“O, I could not think of such a thing!” exclaimed Clara. “You have already given me the blues. I fear you will never be yourself again. You are so changed. But reading that awful old Dante is enough to frighten any one out of his senses. I tried to read it not long since, but it was so foolish and absurd, I dropped it in disgust. But haven’t you preached long enough? I do believe you will be a preacher yet.” “No; I have no such idea as that. But I should be sorry to think that preachers are the only persons to whom it is allowable to talk about religion. However, I am a changed man, and I am glad you can perceive it. I hope I may never again be the wicked man I have been. But I shall not further press the subject upon your attention, and I promise not to mention it again till you are in the proper mood to talk about it.” The foregoing conversation is no integral part of the present story, and might have been omitted entirely, but we have recorded it at length to show what different views young people entertain in regard to the highest destiny a human being can achieve. What makes such a vast difference, when there are precisely the same incentives to action in both? Some quickly cut the Gordian knot by attributing it to the difference in their wills, which, we may bring this chapter to an end by saying, is quite a convenient way of avoiding _Deep Waters_. [Illustration: Decoration] CHAPTER III. THE MYSTERIOUS VOICE. The protracted meeting, which had continued fourteen days, was ended. Dr. Coyt, the Evangelist, took his leave in order to carry blessings to other places. No one could deny that a wonderful change had taken place in the moral aspect of the town. Some, who had been regarded as the worst characters in the community, astonished their neighbors by an immediate reformation. Saloon-keepers joined the church. Gamblers forsook their evil ways. Lukewarm church members were fired with renewed zeal. The whole town seemed to be animated by one impulse and one purpose. But such a great disturbance of public thought could not in the nature of things be maintained for any lengthy period. Public feeling, like water, seeks its level. A state of effervescence is not its normal condition. Consequently the foam-crested waves must soon subside into customary tranquillity. Men return to their vocations, and their thoughts revert to trade and traffic. The things of eternity which had so recently absorbed attention, must now be partly laid aside.