed many moments. Burns was sit- 
 ting with his face buried in his hands, sobbing. Where 
 were his mother's prayers now? They were adding to the 
 power of the Bishop's. And the other man, harder, less 
 moved, without a previous knowledge of the Bishop, leaned 
 back against the fence, stolid at first. But as the prayer 
 went on, he was moved by it. What force of the Holy 
 
338 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 Spirit swept over his dulled, brutal, coarsened life, nothing 
 but the eternal records of the Recording Angel can ever 
 disclose. But that same supernatural Presence that smote 
 Paul on the road to Damascus and poured through Henry 
 Maxwell's church the morning he asked disciples to follow 
 in Jesus' steps, and had again broken irresistibly over the 
 Nazareth Avenue congregation, now manifested Himself 
 in this foul corner of the mighty city and over the natures 
 of these two sinful, sunken men apparently lost to all the 
 pleadings of conscience and memory of God. The Bishop's 
 prayer seemed to break open the crust that had for years 
 surrounded these two men and shut them oE from divine 
 communication. And they themselves were thoroughly 
 startled by the event. 
 
 The Bishop ceased, and at first he, himself, did not realize 
 what had happened. Neither did the two men. Burns still 
 sat with his head bowed between his hands. The man lean- 
 ing against the fence looked at the Bishop with a face in 
 which new emotions of awe, repentance, astonishment and 
 a broken gleam of joy struggled for expression. 
 
 The Bishop rose. 
 
 "Come, my brothers! God is good. You shall stay at 
 the Settlement to-night. And I will make good my promise 
 as to the work." 
 
 The two men followed the Bishop in silence. When 
 they reached the Settlement, it was after two o'clock. The 
 Bishop let them in and led them to a room. At the door, 
 he paused a moment. His tall, commanding figure stood 
 in the doorway, and his pale face, worn with his recent 
 experiences, was illuminated with the divine glory. 
 
 "God bless you, my brothers," he said, and leavinci 
 them his benediction, he went away. 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 239 
 
 In the morning, he almost dreaded to face the men. But 
 the impression of the night had not worn away. True to 
 his promise, the Bishop secured worli for them. The jani- 
 tor at the Settlement needed an assistant, owing to the 
 growth of the work there. So Burns was given the place. 
 The Bishop succeeded in getting his companion a position 
 as driver for a firm of warehouse dray manufacturers not 
 far from the Settlement. And the Holy Spirit struggling 
 in these tAvo darkened, sinful men began his marvelous 
 work of regeneration. 
 
 It was the afternoon following that morning when 
 Burns was installed in his new position as assistant janitor 
 that he was cleaning off the front steps of the Settlement, 
 when he paused a moment and stood up to look about him. 
 
 The first thing he noticed was a beer sign just across 
 the alley. He could almost touch it with his broom from 
 where he stood. Over the street, immediately opposite, 
 were two large saloons and a little farther down were 
 three more. 
 
 Suddenly the door of the nearest saloon opened and a 
 man came out. At the same time, two more went in. A 
 strong odor of beer floated up to Burns, as he stood on the 
 steps of the Settlement. 
 
 He clutched his broom handle tight and began to swec}) 
 egain. He had one foot on the porch and another on the 
 step just below. He took another step down, still sweep- 
 ing. The sweat stood out on his forehead, although the day 
 was frosty and the air chill. The saloon door opened again 
 and three or four men came out. A child went in with a 
 pail and came out a moment later with a quart of beer. 
 Tho oliild wont by on the sidewalk just below him and tlio 
 
240 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 odor of the beer came up to him. He took another step 
 down, still sweeping desperately. His fingers were purple 
 as he clutched the handle of the broom. 
 
 Then suddenly he pulled himself up one step and swept 
 over the spot he had just cleaned. He then dragged him- 
 self by a tremendous effort back to the floor of the porch 
 and went over into the corner of it farthest from the 
 saloon and began to sw^eep there. "O God!" he cried, "if 
 the Bishop would only come back!" The Bishop had gone 
 out with Dr. Bruce somewhere, and there was no one about 
 the Settlement that he knew. 
 
 He swept in the corner for two or three minutes. His 
 face was drawn with the agony of the conflict. Gradually 
 he edged out again towards the steps and began to go down 
 them. He looked towards the sidewalk and saw that he 
 had left one step unswept. The sight seemed to give him 
 a reasonable excuse for going down there to finish his sweep- 
 ing. He was on the sidewalk now, sweeping the last step, 
 with his face towards the Settlement and his back turned 
 partly on the saloon across the alley. He swept the step a 
 dozen times. The sweat rolled over his face and dropped 
 down at his feet. By degrees he felt that he was drawn 
 over towards that end of the step nearest the saloon. He 
 could smell the beer and rum now, as the fumes rose 
 around him. It was like the infernal sulphur of the lowest 
 hell and yet it dragged him, as by a giant's hand, nearer 
 its source. 
 
 He was down in the middle of the sidewalk now, still 
 sweeping. He cleared the space in front of the Settlement 
 and even went out into the gutter and swept that. He took 
 off his hat and rubbed his sleeve over his face. His lips 
 were pallid and his teeth chattered. He trembled all over 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 241 
 
 like a palsied man and staggered back and forth, as if he 
 were already drunk. His soul shook within him. 
 
 He had crossed over the little piece of stone flagging that 
 measured the width of the alley, and now he stood in front 
 of the saloon, looking at the sign and staring into the win- 
 dow at the pile of whisky and beer bottles arranged in a 
 great pyramid Inside. He moistened his lips with his tongue 
 and took a step forward, looking around him stealthily. 
 The door suddenly opened again and some one came out. 
 Again the hot, penetrating smell of the liquor swept out 
 into the cold air, and he took another step towards the 
 saloon door, which had shut behind the customer. As he 
 laid his fingers on the door handle, a tall figure came 
 around the corner. It was the Bishop. 
 
 He seized Burns by the arm and dragged him back upon 
 the sidewalk. The frenzied man, now mad for drink, 
 shrieked out a curse and struck at the Bishop savagely. It 
 is doubtful if he really knew at first who was snatching 
 him away from his ruin. The blow fell upon the Bishop's 
 face and cut a gash in his cheek. 
 
 He never uttered a word. But over his face a look of 
 majestic sorrow swept. He picked Burns up, as if he had 
 been a child, and actually carried him up the steps and into 
 the Settlement. He placed him down in the hall, and then 
 shut the door and put his back against it. 
 
 Burns fell on his knees, sobbing and praying. The 
 Bishop stood there, panting with his exertion, although 
 Burns was a slight-built man and had not been a great 
 weight for one of the Bishop's strength to carry. The 
 Bishop was moved with unspeakable pity. 
 
 "Pray, Burns! Pray as you never prayed before! Koth' 
 ing else will save you!" 
 
243 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "O God! Pray with me! Save me! O save me from 
 my hell!" cried Burns. And the Bishop kneeled by him 
 in the hall and praj'ed as only he could. 
 
 After that, they arose and Burns went into his room. 
 He came out of it that evening like a humble child. And 
 the Bishop went his way, older from that experience, bear- 
 ing in his body the marks of the Lord Jesus. Truly he 
 was learning something of what it means to walk in His 
 steps. 
 
 But the saloon! It stood there, and all the others lined 
 the street like so many traps set for Burns. How long 
 would the man be able to resist the smell of the damnable 
 stuff? The Bishop went out on the porch. The air of the 
 whole city seemed to be impregnated with the odor of beer. 
 "How long, O God, how long!" the Bishop prayed. 
 
 Dr. Bruce came out, and the two friends talked over 
 Burns and his temptation. 
 
 "Did you ever make any inquiries about the ownership 
 of this property adjoining us?" the Bishop asked. 
 
 "No. I haven't taken time for it. I will now, if you 
 think it would be worth while. But what can we do, 
 Edward, against the saloon in this great city? It is as 
 firmly established as the churches or politics. What power 
 can ever remove it?" 
 
 "God will do it in time, as He removed slavery," replied 
 the Bishop gravely. Meanwhile, I think we have a right 
 to know who controls this saloon so near the Settlement." 
 
 "I'll find out," said Dr. Bruce. 
 
 Two days later, he walked into the business office of 
 one of the members of Nazareth Avenue Church and asked 
 to see him a few momei^ts. He was cordially received by 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 24;) 
 
 his old parishioner, M'ho weleometl him into his room and 
 urged him to take all the time he wanted. 
 
 "I called to see j'on about that property next to the Set- 
 tlement Avhere the Bishop and myself now are, you know. 
 I am going to speak plainly, because life is too short and 
 too serious for us both to have any foolish hesitation about 
 this matter. Clayton, do you think it is right to rent that 
 propertj' for a saloon?" 
 
 Dr. Bruce's question was as direct and uncompromising 
 as he had meant it to be. The effect of it on his old parish- 
 ioner was instantaneous. 
 
 The hot blood mounted to the face of the man who sat 
 there, a picture of business activity in a great citj'. Then 
 he grew pale, dropped his head on his hands and, when he 
 raised it again, Dr. Bruce was amazed to see a tear roll over 
 his parishioner's face. 
 
 "Doctor, did you know that I took the pledge that morn- 
 ing with the others?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember." 
 
 "But you never knew how I have been tormented over 
 my failure to keep it in this instance. That saloon property 
 has been the temptation of the devil to me. It is the best 
 l)aying investment at present that I have. And yet it was 
 only a minute before you came in here that I was in an 
 agony of remorse to think how I was letting a little earthly 
 gain tempt me into denial of the very Christ I had prom- 
 ised to follow. T know well enough that He would never 
 rent property for such a purpose. Tliere is no need, dear 
 Doctor, for you to say a word more." Clayton held out his 
 hand and Doctor Bruce grasped it and shook it hard. After 
 a little he went away. But it was a long time afterwards 
 that he learned all the truth about the strngtrle that Clay- 
 
344 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 tou had known. It was only a part of the history that 
 belonged to Nazareth Avenue Church, since that memorable 
 morning when the Holy Spirit sanctioned the Christlike 
 Pledge. Not even the Bishop and Dr. Bruce, moving as 
 they now did in the very presence itself of divine impulses, 
 knew yet that over the whole sinful city the Spirit w^as 
 brooding with mighty eagerness, waiting for the disciples 
 to arise to the call of sacrifice and suffering, touching 
 hearts long dull and cold, making business men and money 
 makers uneasy in their absorption by the one great struggle 
 for more wealth, and stirring through the church as never, 
 in all the city's history, the church had been moved. The 
 Bishop and Dr. Bruce had already seen some wonderful 
 things in their brief life at the Settlement, They were to 
 see far greater soon, more astonishing revelations of the 
 divine power than they had supposed possible, in this age of 
 the world. 
 
 Within a month the saloon next the Settlement was 
 closed. The saloon-keeper's lease had expired, and Clay- 
 ton not only closed the property to the whisky men but 
 offered the use of the building to the Bishop and Dr. Bruce 
 for the Settlement work, which had now^ grown so large 
 that the building was not sufficient for the different indus- 
 tries that were planned. 
 
 One of the most important of these was the pure food 
 department suggested by Felicia. It was not a month after 
 Claj'ton turned the saloon property over to the Settlement 
 that Felicia found herself installed in the very room where 
 souls had been lost, as head of a department not only of 
 cooking but of a course of housekeeping for girls who 
 wished to go out to service. She was now a resident of the 
 Settlement, and found a home with Mrs. Bruce and the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 245 
 
 other young women from the city who were residents. 
 Martha, the violinist, remained at the place where the 
 Bishop had first discovered the two girls and came over 
 to the Settlement certain evenings to give lessons in music. 
 
 "Felicia, tell us your plan in full now," said the Bishop 
 one evening when, in a rare interval of rest from the great 
 pressure of work, he, with Dr. Bruce and Felicia, had come 
 in from the other building. 
 
 "Well, I have long thought of the hired girl problem," 
 said Felicia, with an air of wisdom that made Mrs. Bruce 
 smile, as she looked at the enthusiastic vital beauty of this 
 young girl, transformed into a new creature by the prom- 
 ise she had made to live the Christlike life. "And I have 
 reached certain conclusions in regard to it that j^ou men 
 are not yet able to fathpm, but Mrs. Bruce here will under- 
 stand me." 
 
 "We acknowledge our infancy. Felicia. Go on," said the 
 Bishop humbly. 
 
 "Then this is what I propose to do. The old saloon 
 building is large enough to arrange into a suite of rooms 
 thatM-ill represent an ordinary house. My plan is to have it so 
 arranged, and then teach housekeeping and cooking to girls 
 v.'ho will afterwards go out to service. The course will be 
 six months long. In that time I will teach plain cooking, 
 neatness, quickness, and a love of good work." 
 
 "Hold on, Felicia!" the Bishop interrupted. "This is 
 not an age of miracles I" 
 
 "Then I will make it one," replied Felicia. "I know this 
 seems like an impossibility, but I want to try it. I know a 
 score of girls, already, who will take the course and, if 
 we can once establish something like an esprit de corps 
 among the girls themselves, I am sure it will bo of great 
 
246 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 value to tiiem. 1 know already that the pure food is work- 
 ing a revolution in many families." 
 
 "Felicia, if you can accomplish half of what you pro- 
 pose to do, it will bless this whole community," said Mrs. 
 Bruce. "I don't see how you can do it, but I say, 'God 
 bless you,' as you try." 
 
 "So say we all!" cried Dr. Bruce and the Bishop; and 
 Felicia plunged into the working out of her plan with the 
 enthusiasm of her discipleship, which every day grew more 
 and more practical and serviceable. 
 
 It must be said here that Felicia's plan succeeded 
 beyond all expectations. She developed wonderful powers 
 of persuasion and taught her girls with astonishing rapidity 
 to do all sorts of housework. In time the graduates of 
 Felicia's cooking school came to be prized by housekeepers 
 all over the city. But that is anticipating our story. The 
 history of the Settlement has never yet been written. When 
 it is, Felicia's part will be found of very great importance. 
 
 The depth of winter found Chicago presenting, as every 
 great city of the world presents to the eyes of Christendom, 
 the marked contrast between riches and poverty, between 
 culture, refinement, luxury, ease, and ignorance, depravity, 
 destitution and the bitter struggle for bread. It was a hard 
 winter, but a gay winter. Never had there been such a 
 succession of parties, receptions, balls, dinners, banquets, 
 fetes, gayeties. Never had the opera and the theater been so 
 crowded with fashionable audiences. Never had there been 
 such a lavish display of jewels and fine dresses and equi- 
 pages. And on the other hand, never had the deep want and 
 suffering been so cruel, so sharp, so murderous. Never had 
 the winds blown so chilling over the lake and through the 
 thin shells of tenements in the neighborhood of the Set- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 247 
 
 tlemeut. Never had the pressure for food and fuel and 
 olotlies been so urgentlj^ thrust up against the people of the 
 city in their most importunate and ghastly form. Night 
 after night, the Bishop and Dr. Bruce ^Yith their helpers 
 went out and helped save men and women and children 
 from the torture of physical privation. Vast quantities of 
 food and clothing and large sums of money were donated 
 by the churches, the charitable societies, the civic authori- 
 ties and the benevolent associations. But the personal 
 touch of the Christian disciple was very hard to secure for 
 personal work. Where was the discipleship that was obey- 
 ing the Master's command to go itself to the suffering and 
 give itself with its gift, in order to make the gift of value 
 in time to come? The Bishop found his heart sink within 
 him as he faced this fact more than any other. Men would 
 give money, who would not think of giving themselves. 
 And the money they gave did not represent any real sacri- 
 fice, because they did not miss it. They gave what was the 
 easiest to give, what hurt them the least. Where did the 
 sacrifice come in? Was this following Jesus; was this going 
 with Him all the way? He had been to many members 
 of his own wealthy and aristocratic congregation, and 
 was appalled to find how few men and women of that luxu- 
 rious class in the churches would really suffer any genuine 
 inconvenience for the sake of suffering humanit5^ Is char- 
 ity the giving of worn-out garments? Is it a ten-dollar bill 
 given to a paid visitor or secretary of some benevolent 
 organization in the church? Shall the man never go and 
 give his gift, himself? Shall the woman never deny her- 
 self her reception or her party or her musicale and go and 
 actually touch, herself, the foul, sinful sore of diseased 
 humanity as it festers in the great metropolis? Shall char- 
 
248 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ity be conveniently and easily clone through some organiza- 
 tion? Is it possible to organize the affections so that love 
 shall work disagreeable things by proxy? 
 
 All this the Bishop asked, as he plunged deeper into the 
 sin and sorrow of that bitter winter. He was bearing his 
 cross with joy. But he burned and fought within, over the 
 shifting of personal love, by the many, upon the hearts of 
 the few. And still, silently, powerfully, resistlessly, the 
 Holy Spirit was moving through the church, upon even 
 the aristocratic, wealthy, ease-loving members, who shunned 
 the terrors of the social problem as they would shun a con- 
 tagious disease. 
 
 This fact was impressed upon the Bishop and the Settle- 
 ment workers in a startling way one morning. Perhaps no 
 one incident of that winter shows more plainly how much of 
 a momentum had already grown out of the movement of 
 Nazareth Avenue Church and the action of Dr. Bruce and 
 the Bishop, that followed the pledge to do as Jesus 
 would do. 
 
 The breakfast hour at the Settlement was the one hour 
 in the day when the whole resident family found a little 
 breathing space to fellowship together. It was an hour of 
 relaxation. There was a great deal of good natured repartee 
 and much real wit and enjoyable fun at this hour. The 
 Bishop told his best stories. Dr. Bruce was at his best in 
 anecdote. This company of disciples was healthily humor- 
 ous in spite of the atmosphere of sorrow that constantly 
 surrounded them. In fact, the Bishop often said that the 
 faculty of humor was as God-given as any other; and in 
 his own case it was the only safety valve he had for the 
 tremendous pressure put upon him. 
 
 This particular morning the Bishop wa« reading 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 249 
 
 extracts from a morning paper for the benefit of the others. 
 Suddenly he paused and his face instantly grew stern and 
 sad. The rest looked up and a hush fell over the table. 
 
 "Shot and killed while taking a lump of coal from a car. 
 His family was freezing and he had had no work for six 
 months. His si^ children and a wife all packed into a cabin 
 Avith three rooms, on the West Side. One child wrapped 
 in rags in a closet!" 
 
 These were head-lines that the Bishop read slowly. He 
 then went on and read the detailed account of the shooting 
 and the visit of the reporter to the tenement where the 
 family lived. 
 
 He finished and there was silence around the table. The 
 humor of the hour was SAvept out of existence by this bit 
 of human tragedy. The great city roared about the Set- 
 tlement. The awful current of human life was flowing in 
 a great stream past the Settlement house and those who 
 had work were hurrying to it In a vast throng. But thou- 
 sands were going down in the midst of that current, clutch- 
 ing at last hopes, dying, literally in a land of plenty, 
 because the boon of physical toil was denied them. 
 
 There were various comments on the part of the resi- 
 dents. One of the new comers, a young man preparing for 
 the miuistr3', said, "Why didn't the man apply to one of the 
 charity organizations for help? Or to the city? It certainly 
 is not true that, even at its worst, this city full of Christian 
 people would knowingly allow any one to go without food 
 or fuel." 
 
 "No, I don't believe that it would," replied Dr. Bruce. 
 "But we don't know the history of that man's case. He 
 may liavo asked for help so often before, that finally, in a 
 
350 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 moment of desperation, he determined to help himself. I 
 have known such cases this winter." 
 
 "That is not the terrible fact in this case," said the 
 Bishop. "The awful thing about it is the fact that the 
 man had not had any work for six months." 
 
 "Why don't such people go out into the country?" asked 
 the divinity student. 
 
 Some one at the table who had made a special study 
 of the opportunities for work in the country answered the 
 question. According to the investigator, the places that 
 were possible for work in the country were exceedingly 
 few for steady employment, and in almost every case they 
 were offered only to men without families. Suppose a 
 man's wife and children were ill. How could he move or 
 get into the country? How could he pay even the meager 
 sum necessary to move his few goods? There were a thou- 
 sand reasons probably why this particular man did not go 
 elsewhere. 
 
 "Meanwhile, there are the wife and children," said Mrs. 
 Bruce. "How awful! Where is the place, did you say?" 
 
 The Bishop took up the paper. 
 
 "Why, it's only three blocks from here. This is the 
 Penrose district. I believe Penrose, himself, owns half of 
 the houses in that block. They are among the worst houses 
 in this part of the city. And Penrose is a church member." 
 
 "Yes, he belongs to the Nazareth Avenue Church," 
 replied Dr. Bruce in a low voice. 
 
 The Bishop rose from the table the very figure of divine 
 wrath. He had opened his lips to say what seldom came 
 from him in the way of denunciation, when the bell rang 
 and one of the residents went to the door. 
 
 "Tell Dr. Bruce and the Bishop I want to see then). 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 351 
 
 Penrose is the name. Clarence Penrose. Dr. Bruce knows 
 me." 
 
 The family at the breakfast table heard every word. 
 The Bishop exchanged a significant look with Dr. Bruce 
 and the two men instantly left the table and went out into 
 the hall. 
 
 "Come in here, Penrose," said Dr. Bruce, and he and the 
 Bishop ushered the visitor into the reception room. They 
 closed the door and were alone. 
 
 Clarence Penrose was one of the most elegant looking 
 men in Chicago. He came from an aristocratic family of 
 great wealth and social distinction. He was exceedingly 
 wealthy and had large property holdings in different parts 
 of the city. He had been a member of Dr. Bruce's church 
 all his life. 
 
 This man faced the Bishop and his former pastor with 
 a look of agitation on his countenance that showed plainly 
 the mark of some unusual experience. He was very pale 
 and his lip trembled as he spoke. When had Clarence Pen- 
 rose ever before yielded to such a strange emotion of 
 feeling? 
 
 "This affair of the shootingi You understand. You 
 have read it. The family lived in one of my houses. It is 
 a terrible event. But that is not the primary cause of my 
 visit." He stammered and looked anxiously into the faces 
 of the two men. The Bishop still looked stern. He could 
 not help feeling that this elegant man of leisure could have 
 done a great deal to alleviate the horrors in his tenements, 
 possibly have prevented this tragedy, if he had sacrificed 
 some of his personal ease and luxury to better the condition 
 of the people In his district. 
 
 Penrose turned to Dr. Bruce. 
 
852 IN HIS STEPS 
 
 "Doctor!" he exclaimed, aud there was almost a child's 
 terror in his voice. "I came to say that I have had an 
 experience so unusual that nothing but the supernatural 
 can explain it. You remember I was one of those who took 
 the pledge to do as Jesus would do. I thought at the time, 
 poor fool that I was, that I had all along been doing the 
 Christian thing. I gave liberally out of my abundance to 
 the church and charity. I never gave myself to cost me 
 any suffering. I have been living in a perfect hell of con- 
 tradictions ever since I took the pledge. My little girl, 
 Diana, you remember also took the pledge with me. She 
 has been asking me a great many questions lately about 
 the poor people and where they lived. I was obliged to 
 answer her. One of her questions last night touched my 
 sore: Did I own any houses where those people lived? 
 Were they nice and warm like ours? You know how a 
 child will ask questions like these. I went to bed tormented 
 with what I now know to be the divine arrows of conscience. 
 I could not sleep. I seemed to see the judgment day. I 
 was placed before the Judge. I was asked to give account 
 of my deeds done in the body: How many sinful souls had 
 I visited in prison? What had I done with my steward- 
 ship? How about those tenements where people froze in 
 winter and stifled in summer? Did I give any thought to 
 them, except to receive the rentals from them? Where did 
 my suffering come in? Would Jesus have done as I had 
 done and was doing? Had I broken my pledge? How had 
 I used the money and the culture and the social influence 
 I possessed? Had I used it to bless humanity, to relieve 
 the suffering, to bring joy to the distressed and hope to the 
 desponding? I had received much. How much had I 
 given? 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS UO ?" 258 
 
 "All this came to me lu a waking vision as distinctly as 
 I see you two men and myself now. I was unable to see 
 the end of the vision. I had a confused picture in my 
 mind of the suffering Christ pointing a condemning finger 
 at me, and the rest was shut out by mist and darkness. I 
 have not had sleep for twenty-four hours. The first thing 
 I saw this morning was the account of the shooting at the 
 coal yards. I read the account with a feeling of horror 
 I have not been able to shake off. I am a guilty creature 
 before God." 
 
 Penrose paused suddenly. The two men looked at 
 him solemnly. What power of the Holy Spirit moved the 
 soul of this hitherto self-satisfied, elegant, cultured man 
 who belonged to the social life that was accustomed to go 
 its wa3% placidly unmindful of the great sorrows of a great 
 citj' and practically ignorant of what it means to suffer for 
 Jesus' sake. 
 
 Into that room came a breath such as before swept over 
 Henry ^Maxwell's church and through Nazareth Avenue. 
 And the Bishop laid his hand on the shoulder of Penrose 
 and said, "My brother, God has been very near to you. Let 
 us thank him." 
 
 "Yes, yes," sobbed Penrose. He sat down on a chair 
 and covered his face. The Bishop prayed. Then Penrose 
 quietly said, "Will you go with me to that house?" 
 
 For answer, both Dr. Bruce and the Bishop put on their 
 overcoats and went out with him to the home of the dead 
 man's family. This was the beginning of a new and 
 strange life for Clarence Penrose. From the moment he 
 stepped into that wretched hovel of a home and faced for 
 the first time in his life a despair and suffering such as he 
 had read of but did not know by personal contact, he dated 
 
254 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 a new life. It would be anothei' long story to tell how, in 
 obedience to his pledge, he began to do with his tenement 
 property as he knew Jesus would do. What would Jesus do 
 with tenement property, if He owned it in Chicago or any 
 other great city of the world? Any man who can imagine 
 any true answer to this question can easily tell w^hat Clar- 
 ence Penrose began to do. 
 
 Now, before that winter reached its bitter climax, many 
 things occurred in the city that concerned the lives of all 
 the characters in this history of the disciples who promised 
 to walk in His steps. 
 
 It chanced, by one of those remarkable coincidences that 
 seem to occur preternaturally, that one afternoon, just as 
 Felicia came out of the Settlement with a basket of food 
 which she was going to leave as a sample with a baker 
 in the Penrose district, Stephen Clyde opened the door of 
 the carpenter shop in the basement and came out of the 
 lower door, in time to meet Felicia as she reached the side- 
 ,walk. 
 
 "Let me carry your basket, please," he said. 
 
 "Why do you say 'please'?*' asked Felicia handing over 
 the basket. 
 
 "I would like to say something else," replied Stephen, 
 glancing at her shyly and yet with a boldness that fright- 
 ened him, for he had been loving Felicia more every day 
 since he first saw her, and especially since she stepped into 
 the shop that day with the Bishop, and for weeks now they 
 had been in many ways thrown into each other's company. 
 
 "What else?" asked Felicia innocently, falling into the 
 trap. 
 
 "Why—" said Stephen, turning his fair, noble face full 
 towards her and eyeing her with the look of one who would 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 355 
 
 have the best of all thiugs iu the u.uiverse, "I would like 
 to say, 'Let me carry your basket, clear Felicia.' " 
 
 Felicia never looked so beautiful in her life. She walked 
 on a little way without even turning her face towards him. 
 It was no secret with her own heart that she had given it to 
 Stephen some time ago. Finally she turned and said shylj% 
 while her face grew rosy and her eyes tender, "Why don't 
 you say it then?" 
 
 "May I?" cried Stephen, and he was so careless for a 
 minute of the way he held the basket, that Felicia exclaimed, 
 "Yes! But Oh, don't drop my goodies!" 
 
 "Why, I wouldn't drop anything so precious for all the 
 world, 'dear Felicia'," said Stephen who now walked on air 
 for several blocks; and what else was said during that walk 
 is private correspondence that we have no right to read. 
 Only, it is matter of history that day that the basket never 
 reached its destination, and that over in the other direction, 
 late in the afternoon, the Bishop, walking along quietly in 
 a rather secluded spot near the outlying part of the Settle- 
 ment district, heard a familiar voice say, "But tell me, 
 I'elicia, when did you begin to love me!" 
 
 "I fell in love with a little pine shaving just above 
 your ear, that day I saw you in the shop!" said the other 
 voice, with a laugh so clear, so pure, so sweet, that it did 
 one good to hear it. 
 
 The next moment, the Bishop turned the corner and 
 came upon them. 
 
 "Where are you going with that basket?" he tried to 
 say sternly. 
 
 "We're taking it to— Where are we taking it to, Felicia?" 
 
 "Dear Bishop, we are taking it home to begin—" 
 
356 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 "To begin housekeeping with," finished Stephen, com- 
 ing to the rescue. 
 
 "Are you?" said the Bishop. "I hope you will invite me 
 in to share. I l^now what Felicia's cooliing is." 
 
 "Bishop, dear Bishop," said Felicia, and she did not pre- 
 tend to hide her happiness, "indeed, you shall always be the 
 most honored guest. Are you glad?" 
 
 "Yes, I am," replied the Bishop, interpreting Felicia's 
 words as she wished. Then he paused a moment and said 
 gently, "God bless you both," and went his way with a tear 
 in his eye and a prayer in his heart, and left them to their 
 joy. 
 
 Yes. Shall not the same divine power of love that 
 belongs to earth be lived and sung by the disciples of the 
 Man of Sorrows and the Burden Bearer of Sins? Yea, 
 verily! And this man and woman shall walk hand in hand 
 through this great desert of human woe in this city, 
 strengthening each other, growing more loving with the expe- 
 rience of the world's sorrows, walking in His steps even 
 closer yet because of this love, bringing added blessing to 
 thousands of wretched creatures because they are to have 
 a home of their own to share with the homeless. "For this 
 cause," said our Lord Jesus Christ, "shall a man leave his 
 father and mother and cleave unto his wife." And Fe- 
 licia and Stephen, following the Master, love Him with 
 deeper, truer service and devotion because of the earthly 
 affection which heaven itself sanctions with its solemn 
 blessing. 
 
 Now it was a little after the love story of the Settle- 
 ment became a part of its glory, that Henry Maxwell of 
 Raymond came to Chicago with Rachel Winslow and Vir- 
 ginia Page and Rollin, and Alexander Powers and Presi- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 257 
 
 dent Marsh, and the occasion was a remarkable gathering 
 at the hall of the Settlement arranged by the Bishop and 
 Dr. Bruce, who had finally persuaded Mr. Maxwell and his 
 fellow disciples of Raymond to come on to be present at 
 this meeting. 
 
 The Bishop invited into the Settlement Hall meeting 
 for that night, men out of work, wretched creatures who 
 had lost faith in God and man, anarchists and infidels, free 
 thinkers and no thinkers. The representatives of all the 
 cit3''s worst, most hopeless, most dangerous, depraved ele- 
 ments faced Henry ^laxwell and the other disciples when 
 the meeting began. And still the Holy Spirit moved over 
 the great, heaving, selfi^^h, pleasure-loving, sin-stained city, 
 and it lay in God's hand, not knowing all that awaited it. 
 Every man and woman at the meeting that night had seen 
 the Settlement motto over the door, blazing through the 
 transparency set up by .the divinity student: "What would 
 Jesus do?" 
 
 And Henry Maxwell, as for the first time he stepped 
 under the doorway, was touched with a deeper emotion 
 than he had felt in a long time, as he thought of the first 
 time that question had come to him in the piteous appeal 
 of the shabby young man who had appeared in the First 
 Church of Raymond at the morning service. 
 
 Was his great desire for Christian fellowship i^oiug to 
 be granted? Would the movement begun in Ri^ymond 
 actually spread over the country? He had come to Chicago 
 with his friends, partly to see if the answer to that question 
 would be found in the heart of the great city life. In a 
 few minutes he would face the people. He had growr very 
 strong and calm since he first spoke with trembling to ^hat 
 company of working men in the railroad shops- but now. 
 
358 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 as then, he breathed a deeper prayer for help. Then he 
 went in and with the Bishop and the rest of the disciples 
 he experienced one of the great and important events of 
 the earthly life. Somehow, he felt as if this meeting would 
 indicate something of an answer to his constant query, 
 "What would Jesus do?" And to-night as he looked into 
 the faces of men and women who had for years been 
 strangers and enemies to the church, his heart cried out, 
 "O my Master, teach Thy church how to follow Thy steps 
 better!" Is that prayer of Henry Maxwell's to be 
 answered? Will the church in the city respond to 
 the call to follow Him? Will it choose to walli in His steps 
 of pain and suffering? And still, over all the city, broods 
 the Spirit. Grieve Him not, O city! For He was never 
 more ready to revolutionize this world than now! 
 
CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 "Yet lackest thou one thing; sell all that thou hast and dis 
 tribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; 
 and come, follow me." 
 
 When Henry Maxwell began to speak to the souls 
 crowded into the Settlement Hall that night, it is doubtful 
 if he had ever before faced such an audience in his life. 
 It is quite certain that the city of Raymond did not contain 
 such a variety of humanity. Not even the Rectangle, at its 
 worst, could furnish so many men and women who had 
 fallen entirely out of the reach of the church and all reli- 
 gious, and even Christian influences. 
 
 What did he talk about? He had already decided that 
 point. He told, in the simplest language he could com- 
 mand, some of the results of obedience to the pledge as it 
 had been taken in Raymond. Every man and woman in 
 that audience knew something about Jesus Christ. They 
 all had some idea of His character and, however much 
 they had grown bitter towards the forms of Christian 
 ecclesiasticism, or the social system, they preserved some 
 standard of right and truth, and what little some of them 
 still retained was taken from the person of the Peasant of 
 (lalilee. 
 
 So they were interested in what Maxwell said. "What 
 would Jesus do?" He began to apply the question to the 
 social problem in general, after finishing the story of Ray- 
 mond. The audience was respectfully attentive. It was 
 
260 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 more than that. It was genuinely interested. As Mr. Max- 
 well went on, faces all over the hall leaned forward, in a 
 way very seldom seen in church audiences or anywhere, 
 except among working men or the people of the street when 
 once they are thoroughly aroused. "What would Jesus 
 do?" Suppose that were the motto, not only of the churches 
 but of the business men, the politicians, the newspapers, 
 the working men, the society people— how long would it 
 take, under such a standard of conduct, to revolutionize the 
 world? What was the trouble with the world? It was 
 suffering from selfishness. No one ever lived who had suc- 
 ceeded in overcoming selfishness like Jesus. If men fol- 
 lowed Him, regardless of results, the world would at once 
 begin to enjoy a new life. 
 
 Henry Maxwell never knew how much It meant to hold 
 the respectful attention of that hall full of diseased and 
 sinful humanity. The Bishop and Dr. Bruce, sitting there, 
 looking on, seeing many faces that represented scorn of 
 creeds, hatred of the social order, desperate narrowness and 
 selfishness, marveled that even so soon, under the influence 
 of the Settlement life, the softening process had begun 
 already to lessen the bitterness of hearts, many of which 
 had grown bitter from neglect and indifference. 
 
 And still, in spite of the outward show of respect to 
 the speaker, no one, not even the Bishop, had any true con- 
 ception of the pent-up feeling in that room that night. 
 Among the men who had heard of the meeting and had 
 responded to the invitation were twenty or thirty men out 
 of work, who had strolled past the Settlement that after- 
 noon, read the notice of the meeting and had come in out 
 of curiosity, and to escape the chill east wind. It was a 
 bitter iiisht and the saloons were full. But In that whole 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 261 
 
 district of over thirty tliousand souls, Avitli the exception 
 of the saloons there M'as not a door open to the people 
 except the clean, pure, Christian door of the Settlement. 
 AYhere would a man without a home, or without work, or 
 without friends, uaturallj- go, unless to a saloon? 
 
 It had been the custom at the Settlement for a free and 
 open discussion to follow an open meeting of this Ivind, and 
 when Henrj' Maxwell finished and sat down, the Bishop, 
 who presided to-night, rose and made the announcement 
 that any man in the hall was at liberty to ask questions, to 
 speak out his feelings or declare his convictions, always 
 with the understanding that whoever took part was to 
 observe the simple rules that governed parliamentary 
 bodies and obey the three-minute rule which, by common 
 consent, would be enforced on account of the numbers 
 present. 
 
 Instantly a number of voices from men who had been 
 at previous meetings of this kind, exclaimed, "Consent: 
 consent I" 
 
 The Bishop sat down and immediately a man near the 
 middle of the hall rose and began to speak. 
 
 "I want to say that what Mr. Maxw^ell has said to-night 
 comes pretty close to me. I knew Jack Manning, the fellow 
 he told about, who died at his house. I worked on next 
 case to his in a printer's shop in Philadelphia for two years. 
 Jack was a good fellow. He loaned me five dollars once 
 when I was in a hole and I never got a chance to pay it 
 back. He moved to New York, owing to a change in the 
 management of the office that threw him out, and I never 
 saw him again. When the linotype machines came in, 
 1 was one of the men to go out, just as he did. I have been 
 out most of the time since. They say inventions are a good 
 
262 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 thing. I don't always see it myself. But I suppose I'm 
 prejudiced. A man naturally is when he loses a steady job 
 because a machine takes his place. About this Christianity 
 he tells about, it's all right. But I never expect to see 
 any such sacrifice on the part of church people. So far as 
 my observation goes, they're just as selfish and as greedy 
 for money or worldly success as anybody. I except the 
 Bishop and Dr. Bruce and a few others. But I never found 
 much difference between men of the world, as they're 
 called, and church members, when it came to business and 
 money-making. One class is just as bad as another there." 
 
 Cries of "That's sol" "You're right!" "Of course!" 
 interrupted the speaker, and the minute he sat down, two 
 men who were on their feet for several seconds before the 
 first speaker was through, began to talk at once. 
 
 The Bishop called them to order and indicated which 
 was entitled to the floor. The man who remained standing, 
 began eagerly, 
 
 "This is the first time I was ever in here, and maj'be 
 it'll be the last. Fact is, I'm about at the end of my string. 
 I've tramped this city for work until I'm sick. I'm in 
 plenty of company. Say! I'd like to ask a question of the 
 minister, if it's fair. May I?" 
 
 "That's for Mr. Maxwell to say," said the Bishop. 
 
 "By all means," replied Mr. Maxwell quickly. "Of 
 course I will not promise to answer it to the gentleman's 
 satisfaction." 
 
 "This is my question." The man leaned forward and 
 stretched out a long arm, with a certain dramatic force that 
 grew naturally enough out of his condition as a human 
 being. 
 
 "I want to know what Jesus would do in my case? I 
 
"WHAT ^VOULD JESUS DO?" 2«8 
 
 baveu't had a stroke of work for two months. I've got a 
 wife auil three chilclreu aud I love them as much as if 1 was 
 worth a million dollars. I've been living- off a little earn- 
 ings I saved up during the World's Fair jobs I got. I'm a 
 cari)enter by trade, and I've tried every way I know to get a 
 job. You say we ought to take for our motto, 'What would 
 Jesus do?' What Avould He do if He was out of work like 
 me? I can't be somebody else and ask the question. I want 
 to work. I'd give anything to grow tired of working ten 
 hours a day the way I used to. Am I to blame because I 
 can't manufacture a job for myself? I've got to live, and 
 my wife and my children. But how? What would Jesus 
 do? You say that's the question we all ought to ask." 
 
 Henry Maxwell sat there staring at the great sea of 
 faces all intent on his, and no answer to this man's ques- 
 tion seemed, for the time being, to be possible. "O God I" 
 his heart prayed. "This is a question that brings up the 
 entire social problem in all its perplexing entanglement of 
 human wrongs and its present condition contrary to every 
 desire of God for a human being's welfare. Is there any 
 condition more awful than for a man in good health, able 
 and eager to work, with no means of honest livelihood 
 unless he does work, actually unable to get anything to do, 
 and driven to one of three things, begging or charity at the 
 hands of friends or strangers, or suicide, or starvation. What 
 would Jesus do? It was a fair question for the man to ask. 
 It was the only question he could ask, supposing him to be 
 a disciple of Christ. But what a question for any man to 
 be obliged to ask under such conditions?" 
 
 All this and more did Henry Maxwell ponder. All the 
 others were thinking in the same way. The Bishop sat 
 there with a look so stern and sad that it was not hard 
 
264 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 to tell liow the question moved him. Dr. Bruce had his 
 head bowed. The human problem had never seemed to 
 him so tragical as since he had taken the pledge and left 
 his church to enter the Settlement. What would Jesus do? 
 It was a terrible question. And still the man stood there, 
 tall and gaunt and almost terrible, with his arm stretched 
 ou4 in an appeal which grew everj' second in meaning. 
 
 At length Mr. Maxwell spoke. 
 
 "Is there any man in the room, who is a Christian disci- 
 ple, who has been in this condition and has tried to do as 
 Jesus would do? If so such a man can answer this ques- 
 tion better than I can." 
 
 There was a moment's hush over the room and then a 
 man near the front of the hall slowly rose. He was an old 
 man, and the hand he laid on the back of the bench in front 
 of him trembled as he spoke. 
 
 "I think I can safely say that I have many times been 
 in just such a condition and have always tried to be a 
 Christian under all conditions. I don't know as I have 
 always asked this question, 'What would Jesus do?' when 
 I have been out of work, but I do know I have tried to be 
 His disciple at all times. Yes," the man went on, with a 
 sad smile that was more pathetic to the Bishop and Mr. 
 Maxwell than the young man's grim despair, "yes, I have 
 begged, and I have been to the charity organizations, and 
 I have done everything when out of a job, except steal and 
 lie, in order to get food and fuel. I don't know as Jesus 
 would have done some of the things I have been obliged 
 to do for a living, but I know I have never knowingly done 
 wrong when out of work. Sometimes I think maybe He 
 would have starved sooner than beg. I don't know." 
 
 The old man's voice trembled and he looked around the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 205 
 
 room timicUj-. A silence followed, brokeu by a fierce voice 
 from a large, black-haired, lieavily-beartled man who sat 
 three seats from the Bishop. The minute he spoke, nearly 
 every man in the hall leaned forward eagerly. The man 
 who had asked the question, "What would Jesus do in my 
 case?" slowly sat down and asked the man next to him, 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 "That's Carlson, the socialistic leader. Now you'll hear 
 something." 
 
 "This is all bosh, to my mind." began Carlson, while his 
 great, bristling beard shook with the deep, inward anger 
 of the man. "The whole of our system is at fault. What 
 we call civilization is rotten to the core. There is no use 
 trying to hide it or cover it up? We live in an age of trusts 
 and combines and capitalistic greed thpt means simply 
 death to thousands of innocent men, v\-omen and children. 
 I thank God, if there is a God, which I verj' much doubt, 
 that I, for one, have never dared to marry and try to have 
 a home. Home! Talk of hell! Is there any bigger than 
 the one this man with his three children has on his hands 
 right this minute? And he's only one out of thousands. 
 And yet this city, and every other big city in this country, 
 Ims its thousands of professed Christians who have all the 
 luxuries and comforts, and who go to church Sundays and 
 sing their hymns about giving all to Jesus and bearing the 
 cross and following Him all the way and being saved! I 
 don't say that there aren't some good men and women 
 among them, but let the minister who has spoken to us 
 here to-night go into any one of a dozen aristocratic 
 churches I could name and propose to the members to take 
 any such pledge as the one lie's proposed here to-night, and 
 see how quick the people would laugh at him for a fool or 
 
266 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 a crank or a fanatic. Oh no! That's not the remedy. That 
 can't ever amount to anything. TVe've got to have a new 
 start in the v^aj of goTernment. The T\'hol8 thing needs 
 reconstructing. I don't look for any reform worth anything 
 to come out of the churches. They are not with the people. 
 They are with the aristocrats, with the men of money. The 
 trusts and monopolies have their greatest men in the 
 churches. The ministers as a class are their slaves. What 
 we need is a system that shall start from the common basis 
 of socialism founded on the rights of the common people—" 
 
 Carlson had evidently forgotten all about the three- 
 minute rule and was launching himself into a regular ora- 
 tion that meant, in his usual surroundings, before his usual 
 audience, an hour at least, when the man just behind him 
 pulled him down unceremoniously and rose. Carlsen was 
 angry at first and threatened a little disturbance, but the 
 Bishop reminded him of the rule and he subsided, with sev- 
 eral mutterings in his beard, while the next speaker began 
 with a very strong eulogy on the value of the single tax 
 as a genuine remedy for all the social ills. He was followed 
 by a man who made a bitter attack on the churches and 
 ministers, and declared that the two great obstacles in the 
 Avay of all true reform were tlie courts and the eccle- 
 siastical machines. 
 
 When he sat down, a man who bore every mark of 
 being a street laborer sprang to his feet and poured out a 
 perfect torrent of abuse against the corporations, especially 
 the railroads. The minute his time was up, a big, brawny 
 fellow, who said he was a metal worker by trade, claimed 
 the floor and declared that the remedy for the social wrongs 
 was Trades Unionism. This, he said, would bring on the 
 millennium for labor, more than anything else. The next 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 367 
 
 man endeavored to give some reasons why so many persons 
 were out of employment and condemned inventions as 
 worlds of the devil. He was loudly applauded by the rest 
 of the company. 
 
 Finally the Bishop called time on the "free for all," and 
 asked Rachel to sing. 
 
 Rachel Winslow had grown into a very strong, health- 
 ful, humble Christian, during that wonderful year in Ray- 
 mond dating from the Sunday when she first took the 
 pledge to do as Jesus would do, and her great talent of song 
 had been fully consecrated to the service of her Master. 
 When she began to sing to-night at this Settlement meet- 
 ing, she had never prayed more deeply for results to come 
 from her voice— the voice which she now regarded as tlie 
 Master's, to be used for Him. 
 
 Certainly her prayer was being answered as she sang. 
 She haS chosen the words, 
 
 "Hark I The voice of Jesus calling. 
 Follow ine, follow me!" 
 
 Again Henry Maxwell, sitting there, was reminded of 
 his first night at the Rectangle, in the tent, when Rachel 
 sang the people into quiet. The effect was the same here. 
 What wonderful power a good voice consecrated to the 
 Master's service always is I Rachel's great natural ability 
 would have made her one of the foremost opera singers of 
 the age. Surely this audience had never before heard such 
 melody. How could it? The men who had drifted in from 
 the street sat entranced by a voice which, "back in the 
 world," never could be heard by the common people, 
 because the owner of it would charge two or three dollars 
 
368 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 for the privilege. The song poured out tlirough the hali as 
 free and glad as if it were a foretaste of salvation itself. 
 Carlsen, with his gTeat black-bearded face, absorbed the 
 music with the deep love of it peculiar to his nationality, 
 and a tear ran over his cheek and glistened in his beard 
 as his face softened and became almost noble in its aspect. 
 The man out of work who had wanted to knovr what Jesus 
 would do in his place, sat with grimy hand on the back of 
 the bench in front of him,with his mouth partly open, his 
 great tragedy for the moment forgotten. The song, while 
 it lasted, was food and work and warmth and union with 
 his wife and babies once more. The man who had spoken 
 so fiercely against the churches and the ministers, sat with 
 his head erect at first, with a look of stolid resistance, as if 
 he stubbornly resented the introduction into the exercises 
 of anything that was even remotely connected with the 
 church or its form of worship. But gradually he yielded 
 to the power that was swaying the hearts of all the persons 
 in that room, and a look of sad thoughtfulness crept over 
 his face. 
 
 The Bishop said to himself that night, while Rachel was 
 singing, that if the world of sinful, diseased, depraved, lost 
 hum.anity could only have the gospel preached to it by conse- 
 crated prima donnas and professional tenors and altos and 
 bassos, he believed it would hasten the coming of the King- 
 dom quicker than any other one force. "Why, Oh, why," 
 he cried in his heart, as he listened, "has the world's great 
 treasure in song been so often held far from the poor, 
 because the personal possessor of voice or fingers capa- 
 ble of stirring divinest melody has so often regarded 
 the gift as something with which to make money! Sliail 
 tbtEfre be no martylrs among the gifted ones of the earth? 
 
"WHAT WOULD .IKSUS DOV" 269 
 
 Shall there be no giving of this gront glfl ns well as of 
 others?" 
 
 And Henry Maxwell again, as before, called up that 
 other audience at the Rectangle, with increasing longing 
 for a larger spread of the new discipleship, What he had 
 seen and heard at the Settlement bnrned into him deeper 
 the belief that the problem of the city would be solved, 
 if the Christians in it should once follow Jesus as He gave 
 commandment. But what of this great mass of humanity, 
 neglected and sinful, the very kind of humanity the Savior 
 came to save, with all its mistakes and narrowness, its 
 wretchedness and loss of hope, above all, its unqualified 
 bitterness towards the church. That was what smote 
 Henry Maxwell deepest. AVas the church then so far from 
 the Master that the people no longer found Him in the 
 church? Was it true that the church had lost its power 
 over the very kind of humanity which in the early ages 
 of Christianity it reached in the greatest numbers? How 
 much was true in what the Socialist leader said about the 
 uselessness of looking to the church for reform or redemp- 
 tion, because of the selfishness and seclusion and aristoc- 
 racy of its members? 
 
 He Was more and more impressed with the appalling 
 fact that the comparatively few men hi the Hall, now being 
 held quiet for a while by Rachel's voice represented thou- 
 sands of others just like them, to whom a church and a 
 minister stood for less than a saloon or a beer garden, as 
 a source of comfort or happiness. Ought it to be so? If 
 the church members were all doing as Jesus would do, 
 could it remain true that armies of men would walk the 
 streets for jobs, and hundreds of them curse the church, 
 find ihousnnds of thoiii find in tlie saloon their best friend? 
 
270 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 How far were the Christians responsible for this human 
 problem that was personally illustrated right in this Hall 
 to-night? Was it true that the great city churches would, 
 as a rule, refuse to walk in Jesus' steps so closely as to 
 suffer, actually suffer for His sake? 
 
 Henry Maxwell kept asking this question even after 
 Rachel had finished singing and the meeting had come to 
 an end, after a social gathering which was very informal. 
 He asked it while the little company of residents, with the 
 Raymond visitors, were having a devotional service, as the 
 custom in the Settlement was. He asked it during a con- 
 ference with the Bishop and Dr. Bruce which lasted until 
 one o'clock. He asked it as he kneeled again before sleep- 
 ing, and poured out his soul in his petition for spiritual 
 baptism on the church in America such as it had never 
 known. He asked it the first thing in the morning and all 
 through the day, as he went over the Settlement district 
 and saw the life of the people so far removed from the life 
 abundantly. Would the church members, would the Chris- 
 tians, not only in the churches of Chicago but throughout 
 the country, refuse to walk in His steps, if in order to do 
 so they must actually take up a cross and follow Him? 
 
 This was the one question that continually demanded 
 answer. He had planned when he came to the citj^ to 
 return to Raymond and be in his own pulpit on Sunday. 
 But Friday morning he had received at the Settlement a 
 call from the pastor of one of the largest churches in Chi- 
 cago and had been invited to fill the pulpit for both morn- 
 ing and evening service. 
 
 At first he hesitated, but finally accepted, seeing in it 
 the hand of the Spirit's guiding power. He would test his 
 own question. He would prove the truth or falsity of the 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 271 
 
 charge made against the church at the Settlement meet- 
 ing. How far would it go in its self-denial for Jesus' 
 sake? How close would it walk in His steps? Was the 
 church willing to suffer for its Master? 
 
 Saturday- night, he spent in prayer nearly the whole 
 night. There had nevtr been so great a wrestling in his 
 soul, even during his strongest experiences in Ray- 
 mond. He had in fact entered upon a new experience. The 
 definition of his own discipleship was receiving an added 
 test at this time, and he was being led into a larger truth 
 €t his Lord. 
 
 The great church was filled to its utmost. Henry Max- 
 well, coming into the pulpit from that all-night vigil, felt 
 the pressure of a great curiosity on the part of the people. 
 They had heard of the Raymond movement, as all the 
 churches had, and the recent action of Dr. Bruce had added 
 to the general interest in the pledge. With this curiosity 
 was something deeper, more serious. Mr.Maxwell felt that 
 also. And in the knowledge that the Spirit's presence was 
 his living strength, he brought his message and gave it to 
 the church that day. 
 
 He had never been what would be called a great 
 preacher. He had not the force or the quality that makes 
 remarkable preachers. But ever since he had promised to 
 do as Jesus would do, h(? had grown in a certain quality of 
 persuasiveness that had all the essentials of true eloquence. 
 This morning the people felt the complete sincerity and 
 humility of a man who had gone deep into the heart of a 
 great truth. 
 
 After telling briefly of some results in his own church, 
 in Raymond, since the pledge was taken, he went on to ask 
 the question he had been asking since the Settlement meet- 
 
272 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ing. He had taken for his theme the story of the young 
 man who came to Jesus, asking what he must do to obtain 
 eternal life. Jesus had tested him: "Sell all that thou hast 
 and give to the poor and thou shalt have treasure in 
 heaven, and come, follow me." But the young man was not 
 willing to suffer to that extent. If following Jesus meant 
 suffering in that w^ay, he was not willing. He would like 
 to follow Jesus, but not if he had to give up so much. 
 
 "Is it true," continued Henry Maxwell, and his fine, 
 thoughtful face glowed with a passion of appeal that 
 stirred the people as they had seldom been stirred, "is it 
 true that the church of to-day, the church that is called 
 after Christ's own name, would refuse to follow Jesus at 
 the expense of suffering, of physical loss, of temporary 
 gain? The statement was made, at a large gathering in 
 the Settlement last week, by a leader of w'orkingmen, that 
 it was hopeless to look to the church for any reform or 
 redemption of society. On v,'hat was that statement based? 
 Plainly on the assumption that the church contained, for 
 the most part, men and w^omen who thought more of their 
 own ease and luxury than of the sufferings and needs and 
 sins of humanity. How far was that true? Are the Chris- 
 tians of America ready to have their discipleship tested? 
 How about the men who possess large wealth? Are they 
 ready to take that wealth and use it as Jesus would? How 
 about the men and women of great talent? Are they ready 
 to consecrate that talent to humanity as Jesus undoubtedly 
 would do? 
 
 "Is it not true that the call has come in this age for a 
 new exhibition of discipleship, Christian discipleship? You 
 v/ho live in this great, sinful city must know that, better 
 than I do. Is it possible you can go your ways careless or 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 273 
 
 thoughtless of the awful condition of men and women and 
 children who are dying, body and soul, for Christian help? 
 Is it not a matter of concern to you personally that the 
 saloon kills its thousands more surely than war? Is it not 
 a matter of personal suffering in some form for you, that 
 thousands of able-bodied, willing men tramp the streets of 
 this city, and all cities, crying for work, and drifting into 
 crime and suicide because they cannot find it? Can you 
 say that this is none of your business? Let each man look 
 after himself? Would it not be true, think you, that if every 
 Christian in America did as Jesus would do, society itself, 
 the business world, yes, the veiy political system under 
 which our commercial and governmental activity is carried 
 on, would be so changed that human suffering would be 
 reduced to a minimum? 
 
 "What would be the result if all the church members 
 of this city tried to do as Jesus would do? It is not possible 
 to say in detail what the effect would be. But it is easy to 
 say and it is true that, instantly, the human problem would 
 begin to find an adequate answer. 
 
 "What is the test of Christian dlscipleship? Is it not the 
 same as in Christ's own life-time? Have our surroundings 
 modified or changed the test? If Jesus were here to-day, 
 would He not call some of the members of this very church 
 to do just what He commanded the young man, and ask 
 him to give up his wealth and literally follow Him? I 
 believe He would do that, if He felt certain that any church 
 member thought more of his possessions than of his Savior. 
 The test would be the same to-day as then. I believe Jesus 
 would demand, He does demand now, as close a following, 
 as much suflfering,as great self-denial, as when He lived 
 in person on the earth and said, 'except a man renounceth 
 
274 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 all that be hath, he cannot be My disciple.' That Is, unless 
 be is willing to do it for My sake, he cannot be My disciple. 
 
 "What would be the result, if in this city every church 
 member should begin to do as Jesus would do? It is not 
 easy to go into details of the result. But we all know that 
 certain things would be impossible that are now practiced 
 by church members. What would Jesus do in the matter 
 of wealth ? How would He spend it ? What principle would 
 regulate His use of money? Would He be likely to live in 
 great luxury and spend ten times as much on personal adorn- 
 ment and entertainment as He spent to relieve the needs 
 of suffering hu^nanity? How would Jesus be governed in 
 the making of money? Would He take rentals from saloon 
 and other disreputable property, or even from tenement 
 property that was so constructed that the inmates had no 
 such thing as a home and no such possibility as privacy or 
 cleanliness? 
 
 ''What would Jesus do about the great army of unem- 
 ployed and desperate who tramp the streets and curse the 
 chm'ch, or are indifferent to it, lost in the bitter struggle 
 for the bread that tastes bitter when it is earned, on 
 account of the desperate conflict to get it. Would Jesus 
 care nothing for them? Would He go His way in compara- 
 tive ease and comfort? Would He say it was none of His 
 business? Would He excuse Himself from all responsibility 
 to remove the causes of such a condition? 
 
 "What would Jesus do in the center of a civilization 
 that hurries so fast after money that the very girls 
 employed in great business houses are not paid enough to 
 keep soul and body together without fearful temptations, 
 so great that scores of them fall and are swept over the 
 great, boiling abj^ss; where the demands of trade sacrifice 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 275 
 
 hundreds of lads in a business that ignores all Christian 
 duties towards them in the Avay of education and moral 
 training and personal affection? Would Jesus, if He were 
 here to-day, as a part of our age and commercial industry, 
 feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing, in the face of these 
 facts which every business man knows? 
 
 "What would Jesus do? Is not that what the disciple 
 ought to do? Is he not commanded to follow in His steps? 
 How much is the Christianity of the age suffering for Him? 
 Is it denying itself at the cost of ease, comfort, luxury, ele- 
 gance of living? What does the age need, more than per- 
 sonal sacrifice? Does the church do its duty in following 
 Jesus, when it gives a little money to establish missions 
 or relieve extreme cases of want? Is it any sacrifice for a 
 man who is worth ten million dollars simply to give ten 
 thousand dollars for some benevolent work? Is he not 
 giving something that costs him practically nothing, so far 
 as any personal pain or suffering goes? Is it true that the 
 Christian disciples to-day in most of our churches are living 
 soft, easy, selfish lives, very far from any sacrifice that can 
 be called sacrifice? Vriiat would Jesus do? 
 
 "It is the personal element that Christian discipleshlp 
 needs to emphasize. 'The gift, without the giver, is 
 bare.' The Christianity that attempts to suffer by proxy 
 is not the Christianity of Christ. Each individual Chris- 
 tian, business man, citizen, needs to follow in His steps 
 along the path of personal sacrifice for Him. There is not 
 a different path to-day from that of Jesus' own times. It 
 is the same path. The call of this dying century and of the 
 new one soon to be, is a call for a new discipleship, a new 
 following of Jesus, more like the early, simple, apostolic, 
 Christianity when the disciples left all and literally fol- 
 
276 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 lowed the Master. Nothing but a diseipleship of this kind 
 can face the destructive selfishness of the age, with any 
 hope of overcoming it. There is a great quantity of nomi- 
 nal Christianity to-day. There is need of more of the real 
 kind. We need a revival of the Christianity of Christ. We 
 have, unconsciously, lazily, selfishly, formally, grown into 
 a diseipleship that Jesus Himself would not acknowledge. 
 He would say to many of us, when we cry, 'Lord, Lord,' 
 'I never knew j'ou.' Are we ready to take up the cross? 
 Is it possible for thi?j church to sing with exact truth, 
 
 'Je&us, 1 my croBS bave taken, 
 All to leave and follow thee?' 
 
 If we can sing that truly, then we may claim diseipleship. 
 But if our definition of being a Christian is simply to enjoy 
 the privileges of worship, be generous at no expense to 
 ourselves, have a good, easy time surrounded by pleasant 
 friends and by comfortable things, live respectably, and 
 at the same time avoid the world's great stress of sin and 
 trouble because it is too much pain to bear it— if this is our 
 definition of Christianity, surely we are a long way from 
 following the steps of Him who trod the way with groans 
 and tears and sobs of anguish for a lost humanity, who 
 sweat, as it were, great drops of blood, who cried out on the 
 upreared cross, 'My God! My God! why hast thou for- 
 saken me I' 
 
 "Are we ready to make and live a new diseipleship? 
 Are we readj^ to reconsider our definition of a Christian? 
 What is it to be a Christian? It is to imitate Jesus, It 
 is to do as He would do. It is to walk in His steps." 
 
 When Henry, Maxwell finished his sermon, he paused 
 and looked at the people with a look they never forgot, and 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DOV" 277 
 
 at the momeut did not understand. Crowded into that fash- 
 ionable church that day, were hundreds of men and women 
 who had for years lived the easy, satisfied life of a nominal 
 Christianity. A great silence fell over the congregation. 
 Through the silence, there came to the consciousness of all 
 the souls there present a knowledge, stranger to them now 
 for years, of a Divine Power. Every one expected the 
 preacher to call for volunteers who would do as Jesus 
 would do. But Henry Maxwell had been led by the Spirit 
 to deliver his message this time and wait for results t<» 
 come. 
 
 He closed the service with a tender prayer that liept 
 the Divine Presence lingering very near every hearer, and 
 the people slowly rose to go out. 
 
 Then followed a scene that would have been impossible 
 if any mere man had been alone in his striving for results. 
 
 Men and women in great numbers crowded around the 
 platform to see Henry Maxwell and to bring him the prom- 
 ise of their consecration to the pledge to do as Jesus would 
 do. It was a voluntary, spontaneous movement that broke 
 upon Maxwell's soul with a result he could not measure. 
 But had he not been praying for this very thing? It was 
 an answer that more than met his desires. 
 
 There followed this movement a prayer service that iu 
 its impressions repeated the Raymond experience. In the 
 evening, to Maxwell's intense joy, the Endeavor Society, 
 almost to a member, came forward, as so many of the 
 church members had done in the morning, and seriously, 
 solemnly, tenderly, took the pledge to do as Jesus would 
 do. A deep wave of spiritual baptism broke over'the meet- 
 ing near its close, that was indescribable in its tender, 
 joyful, sympathetic results. 
 
278 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 That was a remarkable day iu the history of that 
 church, but even more so in the history of Henry Maxwell. 
 He left the meeting very late. He went to his room at the 
 Settlement where he was still stopping, and after an hour 
 with the Bishop and Dr. Bruce spent in a joj^ful rehearsal 
 of the wonderful events of the day, he sat down to think 
 over again, by himself, all the experience he was having 
 as a Christian disciple. 
 
 He kneeled to pray, as he always did now before going 
 to sleep, and it was while he was on his knees this night 
 that he had a waking vision of what might be in the world, 
 when once the new discipleship had made its way into the 
 conscience and consciousness of Christendom.- He was 
 fully conscious of being awake, but no less certainly did it 
 seem to him that he saw certain results with great dis- 
 tinctness, partly as realities of the future, partly as great 
 longings that they might be realities. And this is what 
 Henry Maxwell saw in this waking vision: 
 
 He saw himself, first, going back to the First Church 
 in Raymond, living there in a simpler, more self-denying 
 fashion than he had yet been willing to observe, because 
 he saw w^ays in w^hich he could help others who w^ere really 
 dependent on him for help. He also saw, more dimly, that 
 the time w'ould come when his position as pastor of the 
 church would cause him to suffer more, on account of grow- 
 ing opposition to his interpretation of Jesus and His con- 
 duct. But this was vaguely outlined. Through it all he 
 heard the words, "My grace is sufficient for thee." 
 
 He saw Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page going on 
 with their work of service at the Rectangle and reaching 
 out loving hands of helpfulness far beyond the limits of 
 Raymond. Rachel, he saw married to RoUin Page, both 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 279 
 
 fully eousecrated to the Master's use, both following in 
 His steps with an eagerness intensified and purified by their 
 love for each other. And RacheVs voice sang on in the 
 slums and darli places o€ despair and sin, and drew lost 
 souls back to God and heaven once more. 
 
 He saw President Marsh of the coiiege, using his great 
 learning and his great influence to purify the city, to enno- 
 ble its patriotism, to inspire the young men and women who 
 loved as well as admired him to live lives of Christian serv- 
 ice, always teaching them that education means great 
 responsibility for the wealc and the ignorant. 
 
 He saw Alexander Powers meeting with sore trials in 
 his family life, with a constant sorrow in the estrangement 
 of wife and f*' ids, but still going his way in all honor, 
 seeing and ,mg in all His strength the Master whom he 
 had obeyed even unto loss of social distinction and wealth. 
 
 He saw^ Milton Wright the merchant, meeting with 
 great reverses; thrown upon the future by a combination 
 of circumstances, with vast business interests involved in 
 ruin through no fault of his own, but coming out of all his 
 reverses with clean Christian honor, to begin and worlc up 
 to a position where he could again be to hundreds of young 
 men an example of what Jesus would be in business. 
 
 He saw Edward Norman, editor of the "News," by 
 means of the money given by Virginia, creating a force in 
 journalism that in time came to be recognized as one of the 
 real factors of the nation, to mold its principles and 
 actually shape its policy, a daily illustration of the might 
 of a Christian press, and the first of a series of such papers 
 begun and carried on by other disciples who had also taken 
 the pledge. 
 
 He saw Jasper Chase, who had denied his Master, grow- 
 
280 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 ing into a cold, cynical, formal life, writing novels that 
 were social successes but each one with a sting in it, 
 the reminder of his denial, the* bitter remorse that, do what 
 he would, no social success could remove. 
 
 He saw Rose Sterling, dependent for some years upon 
 her aunt and Felicia, finally married to a man far older 
 than herself, accepting the burden of a relation that had 
 no love in it on her part, because of her desire to be the 
 wife of a rich man and enjoy the physical luxuries that 
 were all of life to her. Over this life also the vision cast 
 certain dark and awful shadows, but they were not shown 
 to him in detail. 
 
 He saw Felicia and Stephen Clyde happily married, 
 living a beautiful life together, enthusiastic, joyful in suffer- 
 ing, pouring out their great, strong, fragrant service into 
 the dull, dark, terrible places of the great city and redeem- 
 ing souls through the personal toucli of their iiome dedi- 
 cated to the human homesickness all about them. 
 
 He saw Dr. Bruce and the Bishop going on with the 
 Settlement work. He seemed to see the great blazing 
 motto over the door enlarged, "What would Jesus do?" 
 And the daily answer to that question was redeeming the 
 city in its greatest need. 
 
 He saw Burns and his companion and a great company 
 of men like them, redeemed and going in turn to others, 
 conquering their passions by the divine grace, and proving 
 by their daily lives the reality of the new birth, even in the 
 lowest and most abandoned. 
 
 And now the vision was troubled. It seemed to him 
 that as he kneeled he began to pray, and the vision was 
 more of a longing for a future than a reality in the future. 
 The church of Jesus in the city and throughout the coun- 
 
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" 281 
 
 try! Would it follow Jesus? Was the movement begun in 
 Raymond to spend itself in a few churches like Nazareth 
 Avenue and the one where he had preached to-day, and 
 then die away as a local movement, a stirring on the sur- 
 face, but not to extend deep and far? Ae felt with agony 
 after the vision again. He thought he saw the church of Je- 
 sus in America open its heart to the moving of the Spirit and 
 rise to the sacrifice of its ease and self-satisfaction, in the 
 name of Jesus. He thought he saw the motto, "What would 
 Jesus do?" inscribed over every church door, and written on 
 every church member's heart. The vision vanished. It came 
 back clearer than before and he saw the Endeavor Societies 
 all over the world, carrying in their great processions at some 
 mighty convention a banner on which was inscribed, "What 
 would Jesus do?" And he thought, in the faces of the 
 young men and women, he saw future joy of suffering, 
 loss, self-denial, martyrdom. And when this part of the 
 vision slowly faded, he saw the figure of the Son of God 
 beckoning to him and to all the other actors in his life 
 history. An angel choir somewhere was singing. There 
 was a sound as of many voices and a shout as of a great 
 victory. And the figure of Jesus grew more and more splen- 
 did. He stood at the end of a long flight of steps. "Yesl 
 Yeo! O my Master, has not the time come for this dawn 
 of the millennium of Christian history? Oh, break upon 
 the Christendom of this age with the light and the truth! 
 Help us to follow Thee all the way!" 
 
 He rose at last with the awe of one who has looked at 
 heavenly things. He felt the human forces and the human 
 sins of the world as never before. And with a hope that 
 walks hand in hand with faith and love, Henry Maxwell, 
 disciple of Jesus, laid him down to sleep, ana dreamed of 
 
282 IN HIS STEPS. 
 
 the regeneration of Christendom and saw in his dream a 
 church of Jesus "without spot or wrinlile or any such 
 thing", following Him all the way, walking obediently in 
 His Steps. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 In His Steps, by Rev. C. M. Sheldon. 
 
 In paper covers 25 cents. In cloth 75 cents. Postpaid. 
 
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other Books by Chas. M. Sheldon. 
 
 Crucifixion of Pliilip Strong:, - 
 
 Rictiard Bruce, Illustrated, 
 
 Robert Hardy*s Seven Days, - 
 
 The Twentietli Door, Illustrated, 
 
 His Brotlier*s Keeper, Illustrated, 
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