You will note how, when he got on his own ground of personal experience, his confidence increased and his hesitations ceased. Illogical as it all sounds when it is put down in "cold" type, I could not but admire the man's courage in sticking to his guns. And I suspect he had laid hold of a great truth which he could not quite swing--as who could?--and shall watch this case with new interest to see if public opinion (which somehow we dissociate from the influence of God's Spirit) does not compel the court to do justice in spite of all. I suppose there must have been a sermon, but I cannot remember anything about it. I had enough to think of in meditating on the notice! I wonder how often this is the case! On returning to the hotel I went into the smoking-room for a final pipe. There were three other men there, evidently "gentry"--you know the type and also the oppressive silence of such places. One would have supposed that no one of them had ever seen the other! For a long time no one spoke. Finally one of them said: "That was an extraordinary remark of the parson's this morning, asking the congregation to ask in their prayers that the French judges might be led to a right judgment, when many of us knew they had already rendered their decision!" The silence which followed was so long that I thought the others did not wish to be drawn into a discussion on such a subject. But I was mistaken. One of them, when he "got good and ready," as they used to say in the part of the country I know best, expressed himself as follows: "It was worse than futile, it was highly improper. I felt incensed! I should never dream of praying for the damned scoundrels--I should consider it almost blasphemous." Another long silence, and then he continued: "Moreover, I resent any attempt on the part of a parson to dictate to me what I should or should not pray for. I consider such things entirely private between me and my Maker. His advice was an infringement of personal liberty, and I highly resent it." As no one spoke for a little space, I had time to rejoice in this exhibition of sturdy Protestant independence, but finally the silent member of the party spoke: "I am thankful to say," he remarked, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, "that I was not present. My wife told me about it, and I said to her: 'My dear, this only illustrates what I have said more than once, that the clergy never intrude into politics without making damn fools of themselves.'" I fled and sought for Ruth! At length I found her sitting in the drawing-room with three ladies--probably the wives of the smokers. She did not see me, and this is what I heard: _First Lady_: "Do you mean to say you _like_ to live in America?" _Ruth_: "Yes, very much." _First Lady_: "But do you not have a great deal of lynching there?" _Ruth_ (_confusedly_): "I am sorry to say we do have a good deal." _Second Lady_: "What is lynching?"