I stood for some time listening to him while he proved with excellent
logic, basing his reasoning on many learned authorities, that there was
no God. His audience cheered with glee his clever hits, and held up
their hands for the books he had for sale.

"Who is this speaker?" I asked the elbowing helper who came through the
crowd to deliver the speaker's wares and collect the silver for them.
"Who is this speaker who says there is no God?"

"Henry Moore," he responded.

"And who," I asked, "is Henry Moore?"

"He is an Englishman and was brought up a Presbyterian--but he seen the
light."

"And no longer thinks there is any God?"

"Nope."

"And these books prove the same thing?"

"Yep."

So I bought one of them, thinking it wonderful that proof of so
momentous a conclusion could be had for so small a sum.

This Henry Moore could fling arguments like thunderbolts; he could
marshall his authorities like an army; he could talk against the roar of
the city and keep his restless audience about him; and if he did not