“I was going on to say,” I continued, “that wherever I walk in the city of a Sunday afternoon, I am struck with the number of little meetings going on, of the faithful and the unfaithful, Adventists, socialists, spiritualists, culturists, Sons and Daughters of Edom; from all the open windows of the tall buildings come notes of praying, of exhortation, the melancholy wail of the inspiring Sankey tunes, total abstinence melodies, over-the-river melodies, songs of entreaty, and songs of praise.  There is so much going on outside of the regular churches!”

“But the churches are well attended,” suggested my wife.

“Yes, fairly, at least once a day, and if there is sensational preaching, twice.  But there is nothing that will so pack the biggest hall in the city as the announcement of inspirational preaching by some young woman who speaks at random on a text given her when she steps upon the platform.  There is something in her rhapsody, even when it is incoherent, that appeals to a prevailing spirit."’

“How much of it is curiosity?” Morgan asked.  “Isn’t the hall just as jammed when the clever attorney of Nothingism, Ham Saversoul, jokes about the mysteries of this life and the next?”

“Very likely.  People like the emotional and the amusing.  All the same, they are credulous, and entertain doubt and belief on the slightest evidence.”

“Isn’t it natural,” spoke up Mr. Lyon, who had hitherto been silent, “that you should drift into this condition without an established church?”

“Perhaps it’s natural,” Morgan retorted, “that people dissatisfied with an established religion should drift over here.  Great Britain, you know, is a famous recruiting-ground for our socialistic experiments.”

“Ah, well,” said my wife, “men will have something.  If what is established repels to the extent of getting itself disestablished, and all churches should be broken up, society would somehow precipitate itself again spiritually.  I heard the other day that Boston, getting a little weary of the Vedas, was beginning to take up the New Testament.”

“Yes,” said Morgan, “since Tolstoi mentioned it.”

After a little the talk drifted into psychic research, and got lost in stories of “appearances” and “long-distance” communications.  It appeared to me that intelligent people accepted this sort of story as true on evidence on which they wouldn’t risk five dollars if it were a question of money.  Even scientists swallow tales of prehistoric bones on testimony they would reject if it involved the title to a piece of real estate.

Mr. Lyon still lingered in the lap of a New England winter as if it had been Capua.  He was anxious to visit Washington and study the politics of the country, and see the sort of society produced in the freedom of a republic, where there was no court to give the tone and there were no class lines to determine position.  He was restless under this sense of duty.  The future legislator for the British Empire must understand the Constitution of its great rival, and thus be able to appreciate the social currents that have so much to do with political action.