American fiction -- 20th century; Divorce -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Rich people -- Fiction
Mr. Prentiss had grown up with the church. That is, he had been curate
to the Rev. Henry Glynn, an Englishman who had selected Benham as a
promising pasture for the propagation of the Episcopal faith beyond the
pale of the mother country, who had gone forth into the wilderness and
had lived to see a goodly flock of sheep browsing beneath his
ministrations. Mr. Glynn was a pioneer, and had gone forth in the
early seventies when Benham was in the throes of rapid progress and
extraordinary development from month to month. His mission had been to
spread the tenets of his sect by the zeal and eloquence of his
testimony, and to provide a suitable edifice for the human souls
attracted by his teachings. In his time the congregation forsook the
small and primitive structure, erected in hot haste within a year of
his arrival, for a commodious and sufficiently æsthetic building.
Before his death, which occurred prematurely, Benham had become a large
and important municipality. His successor found himself not only the
pastor of the leading Episcopal Church of the city--which had also in
the process of social evolution become the most fashionable and
probably the richest church in the city--but a shepherd in a wilderness
of a different sort. In other words, he was brought suddenly face to
face with the problems which confront earnest spirits eager to redeem
human nature in a huge industrial community. The former wilderness had
blossomed, even with the rose, but the thistles, tares, and rank grass
which fought for mastery with the wholesome vegetation had
revolutionized the soil. There were scores of saloons in Benham; there
was a herd of immoral women on the streets of Benham; and, most
perplexing problem of all, perhaps, there were, only a mile apart, the
picturesque neighborhood of the Riverside Drive with its imposing,
princely, private mansions, and Smith Street, boulevard of unwholesome
tenement-houses, garnished with rumshops and squalid lives--contrast
repugnant and disconcerting to American ideals, and to him as an
American.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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