earth.

The Rev. Mr. Strong had actually given up his pastorship in two places,
moving westward until he reached Kansas City.--Here for a number of
years, he had experienced peace, a sort of indifferent peace, he
admitted, due more to callousness of soul than to anything else. Then
came Lucy's adventure with the "Mormon" elders on the streets, and her
visit to "Mormon" meetings. She had brought "Mormon" literature home,
and he had read it, read it all. He had asked her to bring more. He had
often sat up till midnight to finish a book, then had railed at Lucy for
bringing it into the house. And now the conflict was on again, harder
than ever. He closed his eyes, saying, "No, no;" then opened them again
to the beautiful light. He stopped his ears, crying, "I will not hear;"
then listened to the sweet music. With all the force of his life's
training, he railed against the doctrine; then in silence contemplated
its glorious truths. He drove the thought of it out of his mind; then
welcomed it eagerly back. Back and forth, in and out, in doubt and fear,
in faith and hope his soul had suffered and wrought.

What was the outcome to be? Evidently, the end was not yet; for had he
not purposely taken this trip abroad, to get away from some of these
things, and had he not run hard against that which he had hoped to
escape. And in what form had it now come? In that of his son, his only
son, the child of his younger days! Surely God was in this thing. "Yes,"
the man muttered, "God is watching me. I cannot escape. His hand is over
me. '_If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost
parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand
shall hold me!_'"

Uncle Gilbert came in, humming lightly a tune he had caught from the
band in the cafe. He stopped when he saw his brother apparently asleep.
He was about to retreat when his brother, opening his eyes, called:

"Don't go; come here. I want to talk with you. I want your opinion on a
matter."

Uncle Gilbert seated himself to listen.

"You might think it a strange thing for me to ask you about doctrines of
religion," began the brother, "but sometimes a layman has a clearer,
more unbiased view than one who has studied one system, and--and has
made his living from preaching it."

"I fear, brother, you are worrying too much about such things"--

"Not at all--not too much. It's necessary to worry sometimes. I suppose
that's God's way of arousing peopl