"An intelligent young man from the East by the name of Travers joined in the conversation by saying: 'When I was a boy I remember how serious my good father felt because he thought a neighbor had died without his sins being forgiven, and had gone to hell. At that time the word _hell_ used to have some meaning on the minds of the people, and produced on my mind a feeling of fear and awe. But how different it is now. If a minister was to preach now about all wicked people going to hell, it would produce no more effect on their minds than water on a duck's back, for the word hell is now a spent thunderbolt, used uselessly by the mouths of so many. It may be well for theologians to know (if any of them believe in hell as preached) whether or not they have got through discussing hell; their views have no weight whatever on the minds of the masses, for they are all the time making light, fun, and sport of the word _hell_.' 'That's so,' joined in the men, and they all laughed. "I had been at the Lonsdale ranch about three or four months when I received your letter asking me to return home." "Well, Charles," said the old man Herne, "if I had not worked out for several years on ranches, I should think your stories slightly colored, but from my own experience I should say the half has not been told." "That is so, father," said Charles. "I have not stated what I have seen and heard half strongly enough." The father said: "When I bought this ranch, the first thing I did was to build solid fences, raise lots of feed and hang gates on hinges so that a child could open them with its finger. I always make my plans so that I have more feed than stock. I did not set out an orchard till the fences were finished, so that nothing could get in. I made it a point to avoid losing a lot of work through bad management. My hired men have always had a good house to sleep in, each man having a room to himself. The house is cool in the summer through having double porches all round it, and warm in winter because it is well furnished. Men and teams never go out to work in the winter till the sun is up. Every man sits down to supper at six, during the summer months, and they have two hours' nooning. What is the result? I have always had the best men to work for me, and they never want to leave. Each man is put upon his honor, and takes as much interest in doing his best for me as if the place belonged to him. Everything goes on the same at the ranch when I am away as when I am there. No man has used anything but the most respectful language to me. I have heard no swearing at teams. In fact, I have heard no swearing or low stories at all. I never would allow it. Every day the work is done well and without friction." "Yes," said his son, "I used to think your place was heaven while I was away." Two years from the time this conversation took place, the father died, leaving the property and some money to his son, Charles, and seven thousand dollars to his daughter Lena.