The rest of this earth was provincial, tributary soil. He had gone
abroad, but rarely ventured beyond Philadelphia or Coney Island on
this side. He was the presiding officer of the Stock Exchange and
the President of the Metropolitan Bible and Tract Society. He took
himself very seriously.

As they got out of the car at Long Island City, Gordon said to him:

"Deacon, I wish to have a talk with you tomorrow. Shall I call at
your home or office?"

"Come down to the office at two o'clock; I'll be out at night,"
Van Meter answered briskly.

The next day Gordon walked from the church down Fourth Avenue to
Union Square and down Broadway to the Battery. It was a glorious day
in early spring. The air had in it yet the cool breath of winter,
but the electric thrill of coming life was in the soft breezes
that came from the South, where flowers were already blooming and
birds singing. The hucksters were selling sweet violets and the
cry of the strawberry man echoed along the side streets.

Fourth Avenue was piled with builders' material. The old brick
homes were crumbling and steel-ribbed monsters climbing into the
sky from their sites.

"Progress everywhere but in the churches," muttered Gordon. "The
Church alone seems dead in New York."

Broadway was one vast river of humanity. As far as the eye could