his father's on the hills,
may our souls call to him, and his heart receive from us the strength
which our love can give--angels to minister to his wants. Oh! this is
beautiful to think upon."

The eyes of our good minister filled with tears, and I thought how
wisely and well Clara sows the seed. I felt ashamed to think how
unmindful of this tolerance of ideas I had been when his fiery sermon
aroused my spirit, and I have often since felt that we all possess too
much intolerance each toward the other. Mr. Davis was original in
thought, and had always regilded as it were the old texts in his sermon,
until they could not fail to interest us; and when, yielding to pressure
of conviction regarding eternal punishment, he warned his flock, Clara
judged him rightly, and I was wrong; for while the idea was horrible to
me, I had not wisdom or judgment to express myself, whereas Clara had
opened wide the door of love to his heart, and he received and
acknowledged the baptism of pure and elevating thought.

His absolute fire died away into the description of conscience torment,
and through his later years the mellow ripeness of new thought took in
large part the place of the old. Mr. Davis was very anxious concerning
his health, and we did not wonder, for his cheeks grew pale and thin. He
seemed much older than he really was, and in two years of time had
gained ten in the defining face lines. These were, it seemed,
ineffaceable, and as the months wore on grew deeper still.

Matthias' marriage came off in September, and our whole household were
invited. Aunt Hildy said she'd send them something, "but no weddins for
me," and she shook her head when I asked whether she was going.

Mother was busy and did not feel like sparing the time, so at last,
Clara, Louis and I went over, and Mrs. Davis came with her husband, who
performed the ceremony in a pleasant way. I think no couple ever had
just such wedding presents. A blanket and some home-spun towels from
Aunt Hildy; a large silk bandana handkerchief, a chintz dress pattern,
and a little bead purse with some bits of gold from Clara (how much I
never knew), and from Louis a load of shingles, and the services of a
carpenter to re-shingle the little house, with some sensible gifts from
Hal and our people. Aunt Peg was beside herself with joy which she could
not express to suit her, and at last she said, "won't try to tell you
nothin'--can't do it."

Mr. and Mrs. Davis stayed only a f