“Do you not think the fear of hell helps to hold people in the right path sometimes, Mrs. Patten?” Aunt Hildy looked at him with a wondrous light in her eyes, as she answered: 

“No, sir, I don’t; my Bible says perfect love casteth out fear.  The woman that’s afraid of her husband can’t love him if she dies for it, and the boy who hates his father through fear, can’t muster up respect enough to love him if he tries.”  And her knitting needles clicked again as if to say, “that’s the truth.”

A few moments and then Clara spoke (Aunt Hildy stopped knitting the moment she began, as if expecting a treat).  “We are taught,” she said, “that our Father loves us; that he rejoices with great joy in the return of a prodigal to his fold.  The truth that he loves us better than we can ever love each other here, that none of us shall ask for bread and receive a stone, neither fish and receive a serpent, was spoken to us from the ages past.  Christ came into the world as the bearer of all essential truths.  His enemies, the Jews, knew he told the truth and hastened to crucify him, saying in plain words—­’If he live, all men will believe on him, crucify him, crucify him,’ and it was done, but he left behind him the great token of his love, and he hath said, ‘Whosoever believeth on me, even though he were dead yet shall he live,’ etc.  If we can understand him, he means us all, every child of our Father, and are we not all his?  The law of Moses was buried when the law of Christ was given, which is the law of our omnipotent Father.  I am ready,” and down her cheeks tears coursed their way; “I do so want to know more of this beautiful faith, for it has ever been my own; I say to you to-night and I have already said it to my heavenly Father, I will yield my life, if I can help the poor, tired hearts, the needy souls of men, to embrace this glorious truth, ‘Love ye one another.’” Tears filled the eyes of all save those of Wilmur Benton, who sat as if covered with astonishment, and I could see that he was puzzled; and if he spoke his thought might have said, “What manner of woman is this, and how can I touch the strings of her heart.”

Clara’s eyes grew large and full of light as she continued: 

“I care not for the name, for what manner of difference can that make—­we are to be known and know each other by and by; we can and should have our heaven below; we can and should have love for one and all; and while my loyal friend Emily speaks harshly of the minister, who, fearing a new path before some of his people, feels it his duty to not only call, but drive them back into the square pen of the old ideas; yet we must not condemn him, neither measure his heart exactly by the words of his text or sermon.  The circumference of the tree is more than three times its diameter, and yet we know the width of the board we use is found in the diameter.  Words are a circumference which encircle the breadth of a diameter,