soothe her grief, and secretly resolved to undermine the "superstition
which caused the dear girl so much unhappiness."

"You have done nothing wrong, dear Clara, that you should reproach
yourself so bitterly. You have only spent a pleasant afternoon and
evening with a friend. We must have dined somewhere, and what
difference whether at their house or our own! what is life given us
for except to make it just as full of happiness as we can, and to make
others around us happy! Just think how much pleasure your sweet
singing gave my friends and me. Harvey said it was better than the
finest opera he ever heard. Religion ought to make people happy. I am
afraid yours has not to-day, Clara, so I cannot think it is just the
right sort for you. Now, really, did not the drive to and from church
do you more good than the sermon? I am quite sure it did; so I always
intend to take a good long road to church in the future."

It was some consolation to know that her husband intended to go to
church with her in the future; so Clara dried her eyes and listened to
a little gem of poetry he had selected to read to her that morning.

Little by little the rock of her faith was worn away, and she was fast
learning to look on happiness as the true end of existence instead of
_holiness_, "without which no man shall see the Lord." And, alas! many
whose associations are far less worldly make this mistake, and look
mainly for a great deal of joy and exalted happiness in their
religious life. Because they do not attain it they go mourning all
their days, looking with weeping eyes on those whom they regard as
more favored of God, because the light of gladness shines upon their
pathway. Desponding heart! there is no true happiness in religion
where that alone is the end you seek. Holiness must be the end and aim