however；　were　for　annihilating　it：　although　they　took　the　other　side　of
  the　discussion　of　a　subject　of　which　none　of　us　knew　anything；　their
  attacks　were　but　half…hearted；　like　me；　they　were　still　under　the　spell
  exerted　by　a　youthful　training。
  We　were　all　of　us　aware　of　Ralph；　who　sat　at　some　distance　looking　over
  the　pages　of　an　English　sporting　weekly。　　Presently　he　flung　it　down。
  〃Haven't　you　found　out　yet　that　man　created　God；　Hughie？〃　he　inquired。
  〃And　even　if　there　were　a　personal　God；　what　reason　have　you　to　think
  that　man　would　be　his　especial　concern；　or　any　concern　of　his　whatever？
  The　discovery　of　evolution　has　knocked　your　Christianity　into　a　cocked
  hat。〃
  I　don't　remember　how　I　answered　him。　　In　spite　of　the　superficiality　of
  his　own　arguments；　which　I　was　not　learned　enough　to　detect；　I　was
  ingloriously　routed。　　Darwin　had　kicked　over　the　bucket；　and　that　was　all
  there　was　to　it。。。。　　After　we　had　left　the　club　both　Conybear　and　Laurens
  admitted　they　were　somewhat　disturbed；　declaring　that　Ralph　had　gone　too
  far。　　I　spent　a　miserable　night；　recalling　the　naturalistic　assertions　he
  had　made　so　glibly；　asking　myself　again　and　again　how　it　was　that　the
  religion　to　which　I　so　vainly　clung　had　no　greater　effect　on　my　actions
  and　on　my　will；　had　not　prevented　me　from　lapses　into　degradation。　　And　I
  hated　myself　for　having　argued　upon　a　subject　that　was　still　sacred。　　I
  believed　in　Christ；　which　is　to　say　that　I　believed　that　in　some
  inscrutable　manner　he　existed；　continued　to　dominate　the　world　and　had
  suffered　on　my　account。
  To　whom　should　I　go　now　for　a　confirmation　of　my　wavering　beliefs？　　One
  of　the　resultsit　will　be　remembered　of　religion　as　I　was　taught　it　was
  a　pernicious　shyness；　and　even　though　I　had　found　a　mentor　and　confessor；
  I　might　have　hesitated　to　unburden　myself。　　This　would　be　different　from
  arguing　with　Ralph　Hambleton。　　In　my　predicament；　as　I　was　wandering
  through　the　yard；　I　came　across　a　notice　of　an　evening　talk　to　students
  in　Holder　Chapel；　by　a　clergyman　named　Phillips　Brooks。　　This　was　before
  the　time；　let　me　say　in　passing；　when　his　sermons　at　Harvard　were
  attended　by　crowds　of　undergraduates。　　Well；　I　stood　staring　at　the
  notice；　debating　whether　I　should　go；　trying　to　screw　up　my　courage；　for
  I　recognized　clearly　that　such　a　step；　if　it　were　to　be　of　any　value；
  must　mean　a　distinct　departure　from　my　present　mode　of　life；　and　I　recall
  thinking　with　a　certain　revulsion　that　I　should　have　to　〃turn　good。〃　　My
  presence　at　the　meeting　would　be　known　the　next　day　to　all　my　friends；
  for　the　idea　of　attending　a　religious　gathering　when　one　was　not　forced
  to　do　so　by　the　authorities　was　unheard　of　in　our　set。　　I　should　be
  classed　with　the　despised　〃pious　ones〃　who　did　such　things　regularly。　　I
  shrank　from　the　ridicule。　　I　had；　however；　heard　of　Mr。　Brooks　from　Ned
  Symonds；　who　was　by　no　means　of　the　pious　type；　and　whose　parents
  attended　Mr。　Brooks's　church　in　Boston。。。。　　I　left　my　decision　in
  abeyance。　　But　when　evening　came　I　stole　away　from　the　club　table；　on　the
  plea　of　an　engagement；　and　made　my　way　rapidly　toward　Holder　Chapel。　　I
  had　almost　reached　itwhen　I　caught　a　glimpse　of　Symonds　and　of　some
  others　approaching；and　I　went　on；　to　turn　again。　　By　this　time　the
  meeting；　which　was　in　a　room　on　the　second　floor；　had　already　begun。
  Palpitating；　I　climbed　the　steps；　the　door　of　the　room　was　slightly　ajar；
  I　looked　in；　I　recall　a　distinct　sensation　of　surprise；the　atmosphere
  of　that　meeting　was　so　different　from　what　I　had　expected。　　Not　a　〃pious〃
  atmosphere　at　all！　　I　saw　a　very　tall　and　heavy　gentleman；　dressed　in
  black；　who　sat；　wholly　at　ease；　on　the　table！　　One　hand　was　in　his
  pocket；　one　foot　swung　clear　of　the　ground；　and　he　was　not　preaching；　but
  talking　in　an　easy；　conversational　tone　to　some　forty　young　men　who　sat
  intent　on　his　words。　　I　was　too　excited　to　listen　to　what　he　was　saying；
  I　was　making　a　vain　attempt　to　classify　him。　　But　I　remember　the　thought；
  for　it　struck　me　with　force；that　if　Christianity　were　so　thoroughly
  discredited　by　evolution；　as　Ralph　Hambleton　and　other　agnostics　would
  have　one　believe；　why　should　this　remarkably　sane　and　able…looking　person
  be　standing　up　for　it　as　though　it　were　still　an　established　and
  incontrovertible　fact？
  He　had　not；　certainly；　the　air　of　a　dupe　or　a　sentimentalist；　but
  inspired　confidence　by　his　very　personality。　　Youthlike；　I　watched　him
  narrowly　for　flaws；　for　oratorical　tricks；　for　all　kinds　of　histrionic
  symptoms。　　Again　I　was　near　the　secret；　again　it　escaped　me。　　The
  argument　for　Christianity　lay　not　in　assertions　about　it；　but　in　being
  it。　　This　man　was　Christianity。。。。　　I　must　have　felt　something　of　this；
  even　though　I　failed　to　formulate　it。　　And　unconsciously　I　contrasted　his
  strength；　which　reinforced　the　atmosphere　of　the　room；　with　that　of　Ralph
  Hambleton；　who　was；　a　greater　influence　over　me　than　I　have　recorded；　and
  had　come　to　sway　me　more　and　more；　as　he　had　swayed　others。　　The　strength
  of　each　was　impressive；　yet　this　Mr。　Brooks　seemed　to　me　the　bodily
  presentment　of　a　set　of　values　which　I　would　have　kept　constantly　before
  my　eyes。。。。　　I　felt　him　drawing　me；　overcoming　my　hesitation；　belittling
  my　fear　of　ridicule。　　I　began　gently　to　open　the　doorwhen　something
  happened；one　of　those　little　things　that　may　change　the　course　of　a
  life。　　The　door　made　little　noise；　yet　one　of　the　men　sitting　in　the　back
  of　the　room　chanced　to　look　around；　and　I　recognized　Hermann　Krebs。　　His
  face　was　still　sunken　from　his　recent　illness。　　Into　his　eyes　seemed　to
  leap　a　sudden　appeal；　an　appeal　to　which　my　soul　responded　yet　I　hurried
  down　the　stairs　and　into　the　street。　　Instantly　I　regretted　my　retreat；　I
  would　have　gone　back；　but　lacked　the　courage；　and　I　strayed　unhappily　for
  hours；　now　haunted　by　that　look　of　Krebs；　now　wondering　what　the
  remarkably　sane…looking　and　informal　clergyman　whose　presence　dominated
  the　little　room　had　been　talking　about。　　I　never　learned；　but　I　did　live
  to　read　his　biography；　to　discover　what　he　might　have　talked　about；for
  he　if　any　man　believed　that　life　and　religion　are　one；　and　preached
  consecration　to　life's　task。
  Of　little　use　to　speculate　whether　the　message；　had　I　learned　it　then；
  would　have　fortified　and　transformed　me！
  In　spite　of　the　fact　that　I　was　unable　to　relate　to　a　satisfying
  conception　of　religion　my　new…born　determination；　I　made　up　my　mind；　at
  least；　to　renounce　my　tortuous　ways。　　I　had　promised　my　father　to　be　a
  lawyer；　I　would　keep　my　promise；　I　would　give　the　law　a　fair　trial；　later
  on；　perhaps；　I　might　demonstrate　an　ability　to　write。　　All　very
  praiseworthy！　　The　season　was　Lent；　a　fitting　time　for　renunciations　and
  resolves。　　Although　I　had　more　than　once　fallen　from　grace；　I　believed
  myself　at　last　to　have　settled　down　on　my　true　coursewhen　something
  happened。　　The　devil　interfered　subtly；　as　usualnow　in　the　person　of
  Jerry　Kyme。　　It　should　be　said　in　justice　to　Jerry　that　he　did　not　look
  the　part。　　He　had　sunny…red；　curly　hair；　mischievous　blue　eyes　with　long
  lashes；　and　he　harboured　no　respect　whatever　for　any　individual　or
  institution；　sacred　or　profane；　he　possessed；　however；　a　shrewd　sense　of
  his　own　value；　as　many　innocent　and　unsuspecting　souls　discovered　as
  early　as　our　freshman　year；　and　his　method　of　putting　down　the
  presumptuous　was　both　effective　and　unique。　　If　he　liked　you；　there　could
  be　no　mistake　about　it。
  One　evening　when　I　was　engaged　in　composing　a　theme　for　Mr。　Cheyne　on　no
  less　a　subject　than　the　interpretation　of　the　work　of　William　Wordsworth；
  I　found　myself　unexpectedly　sprawling　on　the　floor；　in　my　descent　kicking
  the　table　so　vigorously　as　to　send　the　ink…well　a　foot　or　two　toward　the
  ceiling。　　This；　be　it　known；　was　a　typical　proof　of　Jerry's　esteem。　　For
  he　had　entered　noiselessly；　jerking　the　back　of　my　chair；　which　chanced
  to　be　tilted；　and　stood　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets；　surveying　the　ruin
  he　had　wrought；　watching　the　ink　as　it　trickled　on　the　carpet。　　Then　he
  picked　up　the　book。
  〃Poetry；　you　darned　old　grind！〃　he　exclaimed　disgustedly。　　〃Say；　Parry；　I
  don't　know　what's　got　into　you；　but　I　want　you　to　come　home　with　me　for
  the　Easter　holidays。　　It'll　do　you　good。　　We'll　be　on　the　Hudson；　you
  know；　and　we'll　manage　to　make　life　bearable　somehow。〃
  I　forgot　my　irritation；　in　sheer　surprise。
  〃Why；　that's　mighty　good　of　you；　Jerry〃　I　began；　struggling　to　my　feet。
  〃Oh；　rot！〃　he　exclaimed。　　〃I　shouldn't　ask　you　if　I　didn't　want　you。〃
  There　was　no　denying　the　truth　of　this；　and　after　he　had　gone　I　sat　for　a
  long　time　with　my　pen　in　my　mouth；　reflecting　as　to　whether　or　not　I
  should　go。　　For　I　had　the　instinct　that　here　was　another　cross…roads；
  that　more　depended　on　my　decision　than　I　cared　to　admit。　　But　even　then　I
  knew　what　I　should　do。　　Ridiculous　not　toI　told　myself。　　How　could　a
  week　or　ten　days　with　Jerry　possibly　affect　my　newborn；　resolve？
  Yet　the　prospect；　now；　of　a　visit　to　the　Kymes'　was　by　no　means　so
  glowing　as　it　once　would　have　been。　　For　I　had　seen　visions；　I　had
  dreamed　dreams；　beheld　a　delectable　country　of　my　very　own。　　A　year　ago
  nay；　even　a　month　agohow　such　an　invitation　would　have　gl