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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1912 edition. Excerpt: ...place?" "Filial devotion." "Exactly. I remember. But you chose another pattern, sloughed off the work-horse collar of Calvinism in favour of the lighter ritualistic bridle, if I may speak picturesquely. You made your choice. Now what's the matter? Hitched up too short; or have you kicked over the traces?" "No; not yet." Brenton spoke grimly, his overcast gray eyes offering a curious contrast to the sunny brown ones of the man lying flat and still before him. This time, Reed looked anxious. "I wouldn't, Scott," he said, and a little note of affection came into his tone. "You 'l1 sure be sorry." "But, if I can't help it?" "You can." Reed spoke crisply. "I can't. The whole thing is galling me, I tell you, the whole--" Brenton hesitated; "infernal sham." The last two words he flung out with a heavy defiance. "Sham is n't a polite word for that sort of thing," Opdyke answered swiftly. "You 're the parson, Brenton; I am nothing but a sinner cut down in my prime. Still, in your place, I think I would n't call it all a sham. There 's too much good inside it. When one has all the time there is, one thinks it out, good and bad, to the bitter end. And there's any amount more good than bad in the whole combination." Brenton nodded; but the nod implied more denial than assent. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "Still, it's any amount less provable." "Proof be hanged! You 'll never succeed in reducing the moral universe to a set of molecular equations, Brenton. Best give it up, and take what's left in the most thankful spirit that you can, not let the unprovable part of it get on your nerves like this." Brenton chewed the end of his cigar, as if it had been the cud of his spiritual discontent. "But, by my profession, I am here to preach the truth," he burst out at...
