HENRY, Florence’s cousin, not quite sixteen years old, unknown to me before we formed the club. In his second high school year. A young student, dark, slim, shy, with much to say, but not yet able to say it well. He is rather dogmatic, but open to influence, a born seeker. Often appearing at first to be slow, or commonplace, he suddenly reveals unexpected understanding and originality. He comes from a conventional home. MARIAN, Florence’s friend, also unknown to me before the club. Fifteen and a half years old. In her fourth—last—high school year, preparing for college. A light brunette of a languid and yet intellectual type. Very intuitive, of quick insight, sympathetic, a lover of human nature, shy and quiet. A dreamer and a hero-worshiper. She expresses herself well, but often in broken sentences and with hesitation. Her parents belong to the Ethical Culture Society, and have given her no religious education. RUTH, Marian’s chum, sixteen years old, is also in her last high school year, preparing to study kindergarten. A slight, blonde girl, tall, and with her character written in her face: self-possessed, poise, idealism. Her voice, enunciation and language are those of one trained to speak well. Her thought is unusually developed, but along rather narrow lines. She loves children, and has chosen her work with an idealistic devotion. Her mother is Christian, her father Jewish, and their religion is Christian Science. She is a convinced Christian Scientist. FIRST MEETING When we were all gathered about the table at three o’clock, I opened the discussion thus: “Do you remember that I told you we were going to speak to-day of the fact that there is almost no religion at present, and the cause for this? Now, are we all agreed that there is very little religion—true religious belief—at present?” All agreed to this except Henry. He said that he thought people were as religious as ever. “I think,” said Florence to Henry, “that you are confusing religion and creed. People belong to churches and temples, and think they are religious, but they don’t know what they believe.” I saw Henry was not convinced, so I said to him: “I think perhaps we do not mean the same thing by religion, therefore we might as well go on, and speak of it later, when we do understand. “Now, I believe there is a definite historic reason for our religious lack, and I will tell it to you.”