t reverent, was not gay. He, their gallant, was
respectfully silent, when Alice said, without lifting her eyes:

"I wonder if La Salle ever stood here? This is holy ground. No spot on
earth has a charm for me like this. I am in the temple. I see the
attentive, watchful priest feeding there (as she pointed) the holy
fire, and yonder, with upturned eyes, the great lawgiver worshipping
his god, as he comes up from his sleep, bringing day, warmth, light,
and life. Was not this worship pure? Was it not natural? The sun came
in the spring and awoke everything to life. The grass sprang from the
ground and the leaves clothed the trees; the birds chose their mates
and the flowers gladdened the fields; everything was redolent of life,
and everything rejoiced. He went away in the winter, and death filled
the land. There were no leaves, no grass, no flowers. All nature was
gloomy in death. Could any but a god effect so much? The sun was their
god; his temple was the sky, and his holy fire burned on through all
time. Beautiful conception! Who can say it is not the true faith?"

"To the unlettered mind, it was," answered the young gentleman;
"because the imagination could only be aided by the material presented
to the natural eye. Science opens the eye of faith. It teaches that the
sun is only the instrument, and faith looks beyond for the Creator. To
such the Indian's faith cannot be the true one. The ignorance of one
sees God in the instrument, and his thoughts clothe him with the power
of the Creator, and his heart worships God in sincerity, and to him it
is the true faith. But to the educated, scientific man, who knows the
offices of the sun, it appears as it is, only the creature of the
unseen, unknown God, and to this God he lifts his adoration and
prayers, and to him this is the true faith."

"So, my philosopher, you believe, whatever lifts the mind to worship
God is the true faith?"

"You put it strongly, Miss, and I will answer by a question. If in
sincerity we invoke God's mercy, can the means that prompt the heart's
devotion, reliance, and love, be wrong? His magnitude and perfection
are a mystery to the untutored savage: he knows only what he sees. The
earth to him, (as it was to the founders and patriarchs of our own
faith,) is all the world. He has no idea that it is only one, and a
small one of a numerous family, and can conceive only that the sun
rules his world; gives life and death to everything upon the earth--b