"Do _your_ religion teach the same to every body, honey; or is you only
sayin' so of your own 'cord?" inquired old Mabel, wistfully.

"Our holy religion teaches it to all. Into her safe and ancient fold
she invites all; and when we know that this fold is the kingdom
established on earth by Jesus Christ himself, how we ought to fly, and
never rest until we are gathered in. In this divine faith we are
taught to 'love one another,' without regard to race, color, or nation,
and bring forth fruits unto righteousness; which, if we fail to do, we
disobey,--we bring scandal on it, and the love of God is not in us,"
said May, earnestly.

"Fruits unto righteousness, which mean good works, I reckon, honey!"
said the old creature, musingly. "Well, I dunno, but it _do_ seem like
'tinkling cymbals,' and 'sounding brass' to go preaching the gospel to
poor sufferin' folks like me, and telling of 'em to be patient and
resigned, and suffer the will of Heaven, and all that, if they don't
give the naked clothes to cover 'em, and the hungry food to nourish
'em, and to the frozen fire to warm 'em. I tell you what, Miss May,
such religion aint no 'count it 'pears to me, and jest minds me of a
apple-tree used to grow in ole mass'r's garden; it would get its leaf
and blossom; like the rest on 'em, but never a sign of apple did it
bear; so one day ole missis tells him he better cut it down for
firewood--and so it was, and split up, and sent to my cabin; and I tell
you what, honey, I was glad, 'cause somehow it seemed to 'cumber the
airth."

"Yes, Aunt Mabel, if the true love of God is not in us, we are like
fruit-trees cursed with barrenness--only fit to be cast into the fire,"
said May, sighing.