"But you, as a minister of the gospel, understand all these things.

However, I like to think about them and express them to those who will listen"--and as the minister was listening, the young man went on:

"I reason it out this way: The Spirit of God--that is, His presence in influence and knowledge and power, as you so beautifully put it yesterday at the services, is everywhere in the universe. There is no place in heaven or hell, or in the uttermost bounds of space but God is there. As you also stated, we may not fully understand this infinite magnificence of God, but this has been done to help us: the Father has revealed Himself to us through his Son. The Son we can comprehend, for He was one of us. We learn from scripture that this Son had all power both in heaven and earth given him; that He was, in fact, 'heir of all things.' Now, when that fact is fixed in my mind, I connect this other with it, that we, God's children also, are joint heirs with Christ; and in fact, if we continue on in the way He trod, we shall be like Him.

Now, then, what does this chain of argument lead us to? That we may follow in the footsteps of God, and where He has gone, or shall go, we may go. Think of it--no, we can't. Only for an instant can our minds dwell upon it, then we drop to the common level again, and here we are, a speck on the surface of the deep."

"What is that book you are reading?" asked the minister. He had evidently also dropped to the "common level;" or perhaps he had not soared with his companion.

"This? O, this is Kipling's 'Plain Tales from the Hills.' I like Kipling, but I wish he hadn't written some very untruthful things about my people."

"Has he?"

"Yes. It seems he made a flying visit through Salt Lake City, and took for gospel truth the lurid stories hack drivers tell to tourists so that they may get their money's worth."

"Well, I don't know;--but that brings me to the point of my errand. I sought you out especially today to ask you not to talk religion to my daughter. I understand she and you had a discussion on 'Mormonism' last evening, and she slept very little all night as a result."

"You are mistaken, sir; I said nothing to her about 'Mormonism.' She told me a little about--"

"Well, whatever it was, she was and is still ill over it. Let me tell you,--and I am sure you will believe me,--my little girl is all I have.

She has been ailing for years, heart trouble mostly, with complications.

A comfortable voyage with no over-excitement might help, the doctors said; and that's the main reason for this trip. She has always been interested in religious questions, which I naturally encouraged her in; but when she got mixed up somewhat with the 'Mormons,' that was quite another matter."

"Why, may I ask?"

"Well, it excited her. It brought her in contact with undesirable people, people not of her class and standing--"

"Like me, for instance."

"I did not say that."

"You inferred it. But pardon me. I would not, for the world, do anything that would unfavorably affect your daughter."

"I knew you would look at the matter sensibly. Perhaps it would be for the best if you did not meet her oftener than possible. I know it is difficult on ship-board, but for her sake you might try."

"For her sake, why certainly, I'll do anything--for I want to tell you, Mr. Strong, you have a good, sweet daughter."

"I'm glad you think so."

"And I think a whole lot of her, I may just as well tell you. We have met but a few times, but some souls soon understand each other."

"What! You don't mean--!"

"That we have been making love to each other," laughed Chester. "O, no; not that I know; but there is such a thing as true affinity of souls, nevertheless, the affinity which draws by the Spirit of God. And so I say again plainly, that you may understand, I regard your daughter highly."

"Young man, I thank you for your open manner and speech, but I beseech of you not to encourage any deeper feeling towards my daughter. She can never marry. She lives, as it were, on the brink of the grave. Now, I have been plain also with you."

"I appreciate it, sir; believe me; I am profoundly sorry for her and for you; but, let me say this, seeing we are speaking plainly, if I loved your daughter, and we all knew she would die tomorrow, or next month, that knowledge would make only this difference, that my love would become all the holier. If she returned that love, we would be happy in knowing that in the life beyond we would go on and bring that love to a perfect consummation."

The minister looked closely again at the young man. Then, giving voice to his thoughts, asked: "Have you studied for the ministry? Are you now a 'Mormon' missionary?"

"I am not an authorized 'Mormon' missionary. My studying has been no more than is expected of every 'Mormon.' Every member of our Church is supposed to be able to give a reason for the hope that is within him,--and I think I can do that."

"Do you live in Utah?"

"No, sir; my home is in Chicago."

"Chicago!--well, I--are there 'Mormons' in Chicago?"

"A few, as I suppose there are a few in Kansas City. I joined the 'Mormon' Church in Chicago, but I was converted in Utah."

"You have been to Utah, then?"

"O, yes; I spent some time there and got very well acquainted with the people; and they are a good people, I tell you, sir. I know--"

"Yes, well, Mr.----, Lucy did tell me your name, but I have forgotten it."

"My name is Lawrence--Chester Lawrence."

The minister had arisen as if about to go, but he now sat down again.

Chester did not understand the strange twitching of the minister's lips or the pallor of his face. What had he said or done to agitate the man so much?

"Chester Lawrence!" repeated Mr. Strong under his breath.

"You have never met me before, have you? Perhaps--"

"No; I have never met you before. No, no; of course not. There was just something come over me. I'm not very well, and I suppose I--"

He stopped, as if he lacked words.

"May I get you anything, a drink of water?" suggested Chester.

"No, no; it was nothing. Sit down again"--for Chester also had arisen--"and tell me some more about yourself. I am interested."

"Well, my life has been very uneventful, and yet in a way, I have lived.

As a boy in Chicago, I suppose, my young days passed as others; but it was when I went out west and met the 'Mormons' that things happened to me."

"Yes, yes."

"I don't mean that I had any adventures or narrow escapes in a physical way. I lived in the mountains as a miner for a time, but there are no wild animals or Indians there now, so my adventures were those of the spirit, if I may use that expression,--and of the heart. Isn't that your daughter coming this way?"

Sure enough, Lucy had found them, and came up to them beaming. Chester failed to see in her any symptoms for the worse, as her father had indicated. In fact, there certainly was a spring to her step which he had not seen before.

"Well, I've found you at last, you run-away papa. Good morning," she nodded to Chester, who returned the greeting. "Don't you know, papa, you have kept me waiting for half an hour or more to finish our game."

"I'll go right now with you," said the father, rising.

"Well, I don't care so much now, whether it's finished or not. I believe someone else has it anyway."

"Oh, we'll go and finish the game," persisted Mr. Strong.