opportunity he had desired since his coming to
Virginia--to make an Indian convert so notable that this conversion
might bring others in its train. Moreover the maiden herself interested
him. But it was not so easy to go about it. Pocahontas's knowledge of
English did not extend beyond the simplest expressions; and he found it
necessary to translate the long and abstruse theological dogmas into
familiar terms. He had almost despaired of making her comprehend until
he recalled how his Master had taught in parables. So he retold the
incidents of His life in stories which held the Indian maiden
spellbound. He showed her pictures in heavy leathern-bound volumes, and
tried with less success to explain the meaning of the daily religious
services he conducted in the church.

"Why do ye put always flowers on that table?" she asked, pointing to the
vases on the altar which the Governor bade keep always filled with fresh
blossoms as long as the forests and river bank could supply them. "What
good hath thy god of them?"

"Dost thou not take delight in the sunshine. Princess?" replied the
priest as they sat in the cool shade of the darkened church looking out
through the open door at waving green branches and the river beyond. "I
have beheld thee lift up thine arms on a fair day when the swift white
clouds moved across the blue heavens as if thou wouldst embrace the
whole wide earth. Why dost thou take pleasure in such things?"

"Because," hesitated the maiden, seeking for a reason, "because they
make me happy."

"Because," he added, "they are beautiful. And God who created all this
beauty rejoiceth too in it--in green fields and noble trees, in lovely
maidens, strong men and happy children. Therefore, in token thereof, we
place beautiful flowers upon His table."

"And delighteth he not in incantations of shamans and jossakeed
(inspired prophets) and in self-torture?" she queried.

"Nay," he answered; "such things are of the Devil; our God is love.
Ponder upon the difference."

And Pocahontas did think much of what he told her. Her spirit was
maturing in this new atmosphere like a quick-growing vine climbing
higher each day. Dr. Whitaker's own fatherly kindness to her and to all
the colony became for her the symbol of the tenderness of the God of
whom he taught her. Then, too, this strange new deity was the god of her
Brother, John Smith; and whatever in any way was dear to him she wanted
to make her own.

For weeks the