of its scabbard, smiting at the very thing dearest of all things to thousands of church-members to-day—­the money, the property, the gain of acquisition; and he smote, perhaps, with a somewhat unwise energy of denunciation, yet with his heart crying out for wisdom with every blow he struck, “Would Christ say it?  Would He say it?” And his sensitive, keenly suffering spirit heard the answer, “Yes, I believe He would.”  Back of that answer he did not go in those days so rapidly drawing to their tremendous close.  He bowed the soul of him to his Master and said, “Thy will be done!”

The week following this Sunday was one of the busiest Philip had known.  With the approach of warmer weather, a great deal of sickness came on.  He was going early and late on errands of mercy to the poor souls all about his own house.  The people knew him now and loved him.  He comforted his spirit with that knowledge as he prayed and worked.

He was going through one of the narrow courts one night on his way home, with his head bent down and his thoughts on some scene of suffering, when he was suddenly confronted by a young man who stepped quickly out from a shadowed corner, threw one arm about Philip’s neck and placed his other hand over his mouth and attempted to throw him over backward.

It was very late, and there was no one in sight.  Philip said to himself:  “This is the attack of which I was warned.”  He was taken altogether by surprise, but being active and self-possessed, he sharply threw himself forward, repelling his assailant’s attack, and succeeded in pulling the man’s hand away from his mouth.  His first second’s instinct was to cry out for help; his next was to keep still.  He suddenly felt the other giving way.  The strength seemed to be leaving him.  Philip, calling up some of his knowledge of wrestling gained while in college, threw his entire weight upon him, and to his surprise the man offered no resistance.  They both fell heavily upon the ground, the man underneath.  He had not spoken and no one had yet appeared.  As the man lay there motionless, Philip rose and stood over him.  By the dim light that partly illuminated the court from a street lamp farther on, he saw that his assailant was stunned.  There was a pump not far away.  Philip went over and brought some water.  After a few moments the man recovered consciousness.  He sat up and looked about in a confused manner.  Philip stood near by, looking at him thoughtfully.

CHAPTER XIX.

As the man looked up at Philip in a dazed and uncertain manner, Philip said slowly: 

“You’re not hurt badly, I hope.  Why did you attack me?”