"There is a rock in every garden, Dan. Religion grows always about the unknowable. But Denny's ministry has naught to do with the rock, it has to do with the growing things about it. So religion is in the knowable things not in the unknowable; there such men as you, lad, must find it. And the rock, boy, was not put in the garden by men. It belongs to the earth itself." While the Doctor was speaking his eyes had been fixed on the crippled boy in the garden. He turned now, for the first time, to face the young man by his side. Dan's eyes had that wide, questioning look. The old physician moved to the other window. "Now come, see what men have done." He pointed to the cast-iron monument. "These people will tell you that was erected to commemorate the life of my friend. His was a warm, tender, loving spirit--a great, ever-growing soul. What can that hard, cold, immovable mass tell of him? How can that thing--perpetuating an issue that belongs to a past age, that has nothing to do with the life of today--how can that thing speak of the great heart that loved and gave itself always to men? "Through my glasses that is the church! How can an institution, or a system of theological beliefs--with cast-iron prejudices, cast-iron fidelity to issues long past and forgotten, cast-iron unconcern of vital issues of the life of today and cast-iron want of sympathy with the living who toil and fight and die on every side--how can such speak the great loving, sympathetic, helpful spirit of Him whose name only it bears, as that bears only the name of my friend? "But would the people of this town, out of love for my dead friend, tear down that monument if Denny should leave his garden to argue with them about it? Why, they would tell him that it is because of their love for the statesman that they keep it there and they believe it--and it is true. Well, then, let them keep their monument and let Denny work in his garden! And don't you see, Dan, that the very ones who fight for the cast-iron monument must depend at last for their lives and strength upon the things that Denny grows in his garden. Now boy, that's the first and only time I ever preached." CHAPTER XLI THE FINAL WORD "'This closes my ministry as you understand it. It by no means closes my ministry as I have come to understand it.'" Dan's farewell sermon was to be given in the evening. John Gardner, who--true to the promise he had made when he challenged the minister, after that sermon on "Fellowship of Service"--had become a regular attendant, was present in the morning. In the afternoon the farmer called on Dan in his study. "Look here, Dan," he said. "You are making the mistake of your life." "You're wrong, John. I made that mistake nearly two years ago," he answered. "I mean in leaving Corinth as you are leaving it." "And I mean in coming to Corinth as I came to it." "But wait a minute; let me tell you! You have done a lot of good in this town; you don't know--."