Such a man was Brian Rowley. His religion was of so pure a stamp that it would not bear the world's rough contact, and, therefore, it was never brought into the world. He left the world to take care of itself when the Sabbath morning broke; and when the Sabbath morning closed, he went back into the world to look after his own interests. Every Sunday he progressed a certain way towards heaven, and then stood still for a week, in order that he might take proper care of the dollars and cents.
Business men who had transactions with Mr. Rowley generally kept their eyes open. If they did not do it at the first operation, they rarely omitted it afterwards, and for sufficient reason; he was sharp at making a bargain, and never felt satisfied unless he obtained some advantage. Men engaged in mercantile pursuits were looked upon, as a general thing, as ungodly in their lives, and therefore, in a certain sense, "out-siders." To make good bargains out of these was only to fight them with their own weapons; and he was certainly good at such work. In dealing with his brethren of the same faith he was rather more guarded, and affected a contempt for carnal things that he did not feel.
We said that the religion of Mr. Rowley did not go beyond the pious duties of the Sabbath. This must be amended. His piety flowed into certain benevolent operations of the day; he contributed to the support of Indian and Foreign Missions, and was one of the managers on a Tract Board. In the affairs of the Ceylonese and South-Sea Islanders he took a warm interest, and could talk eloquently about the heathen.
Not far from Mr. Brian Rowley's place of business was the store of a man named Lane, whose character had been cast originally in a different mould. He was not a church-going man, because, as he said, he didn't want to be "thought a hypocrite." In this he displayed a weakness. At one time he owned a pew in the same church to which Rowley was attached, and attended church regularly, although he did not attach himself to the church, nor receive its ordinances. His pew was near that of Mr. Rowley, and he had a good opportunity for observing the peculiar manner in which the latter performed his devotions. Unfortunately for his good opinion of the pious Sunday worshipper, they were brought into rather close contact during the week in matters of business, when Mr. Lane had opportunities of contrasting his piety and charity. The want of agreement in these two pre-requisites of a genuine Christian disgusted Lane, and caused him so much annoyance on Sunday that he finally determined to give up his pew and remain at home. A disposition to carp at professors of religion was manifested from this time; the whole were judged by Rowley as a sample.
One dull day a man named Gregory, a sort of busybody in the neighbourhood, came into the store of Mr. Lane and said to him—"What do you think of our friend Rowley? Is he a good Christian?"
"He's a pretty fair Sunday Christian," replied Lane.
"What is that?" asked the man.
"A hypocrite, to use plain language."
"That's pretty hard talk," said Gregory.
"Do you think so?"
"Yes. When you call a man a hypocrite, you make him out, in my opinion, about as bad as he can well be."
"Call him a Sunday Christian, then."
"A Sunday Christian?"
"Yes; that is, a man who puts his religion on every Sabbath, as he does his Sunday coat; and lays it away again carefully on Monday morning, so that it will receive no injury in every-day contact with the world."
"I believe with you that Rowley doesn't bring much of his religion into his business."
"No, nor as much common honesty as would save him from perdition."
"He doesn't expect to be saved by keeping the moral law."
"There'll be a poor chance for him, in my opinion, if he's judged finally by that code."
"You don't seem to have a very high opinion of our friend Rowley?"
"I own that. I used to go to church; but his pious face was ever before me, and his psalm-singing ever in my ears. Was it possible to look at him and not think of his grasping, selfish, overreaching conduct in all his business transactions through the week? No, it was not possible for me. And so, in disgust, I gave up my pew, and haven't been to church since."
The next man whom Gregory met he made the repository of what Lane had said about Rowley. This person happened to be a member of the church, and felt scandalized by the remarks. After a little reflection he concluded to inform Mr. Rowley of the free manner in which Mr. Lane had spoken of him.
"Called me a hypocrite!" exclaimed the indignant Mr. Rowley, as soon as he was advised of the free manner in which Mr. Lane had talked about him.
"So I understand. Gregory was my informant."
Mr. Gregory was called upon, and confirmed the statement. Rowley was highly indignant, and while the heat of his anger was upon him, called at the store of Mr. Lane, in company with two members of his church, who were not at all familiar with his business character, and, therefore, held him in pretty high estimation as a man of piety and sincerity.
The moment Mr. Lane saw these three men enter his place of business, he had a suspicion of their errand.
"Can I have some private conversation with you?" asked Mr. Rowley, with a countenance as solemn as the grave.
"Certainly," replied Mr. Lane, not the least discomposed. "Walk back into my counting-room. We shall be entirely alone there. Do you wish your friends present?"
"I do," was gravely replied; "I brought them for that purpose."
"Walk back, gentlemen," said Lane, as he turned to lead the way.
The four men retired to the little office of the merchant in the back part of the store. After they were seated, Lane said:
"Well, Mr. Rowley, I am ready to hear what you have to say."
Mr. Rowley cleared his throat two or three times, and then said, in a voice that indicated a good deal of inward disturbance:
"I understand that you have been making rather free use of my name of late."
"Indeed! in what way?" Lane was perfectly self-possessed.
"I am told that you went so far as to call me a hypocrite." The voice of Rowley trembled.
"I said you were a Sunday Christian," replied Lane.
"What do you mean by that?" was peremptorily demanded.
"A man whose religion is a Sunday affair altogether. One who expects to get to heaven by pious observances and church-goings on the Sabbath, without being over-particular as to the morality of his conduct through the week."
"Morality! do you pretend to say that I am an immoral man?" said Rowley, with much heat.
"Don't get into a passion!" returned Lane, coolly. "That will not help us at all in this grave matter."
Rowley quivered in every nerve; but the presence of his two brethren admonished him that a Christian temper was very necessary to be maintained on the occasion.
"Do you charge me with want of morality?" he said, with less visible excitement.
"I do,—that is, according to my code of morality."
"Upon what do you base your code?" asked one of the witnesses of this rather strange interview.
"On the Bible," replied Lane.
"Indeed!" was answered, with some surprise; "on what part of it?"
"On every part. But more particularly that passage in the New Testament where the whole of the law and