Spalding, in the New York Evangelist, draws a striking picture of Old New England worship, when everybody went to church but babies and the sick, and the present elegant worship with full two-thirds of the pews vacant. He asks with point and force: "What have we gained by all this strenuous effort, and this unlimited expenditure to make religion attractive? Have kitchen and parlor, have the high niceties of worship appealing to the aesthetic tastes, accomplished that success which is held forth as the justification and the very necessity for all this thing? Under all the attractions of religion, and the infinitely ingenious methods devised for coaxing the 'unchurched masses' to the house of God, have we succeeded? Does this religion of the day, so courteous, so beguiling, so sugar-coated throughout, does it 'draw?' Does it fill the pews? Even if I have got an outsider in, have I got him by such a motive and appeal where I can long keep him in; or if I keep him in, is it possible to bring him under such influences into the great solemnities of religion! Are we not, even in this poor success, simply training men and women and children to think that they are doing the church a favor by attending it, and even God a favor in consenting to worship him?"