"No, Mawley," replied the vicar, "since I have had the living, I have never yet permitted sectarian disputations to have a place in my pulpit; and, never will I do so as long as I live! We were instructed to preach the Gospel by our Saviour, not to wage war against this or that creed; and the Gospel is one of peace and love. Don't you remember how Saint John, when he was upwards of fourscore years, continually taught this by his constant text, `Little children, love one another?' Let us allow men to judge us by our works. The labour of Protestantism will not be accomplished by the pharisaical mode of priding ourselves on our faith, and damning that of every one else! Our mission is to preach the Gospel pure and simple. Too much time, too much money, too much of true religion is wasted, in our common custom of trying to proselytise others! We should look at home first, Mawley." "Still, sir," said the curate, "it is surely our mission to convert the heathen?" "I do not argue against that," said the vicar. "God forbid that I should! But what I say is, that we are too apt, in seeking for foreign fields, to neglect the duty that lies nearer to us at home." "It is a noble work, converting the heathen, though," said Miss Spight. "That's just what I mean," responded our pastor. "All young minds are impressed with this romantic view of religion. It appears much nobler to go abroad as a missionary to the burning deserts of Africa, and to run the risk of being eaten up by cannibals, to working in this benighted land of ours, which needs conversion just as much as the negroes and Hindoos! But, there's no romance about visiting dirty alleys in London!" "There are the Scripture readers and district visitors, are there not?" said Mr Mawley. "True," replied the vicar, "and I would be the last to disparage their earnest efforts. What I meant was, that, while we give hundreds of pounds to foreign missions, pence are grudged for home work! There's the Society for the Conversion of the Jews, for instance, to which I have sometimes to give up my pulpit. Now, I dare say, it is a very meritorious society, but how many Jews does it gain over really to Christianity in return for the large sums that its travelling secretaries collect every year?" "These travelling secretaries," said I, "are what the _Saturday Review_ would call `spiritual bagmen,' or `commercial travellers in the missionary line.'"