Goodness, mercy! in that case some thousands of us would become heathen if we never found God save inside of a church.

Does this poor lady not read her Bible, then?  Has she not heard the psalmist’s cry:  “If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there.  If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there also; whither shall I flee from thy presence?”

Surely, there are a great many places besides the church between heaven and hell, and even in a theatre we may not flee from His presence.

But lest the young girl writers should feel abashed over their expressions of surprise at my conduct, I will show them what good company they have had.

A good many years ago a certain famous scholar and preacher of New York City called upon me one day.  I was absent, attending rehearsal.  The creed of his denomination was particularly objectionable to me, but having wandered into the big stone edifice on Fourth Avenue one Sunday, I was so charmed by his clear reasoning, his eloquence, and, above all, by his evident sincerity, that I continued to go there Sunday after Sunday.

In my absence he held converse with my mother as to his regret at missing me, as to the condition of the weather, as to the age, attainments, and breed of my small dog, who had apparently been seized with a burning desire to get into his lap.  We afterward found she only wished to rescue her sweet cracker, which he sat upon.

In his absent-minded way he then fell into a long silence, his handsome, scholarly head drooping forward.  Finally he sighed and remarked:—­

“She is an actress, your daughter?”

My mother, with lifted brows, made surprised assent.

“Yes, yes,” he went on gently, “an actress, surely, for I see my paper commends her work.  I have noted her presence in our congregation, and her intelligence.” (I never sleep in the daytime.) “Our ladies like her, too; m-m, an actress, and yet takes an interest in her soul’s salvation; wonderful!  I—­I don’t understand! no, I don’t understand!” A speech which did little to endear its maker to the actress’s mother, I’m afraid.

See how narrowing are some creeds.  This reverend gentleman was personally gentle, kind, considerate, and naturally just; yet, knowing no actor’s life, never having seen the inside of a playhouse, he, without hesitation, denounced the theatre and declared it the gate of hell.

In the amusing correspondence that followed that call, the great preacher was on the defensive from the first, and in reading over two or three letters that, because of blots or errors, had to be recopied, I am fairly amazed at the temerity of some of my remarks.  In one place I charge him with “standing upon his closed Bible to lift himself above sinners, instead of going to them with the open volume and teaching them to read its precious message.”

Perhaps he forgave much to my youth and passionate sincerity; at all events, we were friends.  I had the benefit of his advice when needed, and, in spite of our being of different church denominations, he it was who performed the marriage service for my husband and myself.