merciless logic, she has again the allegiance of practically all Christians who have any supernatural belief left.  There are a few faddists left, especially in America and here; but they are negligible.  That is all very well; but, on the other hand, you must remember that Humanitarianism, contrary to all persons’ expectations, is becoming an actual religion itself, though anti-supernatural.  It is Pantheism; it is developing a ritual under Freemasonry; it has a creed, ‘God is Man,’ and the rest.  It has therefore a real food of a sort to offer to religious cravings; it idealises, and yet it makes no demand upon the spiritual faculties.  Then, they have the use of all the churches except ours, and all the Cathedrals; and they are beginning at last to encourage sentiment.  Then, they may display their symbols and we may not:  I think that they will be established legally in another ten years at the latest.

“Now, we Catholics, remember, are losing; we have lost steadily for more than fifty years.  I suppose that we have, nominally, about one-fortieth of America now—­and that is the result of the Catholic movement of the early twenties.  In France and Spain we are nowhere; in Germany we are less.  We hold our position in the East, certainly; but even there we have not more than one in two hundred—­so the statistics say—­and we are scattered.  In Italy?  Well, we have Rome again to ourselves, but nothing else; here, we have Ireland altogether and perhaps one in sixty of England, Wales and Scotland; but we had one in forty seventy years ago.  Then there is the enormous progress of psychology—­all clean against us for at least a century.  First, you see, there was Materialism, pure and simple that failed more or less—­it was too crude—­until psychology came to the rescue.  Now psychology claims all the rest of the ground; and the supernatural sense seems accounted for.  That’s the claim.  No, father, we are losing; and we shall go on losing, and I think we must even be ready for a catastrophe at any moment.”

“But—–­” began Percy.

“You think that weak for an old man on the edge of the grave.  Well, it is what I think.  I see no hope.  In fact, it seems to me that even now something may come on us quickly.  No; I see no hope until—–­”

Percy looked up sharply.

“Until our Lord comes back,” said the old statesman.

Father Francis sighed once more, and there fell a silence.

* * * * *

“And the fall of the Universities?” said Percy at last.

“My dear father, it was exactly like the fall of the Monasteries under Henry VIII—­the same results, the same arguments, the same incidents.  They were the strongholds of Individualism, as the Monasteries were the strongholds of Papalism; and they were regarded with the same kind of awe and envy.  Then the usual sort of remarks began about the amount of port wine drunk; and suddenly people said that they had done their work, that the inmates were mistaking