ly speechless with the power. And some of
em' screemed so you could hear 'em fer half a mile."

I kep on a-mouldin' my bread out into biscuit (good shaped ones, too, if
I do say it), and sez calmly, "Wall, I never wuz much of a screemer. I
have always believed in layin' holt of the duty next to you, and doin'
_some_ things, things He has _commanded_. Everybody to their own way.
I don't condemn yourn, but I have always seemed to believe more in the
solid, practical parts of religion, than the ornimental. I have always
believed more in the power of honesty, truth, and justice, than in the
power they sometimes have at camp and other meetins. Howsumever," sez I,
"I don't say but what that power is powerful, to the ones that have it,
only I wuz merely observin' that it never wuz _my_ way to lay speechless
or holler much--not that I consider hollerin' wrong, if you holler from
principle, but I never seemed to have a call to."

"You would be far better if you did," sez Trueman's wife, "far better.
But you hain't good enough."

"Oh!" sez I, reasonably, "I could holler if I wanted to, but the Lord
hain't deef. He sez specilly, that He hain't, and so I never could see
the _use_ in hollerin' to Him. And I never could see the use of tellin'
Him in public so many things as some do. Why He _knows_ it. He _knows_
all these things. He don't need to have you try to enlighten Him as if
you wuz His gardeen--as I have heard folks do time and time agin. He
_knows_ what we are, what we need. I am glad, Trueman's wife," sez I,
"that He can look right down into our hearts, that He is right there in
'em a-knowin' all about us, all our wants, our joys, our despairs, our
temptations, our resolves, our weakness, our blindness, our defects, our
regrets, our remorse, our deepest hopes, our inspiration, our triumphs,
our glorys. But when He _is_ right there, in the midst of our soul, our
life, why, _why_ should we kneel down in public and holler at Him?"

"You would be glad to if you wuz good enough," sez she; "if you had
attained unto a state of perfection, you would feel like it."

That kinder riled me up, and I sez, "Wall, I have lived in this house
with them that wuz perfect, and that is bad enough for me, without bein'
one of 'em myself. For more disagreeable creeters," sez I, a prickin' my
biscuit with a fork, "more disagreeable creeters I never laid eyes on."

Trueman's wife thinks she is perfect, she has told me so time and
agin--thinks