wasn't on the tree. It was Brownson--a Presbyterian like myself--who
did the business. You don't know him? Pity! He's worth knowing. I
got to reading him, and he made it so plain that I had to drop. I
didn't want to, either--but here I am. Now, Mr. Griffin, how did you
happen to go the other way?"

"I didn't go--that is, not deliberately. I just drifted. Mother died,
and father didn't care, in fact rather opposed; so I just didn't last.
Later on, I studied the church and I could not see."

"Studied the church? You mean the Catholic Church?" Father Murray's
mouth hid the ghost of a smile.

"No, it wasn't the Catholic Church in particular. When we worldlings
say 'the church,' we mean religion in general, perhaps all Christianity
in general and all Christians in particular."

"I know." The priest's voice held a touch of sorrow now. "I hope you
will pardon me, Mr. Griffin, if I say one thing that may sound
controversial--it's just an observation. I have noticed the tendency
you speak of; but isn't it strange that when people go looking into the
question of religion they can deliberately close their eyes to a 'City
set upon a Mountain'?"

"I don't quite--"

"Get me?" Father Murray laughed. "I know that you wanted to use that
particular expressive bit of our particularly expressive slang. What I
mean is this: People study religion nowadays--that is, English-speaking
people--with the Catholic Church left out. Yet she claims the