you, the thought of a burning hell always makes me shudder. I
never could conceive of such torture at the hand of a wise and loving
God. If there is punishment awaiting the unrighteous, it is not of
literal fire. I am well persuaded of this, for if it were a literal
fire, a body would soon be consumed; hence, the punishment could not be
endless as supposed; while upon a spiritual body, it could have no
effect. The fire in the stove burns my finger, but touches not my soul."

"You know the tenets of our belief embrace both eternal comfort and
eternal misery," said Mr. Davis; "it is what we are taught."

"I know," said my father. "I have considered my church obligations
seriously, and am prepared to say, if it is inconsistent for me, in the
eyes of my preacher or of his people, that I, holding these thoughts,
should remain in fellowship with them as before, I can only say I have
grown strong enough now to stand alone, and I should think I ought to
stand aside. I cannot see why we may not agree on all else."

"I believe we do; I respect your opinions, Mr. Minot; we cannot afford
to lose you either. May I ask with what denomination you would propose
to unite?"

"None at all," said my father, "unless the road comes clearer before me.
I love our old meeting-house, Mr. Davis; my good old father played the
violin there for years, and when a youth, I stood with him and played
the bass viol, while my brother, now gone, added the clear tones of the
clarionet, and the voice of my sweet sister Lucy could be heard above
all else, in the grand old hymns 'Silver Street' and 'Mear.'" At these
recollections my father's voice choked with emotion, and strange for
him, tears fell so fast he could say no more.

"Brother Minot," said Mr. Davis, rising to his feet and taking his hand,
his eyes looking upward, "let the God who seeth in secret hold us still
as brothers; keep your pew in the old church. This one difference of
opinion can have no weight against either of us. This is all the church
meeting we need or will have, and if I ever judge you falsely, may I
_be_ thus judged."

Aunt Hildy said: "Amen, Brother Davis, your good sense will lead you out
of the ditch, that's certain."

Clara's eyes were looking as if fixed on a far-off star. She was lost in
gazing, the thin white lids covered her beautiful eyes for a moment or
two, then she turned her pure face toward Mr. Davis, and said:

"It is good for us all to be wise, and it is not