bones, as they were ten thousand years ago. Even the cleverest of
them are secretly afraid of omens, and respect auguries. Think of the
broadest women you know. One of them will throw salt over her shoulder
if she spills it. Another drinks money from her cup by skimming the
bubbles in a spoon. Another forecasts her future by the arrangement of
tea-grounds. They make the constituency to which an institution based
on mysteries, miracles, and the supernatural generally, would naturally
appeal. Secondly, there is the personality of the priest."

"Yes," assented Ware. There rose up before him, on the instant, the
graceful, portly figure and strong, comely face of Father Forbes.

"Women are not a metaphysical people. They do not easily follow
abstractions. They want their dogmas and religious sentiments embodied
in a man, just as they do their romantic fancies. Of course you
Protestants, with your married clergy, see less of the effects of this
than celibates do, but even with you there is a great deal in it.
Why, the very institution of celibacy itself was forced upon the early
Christian Church by the scandal of rich Roman ladies loading bishops
and handsome priests with fabulous gifts until the passion for currying
favor with women of wealth, and marrying them or wheedling their
fortunes from them, debauched the whole priesthood. You should read your
Jerome."

"I will--certainly," said the listener, resolving to remember the name
and refer it to the old bookseller.

"Well, whatever laws one sect or another makes, the woman's attitude
toward the priest survives. She desires to see him surrounded by
flower-pots and candles, to have him smelling of musk. She would like