was rich to become poor. There was room for an apostle--for a thousand
apostles--who, being dead to the world's glory, its money or its calls,
were prepared to do all in Christ's spirit, and to believe that in the
renunciation, which was the "secret" of Jesus, lay the only salvation
remaining for the world.

He tramped through the slums of Melbourne and Sydney, and afterward
through the slums of London, returned to the Isle of Man a Christian
Socialist, and announced to his father his intention of going into the
Church.

The old man did not fume and fly out. He staggered back to his room like
a bullock to its pen after it has had its death-blow in the shambles. In
the midst of his dusty old bureau, with its labelled packets full of
cuttings, he realized that twenty years of his life had been wasted. A
son was a separate being, of a different growth, and a father was only
the seed at the root that must decay and die.

Then he made some show of resistance.

"But with your talents, boy, surely you are not going to throw away your
chances of a great name?"

"I care nothing for a great name, father," said John. "I shall win a
greater victory than any that Parliament can give me."

"But, my boy, my dear boy! one must either be the camel or the
camel-driver; and then society----"

"I hate society, and society would hate me. It is only for the sake of