given him; that He was, in fact, ’heir of all things.’  Now, when that fact is fixed in my mind, I connect this other with it, that we, God’s children also, are joint heirs with Christ; and in fact, if we continue on in the way He trod, we shall be like Him.  Now, then, what does this chain of argument lead us to?  That we may follow in the footsteps of God, and where He has gone, or shall go, we may go.  Think of it—­no, we can’t.  Only for an instant can our minds dwell upon it, then we drop to the common level again, and here we are, a speck on the surface of the deep.”

“What is that book you are reading?” asked the minister.  He had evidently also dropped to the “common level;” or perhaps he had not soared with his companion.

“This?  O, this is Kipling’s ‘Plain Tales from the Hills.’  I like Kipling, but I wish he hadn’t written some very untruthful things about my people.”

“Has he?”

“Yes.  It seems he made a flying visit through Salt Lake City, and took for gospel truth the lurid stories hack drivers tell to tourists so that they may get their money’s worth.”

“Well, I don’t know;—­but that brings me to the point of my errand.  I sought you out especially today to ask you not to talk religion to my daughter.  I understand she and you had a discussion on ‘Mormonism’ last evening, and she slept very little all night as a result.”

“You are mistaken, sir; I said nothing to her about ‘Mormonism.’  She told me a little about—­”

“Well, whatever it was, she was and is still ill over it.  Let me tell you,—­and I am sure you will believe me,—­my little girl is all I have.  She has been ailing for years, heart trouble mostly, with complications.  A comfortable voyage with no over-excitement might help, the doctors said; and that’s the main reason for this trip.  She has always been interested in religious questions, which I naturally encouraged her in; but when she got mixed up somewhat with the ‘Mormons,’ that was quite another matter.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Well, it excited her.  It brought her in contact with undesirable people, people not of her class and standing—­”

“Like me, for instance.”

“I did not say that.”

“You inferred it.  But pardon me.  I would not, for the world, do anything that would unfavorably affect your daughter.”

“I knew you would look at the matter sensibly.  Perhaps it would be for the best if you did not meet her oftener than possible.  I know it is difficult on ship-board, but for her sake you might try.”

“For her sake, why certainly, I’ll do anything—­for I want to tell you, Mr. Strong, you have a good, sweet daughter.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“And I think a whole lot of her, I may just as well tell you.  We have met but a few times, but some souls soon understand each other.”

“What!  You don’t mean—!”

“That we have been making love to each other,” laughed Chester.  “O, no; not that I know; but there is such a thing as true affinity of souls, nevertheless, the affinity which draws by the Spirit of God.  And so I say again plainly, that you may understand, I regard your daughter highly.”