"I've often heard," said Mr. Jodderel, "that so an Episcopalian admits the authority and divine origin of his Church, he can believe anything he pleases, and the address we have just listened to convinces me that the statement is true. Why, gentlemen, while nobody has a higher respect for Judge Cottaway's character and attainments than I have, it seems to me that he isn't much different from a Unitarian or any other freethinker that imagines he has some hold upon religion. Why, gentlemen, what's the good of Christ having lived and died at all, if we're still in bondage under the law? I don't mean that we're not to do right when we can--I want to do right as much as any man ever did--but if I've got to be bothered about all the little points that the Scribes and Pharisees fussed over, I don't see how much better off I am than they were." "The gentleman is better off, as he expresses it," said the Judge, "because he has the benefit of the clearer light which Christ shed upon the law, and because through the life and death of Christ he has incentives to that love for the Source of all goodness which enables a man to overcome difficulties which, to the merely selfish moralist, are utterly insurmountable. It is thus that love becomes the fulfillment of the law, for it enables the weakest man to overcome his worst inclinations." "What becomes, then, of the doctrine of justification by faith--the corner-stone of all Protestantism?" asked President Lottson. "It remains as strong as ever," answered the Judge. "All are forgiven, our misdeeds committed in ignorance, when--mark the condition--when we are honest in intention and effort. 'The just'--the righteous, that is, those who do right to the best of their knowledge--'shall live by faith.' I would remind the gentleman that Christian theology, of every school, is based principally upon the principles laid down by that masterly jurist, the Apostle Paul, and that he makes of faith not the master but the subordinate of love. 'And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.'" "You can't go back on Paul," remarked Squire Woodhouse, "but it's often seemed to me that religious people treat Paul a great deal as the boys treat my orchard; they steal the apples they like the looks of best, but the best I've got are really the least handsome, and I generally have the full crop to myself." Some one reminded the Leader that it was one o'clock, and the class arose.