and where they live.  I was obliged to answer her.  One of her questions last night touched my sore!  ’Do you own any houses where these poor people live?  Are they nice and warm like ours?’ You know how a child will ask questions like these.  I went to bed tormented with what I now know to be the divine arrows of conscience.  I could not sleep.  I seemed to see the judgment day.  I was placed before the Judge.  I was asked to give an account of my deeds done in the body.  ’How many sinful souls had I visited in prison?  What had I done with my stewardship?  How about those tenements where people froze in winter and stifled in summer?  Did I give any thought to them except to receive the rentals from them?  Where did my suffering come in?  Would Jesus have done as I had done and was doing?  Had I broken my pledge?  How had I used the money and the culture and the social influence I possessed?  Had I used it to bless humanity, to relieve the suffering, to bring joy to the distressed and hope to the desponding?  I had received much.  How much had I given?’

“All this came to me in a waking vision as distinctly as I see you two men and myself now.  I was unable to see the end of the vision.  I had a confused picture in my mind of the suffering Christ pointing a condemning finger at me, and the rest was shut out by mist and darkness.  I have not slept for twenty-four hours.  The first thing I saw this morning was the account of the shooting at the coal yards.  I read the account with a feeling of horror I have not been able to shake off.  I am a guilty creature before God.”

Penrose paused suddenly.  The two men looked at him solemnly.  What power of the Holy Spirit moved the soul of this hitherto self-satisfied, elegant, cultured man who belonged to the social life that was accustomed to go its way placidly, unmindful of the great sorrows of a great city and practically ignorant of what it means to suffer for Jesus’ sake?  Into that room came a breath such as before swept over Henry Maxwell’s church and through Nazareth avenue.  The Bishop laid his hand on the shoulder of Penrose and said:  “My brother, God has been very near to you.  Let us thank Him.”

“Yes! yes!” sobbed Penrose.  He sat down on a chair and covered his face.  The Bishop prayed.  Then Penrose quietly said:  “Will you go with me to that house?”

For answer the two men put on their overcoats and went with him to the home of the dead man’s family.

That was the beginning of a new and strange life for Clarence Penrose.  From the moment he stepped into that wretched hovel of a home and faced for the first time in his life a despair and suffering such as he had read of but did not know by personal contact, he dated a new life.  It would be another long story to tell how, in obedience to his pledge he began to do with his tenement property as he knew Jesus would do.  What would Jesus do with tenement property if He owned it in Chicago or any other great city of the world?  Any man who can imagine any true answers to this question can easily tell what Clarence Penrose began to do.