The Broad Church, I think, will never be based on anything that requires the use of language.  Freemasonry gives an idea of such a church, and a brother is known and cared for in a strange land where no word of his can be understood.  The apostle of this church may be a deaf mute carrying a cup of cold water to a thirsting fellow-creature.  The cup of cold water does not require to be translated for a foreigner to understand it.  I am afraid the only Broad Church possible is one that has its creed in the heart, and not in the head,—­that we shall know its members by their fruits, and not by their words.  If you say this communion of well-doers is no church, I can only answer, that all organized bodies have their limits of size, and that when we find a man a hundred feet high and thirty feet broad across the shoulders, we will look out for an organization that shall include all Christendom.

Some of us do practically recognize a Broad Church and a Narrow Church, however.  The Narrow Church may be seen in the ship’s boats of humanity, in the long boat, in the jolly boat, in the captain’s gig, lying off the poor old vessel, thanking God that they are safe, and reckoning how soon the hulk containing the mass of their fellow-creatures will go down.  The Broad Church is on board, working hard at the pumps, and very slow to believe that the ship will be swallowed up with so many poor people in it, fastened down under the hatches ever since it floated.

—­All this, of course, was nothing but my poor notion about these matters.  I am simply an “outsider,” you know; only it doesn’t do very well for a nest of Hingham boxes to talk too much about outsiders and insiders!

After this talk of ours, I think these two young people went pretty regularly to the Church of the Galileans.  Still they could not keep away from the sweet harmonies and rhythmic litanies of Saint Polycarp on the great Church festival-days; so that, between the two, they were so much together, that the boarders began to make remarks, and our landlady said to me, one day, that, though it was noon of her business, them that had eyes couldn’t help seein’ that there was somethin’ goin’, on between them two young people; she thought the young man was a very likely young man, though jest what his prospecs was was unbeknown to her; but she thought he must be doing well, and rather guessed he would be able to take care of a femily, if he didn’t go to takin’ a house; for a gentleman and his wife could board a great deal cheaper than they could keep house;—­but then that girl was nothin’ but a child, and wouldn’t think of bein’ married this five year.  They was good boarders, both of ’em, paid regular, and was as pooty a couple as she ever laid eyes on.

—­To come back to what I began to speak of before,—­the divinity-student was exercised in his mind about the Little Gentleman, and, in the kindness of his heart,—­for he was a good young man,—­and in the strength of his convictions,—­for he took it for granted that he and his crowd were right, and other folks and their crowd were wrong,—­he determined to bring the Little Gentleman round to his faith before he died, if he could.  So he sent word to the sick man, that he should be pleased to visit him and have some conversation with him; and received for answer that he would be welcome.