“Mary, you shall be a missionary among the poor and suffering. I shall build a chapel for the poor, where they may go without money and without price. John Porter, whom I knew and loved in college, shall come and preach to them; and you shall help gather his flock. I shall pay him and you a salary. Will you take the position?” “I cannot take money from you.” “False pride!” replied he. “I shall pay another, if not you.” “Better another than me.” “I know of no one who will do so well as you.” Long and faithfully he pleaded with her to become his missionary before she would accept a salaried position; but she consented. The chapel was commenced; but the harvest, ripe for the reapers, did not wait for a building. John Porter came--came to preach practical Christianity. Both he and Mary visited the poor with provisions, clothing, and fuel in their train. More cheap tenement houses were built. The poor were well lodged, well clothed, well fed; the chapel was filled with attentive hearers; but more than all,--for it is the foundation of all true self-respect,--the poor were taught to be independent. It was found that the model houses were good, paying property, and prudent men, for their own interest, helped to carry out Eugene’s idea. Men and women, who had received gifts from the chapel treasury, insisted upon paying their full value; for with well-filled stomachs and well-covered bodies came a self-respect and a self-reliance which refused charity. But, in spite of all that was done, Eugene did not dream of founding a Utopia. He did not succeed in building up a colony of saints and heroes. There were still hundreds of men and women who could hardly be anything but vagabonds. The foreign population, though much improved in condition, still obstinately clung to dirt, and rags, and bad whiskey; paradise and Poppleton were still dissimilar. When Eugene had bought the land, and staked out the chapel, Father McCafferty, the Catholic priest of the Mills, called upon him in high dudgeon, and squarely accused him of attempting to convert his flock to the “abominable religion.” “Not at all, Father McCafferty,” replied Eugene, calmly. “You are building a chapel for them,” added the indignant priest. “Of what use is it to them if you build houses for the poor, feed, and clothe, and warm them, if you steal away their souls?” “I assure you, sir, I have no designs upon their souls.” “What else can it mean? The chapel is for the poor; and that means my people. Sure you have done everything for them, and you are stealing them away from me.” “I have no desire to convert them from anything but dirt, rags, and vile liquor.” “God bless you for that; if you will only stop there. But your chapel and your Sunday school will rob them of their souls. I have no church--nothing but an old shed; and some of them may be led into a nice place like that you mean to build.”