"Yes," I repeated, "that's works, but of a kind only possible when accompanied by intuitive living faith, which I have just endeavoured to describe. There is a promise that 'greater works than these shall they do' who 'believe.' Why, I want to know, have these 'works,' greater than any that were then accomplished, and which would reform the world, never been attempted? Because people don't believe in the tremendous power of disinterestedness, and they can't face the severe training which the perfection of self-sacrifice involves. So one set of 'worldly-holies' regard all personal discipline as a tempting snare to be avoided, and entertain a great horror of what they conceitedly term 'their own merits.' This very superfluous sentiment, combined with a selfish belief in certain doctrinals (of which they usually do make a merit), is enough, they imagine--the 'works' will follow; and so they do, and take the form we have just seen in your mother's drawing-room. Another set delight in a mild æsthetic sort of training, to be performed in a particular costume, according to the obsolete ceremonial rules of a Church 'which is divided against itself,' and their works take the fatuous form of ecclesiastical high art. Others, again, go to a still further extreme, and consider discipline not the means but the end. Hence they go through their drill in seclusion, exclusively for their own benefit, and their works take the form of scourgings and horse-hair shirts, and other mortifications of the flesh, which do no good to themselves nor to anybody else. And then, in strong contrast, are those who train enough in all conscience with 'gloves,' single-stick, sculls, and all suchlike appliances, and whose works take the form of tubbing, volunteering, and a general jovial philanthropy. I am not sure that they are not the most hopeful set after all; they believe in severe muscular training as necessary to produce great physical results. Get them to accept, the possibility of the world's regeneration by a divinely-directed effort of heroic spiritual discipline on the part of its inhabitants, and you might convert them from 'physical' into 'moral force' Christians. They understand the efficacy of 'a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together;' and they might be shown that the real place for a 'biceps' is the will, not the arms; and instead of a body 'as hard as nails,' the chief aim of one's life should be to bring one's spirit to that condition--'hard,' be it understood, in the sense of being impervious to the influences which weaken and demoralise it--hard in its resistance to the tyranny of society, to the claims of family or friends, and to the force of 'natural' ties, where any of these things interfere with the 'spiritual' training. It is only by thus remaining in the world, and yet refusing to concede a jot to it upon any pretence, however plausible, that it is possible to acquire the internal