“I told you I don’t know anything about Mexico, except at second-hand.  But, I should say, schools.  Schools are good for any land, don’t you think, Mr. Drury?  And in Mexico they are such great disturbers of the old slouching indifference.  They will make the right kind of discontent.  Schools bring other things; new ideas of health and sanitation, home improvement, social outlook, and all that.  Then, with the schools, I guess, the straight gospel.  The Mexicans won’t get converted all at once, and they won’t become like us, ever.  But I’m about ready to say that whether missions are needed anywhere else or not, they surely are needed in Mexico.  And Mexico is the first stepping-stone to South America; which is next on my list of the places that ought to have the whole scheme of Christian teaching and life.”

“Yes,” said Alma, “and you know, I suppose, that the beginning of our Panama Mission was an Epworth League Institute enterprise?  Well, it was.  California young people assumed the support of the first missionary sent there, and later he went on down to South America, with the same young people determined to take him on as their representative, just as they did in Panama.”

“Where did you get that story?” J.W. wanted to know.

“Oh, I forgot,” Alma answered him, laughing.  “You haven’t had time to read The Epworth Herald in Saint Louis.”

“Yes, I have, young lady,” J.W. retorted, “but I missed that.  Anyway, it’s on the right track.  I think we’ve got to change the thinking of all Latin America about Christianity, if we can.  Most of the men, they say, are atheists, made so very largely by their loss of faith in the church; and many of the women substitute an almost fierce devotion to the same church for what we think of as being genuine religion.”

The minister spoke up just here.  “I should think it would be pretty difficult to treat our United States Mexicans in one way, and those across the Rio Grande in another.  We must evangelize on both sides of the river, but only on this side can we even attempt to Americanize.”

“That’s right,” J.W. affirmed.  “And even on this side we can’t do what we may do in Delafield.  The language is a big question, and it has two sides.  But no matter what the difficulties, I’m for a great advance of missions and education, starting with Mexico and going all the way to Cape Horn.”

“That’s all very fine,” interposed Marty, “but what about the rest of the world, J.W.?  What about the world that has not even the beginning of Christian knowledge?” Marty had put the question on the urge of the moment, and not until it was out did he remember that Mr. Drury had asked him to help raise this very issue.

“Well,” J.W. answered, slowly, “maybe that part of the world is worse, though I don’t know.  But we can’t tackle everything.  Latin America is an immense job by itself, and we have some real responsibility there; a sort of Christian Monroe Doctrine.  Ought we to scatter our forces?  The non-Christian world has its own religions, and has had them for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.  What’s the hurry just now?  If we could do everything, we Protestant Christians, I mean, in this country and Britain, it might be different, but we can’t.  Why not concentrate?”