“Mae, dear, to-day is Sunday; let us find a church,” as we inspect the various houses. We select a large domed enclosure as a temple to God. Stepping to its crystal doors it opens itself to us. Within is a rest scene. Standing or sitting, all look serene, as sacred dreamy notes of melody fill the air, flower perfumed. A soothing sense of peace takes possession of us. Instead of high altar, Hebraic, or idol, or Hindoo custom, a lady and gentlemen are passing among the people, speaking kind admonitions, solemn adoration, or cheering responses. I reflect; this may be their manner of service. The lady passing us, (who I see is our hostess) chucks us under the chin playfully, saying, “Sweets, have you come to court?” “Court? I thought it was a church,” I explain. “What is a church?” she asks. “Where we pray to God.” “Oh, we should do that everywhere. The earth is His court. This is only an Arc court,” as she passes on. I still think it a church. “Auntie, some are dancing; do you see?” I did. She tried the step in childish glee. Is it a church dance? A worship mode suitable to the Arctic locality. How the Unitarians and Catholics would enjoy it. But I—my M. E. founder, Asbury, was lame, so could not dance, therefore we preach it down. Saucy, as Episcopal, sees no harm. But now she pulls me out and waltzes me around. (I had learned the art before I joined the M. E.’s.) The glow of circulation raises my spirit to a desire to shout. I do so in M. E. denominational style, solacing my conscience thus far. Soon it pricks again. When tired and resting I study out the scripture of this new service. Would Jesus (if here) adapt a sermon to its beneficial principles, as He had done to baptism (bath) of the crowds drawn to the river side for that purpose, obligatory in their sweltering climate? Are not all church rites illustrative of adaptations of the one worship—Spirit and Truth? These thoughts adding so much of scriptural interpretation of new modes, adding, therefore, new program to my former stereotyped observances, I become at first slightly confused, but reserve my settled decision, until I have farther and more deeply weighed the subject. Until then, I wonder. “What is best for us to do in such a church as this?” I turn as I speak aloud, to see Charley by my side, who has overheard all, and coaches me. “Do? Make the earth a church, as do these people.” The noon hour arrived. Refreshments of light and solid food are passed to all. Not having got over the impression of its being a church, Mae, who has not heard the explanation, turns and says: “Auntie, it is a sacrament! The little gum paste cups hold drink. I do not think it will harm me.” A sacrament! Would that all the churches would give each Sunday as substantial a one to Jesus’ sheep and lambs, which are the poor, who go poorly fed all the week.