A FABLE.

AS a Man of the World was passing by a Gaming House he saw a Pietist letting himself out by the side-door. " Well—I'm damned !" said the Man of the World.

" Gently, my friend," said the Pietist. " You forget that I am the proprietor of this—well, establishment. My actions will stand all the scrutiny that you can possibly bring to bear on them."

"But," said the Man of the World, "I thought you objected to all that sort of thing—condemned it totally, absolutely. Why, it was you who set up that place close by where they preach such capital sermons every day against gambling, and show how unnecessary as well as how vile a vice it is. I've always regarded the fact that you had the courage of your opinions as your chief claim to honour, and admired your straightforwardness and consistency.—But really now—" "I see nothing inconsistent," interrupted the Pietist; "or, if there is, I am perfectly willing to bear the brunt of criticism. I am not afraid of being called inconsistent as long as my own conscience does not condemn me. That is the test, not the rash and hasty judgments of those who do not realise the true position."

Man of the World. "But surely you see how hypocritical and canting your position must seem to the ordinary man ?"

Pietist. "I don't care for the opinion of the ordinary man. Accusations of cant and hypocrisy have pursued good men from the beginning, and doubtless will to the end."

Man of the World. "But for you, of all men, to make money out of such a place! Hang it all, man! It would be better if you'd yielded to a sudden temptation and gone wrong and repented. Surely anything is better than to be the most respected man in the town and own a— ?"

Pietist. "How money is used is perhaps more important than the source from which it is drawn, but I don't press that. What I have got to consider is the intention with which I own a business. You forget, too, that if I had not bought this particular business and carried it on, some one else would have done so. It would not have died out merely because I refused to touch it. .1 may remark also that you have no right to exact from me a higher standard in business than you exact from others. Do not forget, moreover, that though gambling no doubt takes place, there are texts and moral observations framed and hung up in every room, tracts are distributed at the doors, and lectures on improving and humorous subjects are conducted nightly in the room next to. that which contains the tables."

Man of the World. "You make my head reel. I thought it was only Jesuits who were supposed to talk like that. They have got a `doctrine of intentions,' I believe, but I always imagined we prided ourselves here on being dead against sophistry and casuistry and so on. Perhaps I'm wrong, though, for I don't profess to be a dialectician. At the same time--" Pietist (smiling indulgently). "Go on please. I do not in the least object to your being frank and plain-spoken."

Man of the World (brightening up a little, and as if he saw daylight). "Oh, well, I suppose I've made a blnnder and done you an injustice. I suppose the truth is that you really take the 'man-of-the-world' view all the time. You don't think there is much harm in it, after all. - '

and that sort of thing. Eh P As long as it's a well-conducted place, and no scandal and no blackmail— That's your argument, isn't it ? "

Pietist. "Pardon me. You are quite mistaken. You have no sort of right to put such words into my mouth. I abhor the vice of gambling intensely. I cannot admit for a moment the kind of excuses you are suggesting. Please don't think I can make any compromises on such a matter."

Man of the World (almost incoherent with bewilderment). "But in that case you leave yourself no possible excuse. Where are you ? How do you stand P What's your defence ? You're absolutely inconsistent."

Pietist. " You mean that you cannot understand how little I care about the opinion of the world as long as I can meet the criticism of my own conscience."

Man of the World. " Oh, for God's sake drop talking about conscience. It makes me feel cold at the pit of the stomach. I suppose I haven't a conscience at all, but if I had one like that, I'd send it out to be repaired. The fact is, you've drugged or stunned or gagged your conscience, or fed it on sweets so long that it's all fat."

Pietist. " That is a matter on which I cannot and will not argue. No man can judge another's conscience. Its voice sounds only in one spiritual ear, and it speaks a language that only one heart can understand. Still, I have enough of the old Adam in me to make me like to think I am not altogether misunderstood by my neighbours. Remember that I did not buy that house alone. It is part of a large investment. I bought the whole district, which I hope to improve gradually. If I closed that place, a good many people would move, for my house, as you know, is not the only gaming-house in the town. There are lots of others. The only result of my action would be that my general improvement' scheme would to some extent have the mainspring taken out of it and my work be spoilt."

Man of the World. " But consider the ruin which you have always alleged these places produce, and the vices they encourage—drinking, immorality."

Pietist. "I have—very carefully, very carefully indeed " ; and the Pietist beamed on the Man of the World.

So convincing was his argument that the Man of the World was on the point of putting out his hand and apologising, when there came round the corner men with flags and a band, who began to bawl out :-

" Walk in, walk in, and make your fortunes! Lucky numbers supplied for a small fee ! You can't go wrong if you follow our tips ! Those who followed our advice yesterday made thousands ! Walk in, walk in, and have a bit on!

"If you're anxious the oof-bird to net,

Try a flutter to-day at roulette, Sell out all you've got, And plank down the lot, 'Tis a game that you'll never regret." • At that the Man of the World drew back.

"No; I'll be hanged if I apologise. It's a bit too thick. You almost converted me till I saw those chaps. No; you'll never persuade me that it's right for a man of your opinions to pay fellows to flog on men to bet and gamble like that. It simply won't do. Whatever you say, and however good your arguments may sound, it's cant and hypocrisy from beginning to end. That's all it is. Very possibly there's not so much harm in betting as you say, but there must be harm in canting. That must be wrong, whatever else is right. You may be a good man, and you may have a splendid rubber. necked conscience, but I tell you plainly, I'd rather take my chance with old Jones over there, who can't see any crime in a flutter and never could, and has kept his family in want all their lives, than with you, who never made a bet in your life, think it a vice, and send men round the town to entice people into your own little private hell. If you thought it didn't matter I shouldn't mind; but it's your thinking it's a hell all the time that beats me."

As the Man of the World went home he talked to himself : "They say the old-fashioned public-school ideas about • " Maya' have a good time down at Chester,

Let this merry month furnish a tip, peek up all that you've got and bundle the lot On the daughter of Desmond and Gyp."

—Star, May 4th, 1910. honour and gentlemanlike conduct are out of date, and only worthy of the ages of savagery and militarism ; but, by Jingo, there's a great deal in them after all. If that Pietist had those same old ideas about the conduct of a gentleman, and felt a stain on his honour like a wound, he would never have got into the hideous bog of self-righteous cant in which I just saw him floundering up and down. He would never have talked all that rot and used all those false arguments. He'd have said from the beginning : Come what may, I'll never put myself in a position which will give people the right to call me a hypocrite. I've always said gambling and betting were wrong, and I think so still, and I am not going now, conscience or no conscience, to say by my acts that I don't think there's any harm in them. No man can behave like that and remain a gentleman.'—If only he could remember so to be a Pietist as not to forget to be I gentleman. I wonder, though, whether he really feels so omfortable inside' as he says. I doubt it—very much."