“If this is all,” he said, “this living from day to day, oppressed with the needs of the flesh, we have nothing to be thankful for; but if, as I can both see and know, man lives again, we have all to give great praise, and also rejoice through our deeds, that we are the children of the eternal Father.”

Not a word of utter darkness, not a terrifying picture of a wrathful and impatient God did he draw, but it was all tenderness and love that found its way to the hearts of all his hearers; and when, in his own blessed way, he pronounced the benediction, I felt that a full wave of kindness covered us all, and I said in my heart: 

“Oh, Louis, Emily will help you; Emily will do it!”

Mr. Davis’ eyes were bright with gratitude and great joy as he greeted us after the service, and he whispered to me: 

“You are the wife of a minister.”

This was only a beginning, and for months after, every other Sabbath Louis occupied the pulpit, and to the surprise of Mr. Davis, all those who had become interested in the dispensation of Mr. Ballou, and who had now for a long time been to the church where we had heard the sermon which came as dew to my hungry soul, began to come again to the old church.  Louis’ preaching drew them there, and they settled in their old place to hear, as they expressed it, “the best sermons that ever were preached.”  This was pleasant.  Louis had said: 

“I cannot subscribe to the articles of your creed, or of any other, but am willing and anxious to express to others the thoughts that are within me.”

This made no difference, for they knew he spoke truly, and also that the armor of his righteousness was made of the good deeds which he performed daily.  It helped Mr. Davis along, and after a time his health became better; but even then he insisted on Louis preaching often, which he gladly did.

On the Christmas of this year, 1846, there was service as usual at our church, and both Mr. Davis and Louis occupied the pulpit.  A Christmas service was not usual save in the Episcopal church, but Mr. Davis asked this privilege.  His father had been a strict Episcopalian, and he had learned in his early years to love that church.  Our people were not loth to grant his request, and I think this Christmas will never be forgotten.

We took supper at Hal’s with Aunt Phebe, who had come with her husband to pay us, what Mr. Dayton termed, “a young visit.”  He had perfect knowledge of the English language, and power to express himself not only with words, but with a most characteristic combination of them.  He said his wife felt anxious that he should be on amicable terms with her consanguineous friends, but he expected we should attribute less of goodness to him than to her, for “Phebe Ann” was a remarkable woman.  “And this,” he added, “is why she appreciates me.”

Ben tried in vain to interest him more than a few moments at a time, even though he displayed his young stock and invited him into the broom-corn room.