“That is quite likely,” said he.  “But the methods of the missionaries, generally speaking, have not tended in that direction.  Hence the missionary as a comestible is more highly esteemed by the natives than the missionary as a reformer.  They rarely understand the natives themselves, and they nearly always fail to make themselves intelligible to the natives.  It would appear that the two foolish persons who wrote that letter about Mr. Courtland made but a poor attempt at understanding even their own countrymen, if they fancied that any rumor of a massacre of cannibals—­nay, any proof of such a massacre—­would have an appreciable effect upon the popularity of the man who brought home the meteor-bird.”

“You don’t think that the public generally would believe the story?” said Phyllis.

“I think it extremely unlikely that they would believe it,” he replied.  “But even if they believed every word of it they would not cease to believe in Mr. Courtland’s bravery.  What is a hecatomb of cannibals compared to the discovery of the meteor-bird,—­that is, in the eyes of the general public, or for that matter, the Nonconformist public who turn up their eyes at the suggestion of a massacre of natives of an island that is almost as unknown to them as Ireland itself?  The people of this country of ours respect bravery more than any other virtue, and I’m not altogether sure that they are generally astray in this matter.  The Christian faith is founded upon bravery, and the same faith has inspired countless acts of brave men and women.  Oh, no!  Mr. Courtland will not suffer from the attacks of these foolish persons.”

“I saw him this—­a short time ago,” said Phyllis, “and he told me that his publishers were delighted at the result of the agitation which that newspaper tried to get up against him:  they said it was selling his book.”

“I saw you talking with Mr. Courtland after the first production of ‘Cagliostro.’  I envied you—­and him,” said Mr. Holland.  “I wonder if he was really placed in the unfortunate position of having to massacre a horde of cannibals.”

Phyllis laughed, and forthwith told him the truth as it had been communicated to her regarding the dynamite outrage upon the unsuspecting natives, and George Holland was greatly amused at the story—­much more highly amused, it would have occurred to some persons, than a clergyman should be at such a recital.  But then George Holland was not as other clergymen.  He was quite devoid of the affectations of his cloth.  He did not consider it necessary to put the tips of his fingers together and show more of the white portion of the pupil of his eye than a straight-forward gaze entailed, when people talked of the overflowing of a river in China and the consequent drowning of a quarter of a million of men—­that is to say, Chinamen.  He was no more affected by such tidings than the Emperor of China.  He was infinitely more affected when he read of the cold-blooded massacre by David, sometime