"I fear," said the Bishop, uncomfortably, "that we are talking to each other across an impassable gulf."
"Not a bit, Bishop. The human intellect, properly directed, can bridge any chasm. Let us be philosophical." H. R. said this as one who proposes to speak in words of one syllable. "Now, good people--I don't mean _you_, Bishop; you know: _good_ people!--always do everything wrong end foremost. Now, what do you, speaking collectively, do to feed the hungry?"
"Ah yes, you astutely work to eliminate poverty by tackling the poor, instead of operating on the rich. You give tickets to the hungry! Think of it--_to the hungry_! Tickets! A green one means a bowl of pea soup; a pink one, a slice of ham; a brown one, a codfish ball. The polychromatics of systematized charity whereby you discourage the increase of a professional pauper class! Tickets! To the hungry! Ouch!"
The Bishop more than once had despaired of solving that very problem. He shook his head sadly rather than rebukingly and said, "I have no doubt that you are a very remarkable young man and very up to date and very hopeful, but in a huge city like New York how can any one solve the problem of helping everybody who really needs--"
"By using brains, Bishop Phillipson," cut in H. R., so sternly that the Bishop flushed. But before his anger could crystallize, H. R. continued, challengingly: "Who in New York are in need of charity? Five thousand empty bellies? No. Five million empty souls!"
It was a striking figure of speech. Before the Bishop could say anything H. R. went on, very politely:
"Will you oblige me by torturing the ears?"
"Torturing the ears?" echoed the Bishop in a daze.
"Yes; by listening. Do you hear"--H. R. pointed to a corner of the room--"do you hear a voice from heaven saying, 'Let them that hunger bring a physician's certificate of protracted inanition? You don't? Then there's hope. What I propose to do, Bishop, is to revolutionize the industry." H. R. spoke so determinedly that the Bishop could not help forgetting everything else and asking:
"By giving the ticket to the full belly; not to the empty. We utilize the machinery already in existence, but the ticket goes to the man who pays twenty-five cents, not to the man who needs or accepts the quarter's worth of food. There are people who would compel a fellow-man made by God after His image to convert himself into a first-trip-to-Europe dress-suit case and paste labels all over himself: _Pauper! Hungry! Wreck!_ My tickets will be precious tags marked: _Charitable! Decent! Christian!_ I accomplish this by giving to the giver! Success is a matter of labels."