Emily Upton.  “I should really be very glad, Clara, if we could.  It seems to me we might talk much more freely with each other, than with older persons; for some things trouble me on this subject, and if I should speak of them to mother, or any one else, I am afraid they would think less of me, or blame me.”

Clara.  “Then let us each answer the question, why are we not Christians?  You tell us first, Emily.”

Emily.  “Well, then, it seems to me, I am just as good as many in the church.  I do not mean to say that I am good, but only if they are Christians, I think I am.  There is Leonora D., for instance, she dresses as richly with feathers and jewels, attends parties instead of the prayer-meetings, and acts as haughtily as any lady of fashion I ever knew.  Now, I go to the Bible class, evening meetings, always attend church, and read the Bible, and pray every day.  Notwithstanding all, mother says, so tenderly, ’Emily, my child, I wish you were a Christian,’ and I get almost angry that she will not admit that I am one.”

Alice Grey.  “Well, I do not blame Leonora much.  To tell the truth, I do not believe in so much church-going and psalm-singing.  I think God has given us these pleasant things to enjoy them, and it is perfectly natural for a young girl to sing and dance, visit, dress, and enjoy herself.  It seems to me there is time enough for religion when we grow older, but give me youthful pleasures and I can be happy enough.”

Sophia.  “But you think religion is important, do you not?”

Alice.  “Yes, I suppose it is necessary to have religion to die by, and I own I sometimes feel troubled for fear that I may die before possessing it, but I am healthy and happy, and do not think much about it.  I want to enjoy life while I can, like these little birds in the garden who are singing and skipping so merrily.”

Clara.  “Annie, you are the reverse of Alice, quiet, gentle, and sedate; why are not you a Christian?”

Annie.  “Since we are talking so candidly, I will tell you.  I really do not know how to be.  I cannot feel that I have ever done anything that was so very sinful, although I know, for the Bible says so, that I am a sinner.  To be sure, I have done a great many wrong things, but it does not seem as though God would notice such little things, and besides it did not seem as though I could have done differently in the circumstances.  Mother has always commended me, and held me up for a pattern to the younger children, and I suppose I have become, at least, you will think I have, a real Pharisee.  Yet when I have been urged to repent and believe in Christ, I have not known what to do.  I have spent hours in the still, lonely night, thinking upon the subject, and saying, if I could only feel that I am a sinner I would repent.  I have always believed in Jesus, that He is the Son of God, that He assumed our nature, and bore the punishment we deserve, and will save all who believe in Him.  Now what more can I do?  I know that I must do everything, for I feel that I am far from being a Christian, and yet I know not what.  I suppose your experience does not correspond with mine, Clara?”