“The act was that of a rash and hot‐headed member of our body. It was contrary to my will, done without my knowledge, and opposed to the teaching of our holy fathers, who have ever dissuaded from such acts. But in all bodies of men there are hot‐heads and impulsive spirits that will not endure control.” “Your own teaching is at fault,” said Æmilius peevishly. “You denounce the gods, and yet express regret if one of you put your doctrine in practice.” “If images were ornaments only,” said the bishop, “then they would be endurable; but when they receive adoration, when libations are poured at their feet, then we forbid our brethren to take part in such homage, for it is idolatry, a giving to wood and stone the worship due to God alone. But we do not approve of insult offered to any man’s religion. No,” said Castor emphatically; “Christianity is not another name for brutality, and that is brutality which insults the religious sentiment of the people, who may be ignorant but are sincere.” They had reached the rope‐walk. The cordwainer was absent. “Let us take a turn,” said the bishop; and then he halted and smiled and extended his palm to a little child that ran up to him and put its hand within his with innocent confidence. “This,” said Castor, “is the son of the timber merchant.” Then to the boy: “Little man, walk with us, but do not interrupt our talk. Speak only when spoken to.” He again addressed the lawyer: “My friend, if I may so call thee, thou art vastly distressed at the mutilation of the image. Why so?” “Because it is a work of art, and that particular statue was the finest example of the sculpture of a native artist. It was a gift to his native town of the god Marcus Antoninus (the Emperor Antoninus Pius).” “Sir,” said Castor, “you are in the right to be incensed. Now tell me this. If the thought of the destruction of a statue made by man and the gift of a Cæsar rouse indignation in your mind, should you not be more moved to see the destruction of living men, as in the shows of the arena—the slaughter of men, the work of God’s hands?” “That is for our entertainment,” said Æmilius, yet with hesitation in his voice. “Does that condone the act of the mutilator of the image, that he did it out of sport, to amuse a few atheists and the vulgar? See you how from his mother’s womb the child has been nurtured, how his limbs have grown in suppleness and grace and strength; how his intelligence has developed, how his faculties have expanded. Who made the babe that has become a man? Who protected him from infancy? Who builds up this little tenement of an immortal and bright spirit?” He led forward and indicated the child of Flavillus. “Was it not God? And for a holiday pastime you send men into the arena to be lacerated by wild beasts or butchered by gladiators! Do you not suppose that God, the maker of man, must be incensed at this wanton destruction of His fairest creation?”