I stopped at my father's house on the way, and after
a short visit, went on to Dave's. It was a pleasant morning, and I left
my overcoat at home, as I had but a short distance to go.
Dave lived in a beautiful old farmhouse near the shore, overlooking the
harbor, and our Sunday program had been walking along the beach, or
sitting around the house smoking, eating apples, drinking cider and
killing time in the most unconventional way possible. "It's too bad," I
thought, "that Dave has got religion, it spoils all our good times"; but
I was hoping to find him less strenuous on the subject than when I had
heard him in the chapel six weeks before. But Dave's conversion was so
genuine and his enthusiasm so real that it was impossible for me
entirely to resist and beat back the impact of his testimony.
I concealed my impressions, however, and told him that no doubt he
needed it, it was probably a good thing for him, I wouldn't say a word
to discourage him, but as for me, I did not need that kind of medicine.
He urged me to go to church with him, but I declined his invitation so
positively that he did not renew it.
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