a nice lunch for us. His
overseer dined with us, a good-looking chap, devoted to Robert Strong,
as I could see, and ready to carry out his idees to the full. Miss
Meechim couldn't find anything, it seemed to me, to pick flaws in, but
she did say to me out to one side, "Just think how Robert lives in a
house no better than his workmen, and he might live in a palace."

Sez I, warmly, "Robert Strong's body may stay in this comfortable
brick house, good enough for anybody, but the real Robert Strong
dwells in a royal palace, his soul inhabits the temple of the Lord,
paved with the gold and pearl of justice and love, and its ruff
reaches clear up into heaven from where he gits the air his soul
breathes in."

"Do you think so? I never thought of it in that light; I have thought
his ideas was erroneous and so my clergyman thinks. Rev. Dr. Weakdew
said to me there were a great many texts that he had preached from all
his life, that if these ideas of Robert's was carried out universally,
would be destroyed and rendered meaningless. Texts it had always been
such a comfort to him to preach from, he said, admonishing the poor of
their duty to the rich, and comforting the poor and hungry and naked
with assurances that though hungry here they may partake of the bread
of life above, if they are humble and patient and endure to the end,
and though shivering and naked here, they may be clothed in garments
of light above."

And I sez, "Bein' that we are all in this world at present, I believe
the Lord would ruther we should cover the naked limbs and feed the
starvin' bodies here, and now, and leave the futur to Him."

But Miss Meechim shook her head sadly. "It sounds well," sez she, "but
there is something wrong in any belief that overthrows Scripture and
makes the poor wealthy."

"Well," sez I, "if it wuz our naked backs that the snow fell on, and
the hail pelted, and our stomachs that wuz achin' and faint for food,
we should sing a different tune."

"I trust that I should sing a Gospel tune in any event," sez she.

"Well," sez I, "we needn't quarrel about that, for we couldn't feel
much like singin' in them cases. But if we did sing I think a good
hymn would be:

Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love.

"And if the rich and poor, Capital and Labor would all jine in and
sing this from the heart the very winders of heaven would open to hear
the entrancin' strains," sez I. But I don't spoze I changed