“Because you are a clergyman, Mr. Hodder,” he began, “because you are the rector of St. John’s, I have allowed you to say things to me which I would not have permitted from any other man.  I have tried to take into account your point of view, which is naturally restricted, your pardonable ignorance of what business men, who wish to do their duty by Church and State, have to contend with.  When you came to this parish you seemed to have a sensible, a proportional view of things; you were content to confine your activities to your own sphere, content not to meddle with politics and business, which you could, at first hand, know nothing about.  The modern desire of clergymen to interfere in these matters has ruined the usefulness of many of them.

“I repeat, I have tried to be patient.  I venture to hope, still, that this extraordinary change in you may not be permanent, but merely the result of a natural sympathy with the weak and unwise and unfortunate who are always to be found in a complex civilization.  I can even conceive how such a discovery must have shocked you, temporarily aroused your indignation, as a clergyman, against the world as it is—­and, I may add, as it has always been.  My personal friendship for you, and my interest in your future welfare impel me to make a final appeal to you not to ruin a career which is full of promise.”

The rector did not take advantage of the pause.  A purely psychological curiosity hypnotized him to see how far the banker would go in his apparent generosity.

“I once heard you say, I believe, in a sermon, that the Christian religion is a leaven.  It is the leaven that softens and ameliorates the hard conditions of life, that makes our relations with our fellow-men bearable.  But life is a contest, it is war.  It always has been, and always will be.  Business is war, commerce is war, both among nations and individuals.  You cannot get around it.  If a man does not exterminate his rivals they will exterminate him.  In other days churches were built and endowed with the spoils of war, and did not disdain the money.  To-day they cheerfully accept the support and gifts of business men.  I do not accuse them of hypocrisy.  It is a recognition on their part that business men, in spite of hard facts, are not unmindful of the spiritual side of life, and are not deaf to the injunction to help others.  And when, let me ask you, could you find in the world’s history more splendid charities than are around us to-day?  Institutions endowed for medical research, for the conquest of deadly diseases? libraries, hospitals, schools—­men giving their fortunes for these things, the fruits of a life’s work so laboriously acquired?  Who can say that the modern capitalist is not liberal, is not a public benefactor?