"Agree with him, Mr. Laicus!" said he, "of course I do. There can be no true religion without prayer, without piety, without gratitude to God, without faith in Him. Your Church has not the monopoly of faith in God, by any means, that it assumes to have." "And you really believe in prayer?" said I. "Believe in prayer? Why, of course I do. Do you take me for a heathen?" replied he, with some irritation. "And every night," said I, "you kneel down and commend yourself to our Heavenly Father's protection? and every morning you thank him for His watchfulness, and beseech divine strength from Him to meet the temptations of the day; and every day you gather your family about His throne, that you may teach your children to love and reverence the Father you delight to worship?" There was a long pause. Mr. Gear was evidently taken by surprise. He made no answer; I pressed my advantage. "How is it, my friend?" said I. "Well, n--no!" said he, "I can't honestly say that I do." "You believe in prayer, and yet never pray," said I, "is that it?" "It is so much a matter of mere habit, Mr. Laicus," said he, excusingly; "and I never was trained to pray." "All your lifelong," said I, taking no heed of the excuse, "you have been receiving the goodness of God, and you never have had the courtesy to say so much as 'thank you.' All your lifelong you have been trespassing against Him, and never have begged his pardon, never asked his forgiveness. Is it so?" There was a moment's pause. Then he turned on me almost fiercely. "How can I thank him Mr. Laicus," said he "when you say that I do not love him, and cannot love him." "Did I ever say that you do not love God?" said I gently. "Well then," said Mr. Gear, "I say it. There is no use in beating about the bush. I say it. I honor him, and revere him, and try to obey him, but I do not particularly love him. I do not know much about him. I do not feel toward him as I want my children to feel toward me. What would you have me do Mr. Laicus? Would you have me play the hypocrite? God has got flatterers enough. I do not care to swell their number." "I would have you honest with him as you are with me," I replied. "I would have you kneel down, and tell him what you have told me; tell him that you do not know him, and ask him that you may; tell him that you do not love him and ask him that you may."