“Yes, Aunt Mabel, if the true love of God is not in us, we are like fruit-trees cursed with barrenness—­only fit to be cast into the fire,” said May, sighing.

“Well, honey, I never was a professor, ’cause I never yet heard professors agreein’.  The Baptists hated the Methodists; the Methodists hated the Presbyterians; the Protestants looked down, like, on all of ’em, and they all hated each other.  I never could understand it, so I thought I’d go to heaven my own way.”

“Well, Aunt Mabel, leaving these to their discords,” said May, smiling at her rude but truthful description, “did the thought never enter your mind that Jesus Christ might have established a faith and rule on earth to guide souls, which would be upheld and governed by His Holy Spirit until the end of time?”

“I often thought he ought to, honey; but I’m a poor ignorant creetur—­what do I know?” was the naive reply.

“He did, Aunt Mabel; and from the time he established it until now, during eighteen hundred years it has never changed; it will never change until it exchanges for eternity its reign upon earth.  All other religions were founded by men,—­wicked, blood-thirsty, ambitious men, who wanted a broad license to sin, and who reserved only such fragments of our divine faith, as would give plausibility to their new doctrines without fettering theirs with responsibilities to spiritual tribunals.  This is why all these discords, exist among professors.  In leaving the one faith which acknowledges one Lord and one baptism, they have hewn out for themselves ’broken cisterns which hold no water.’  But do you understand me?”

“Yes, honey, that I do.  But I’m too old and ignorant to hear larning and argumentation.  I want the faith of Jesus Christ; and it ’pears to me that I never he’erd the true story until now.  Whatever it is, your religion suits me, if you will jest show me the way.  I’m gwine down, honey, to the valley and shadow of death, and the way’ll be mighty dark without the help of the Lord.”

“He will be your guide and staff, Aunt Mabel, when the dark hour comes,” said May, dashing a tear from her cheek.  “But I must go away now, and I want you to think a great deal about Almighty God, until I come again; then tell me if you think His word and promise are worthy of belief.  Turn it over in your mind; view it in every way, and let me hear the result.  I see your grandchild coming with a bundle of faggots; here is a little change to buy something—­tea, or whatever you want.”

“Good by, missis.  Lord bless you and reward you.”  But May was out of the cot, going at full speed towards home, which was not very far distant.