The church was different from any that I had ever been in before,—big and light and cheery, instead of dismal and heavy. I always wondered why folks thought they ought to be sober and sad when they thought of religion, and why they always associated religion with suffering and death. But here everything made you think of happiness and life, and every one seemed as if he had something to be glad about,—something that was lifting him up, instead of resting like a weight upon him. It surely did look good to me. I never saw a prayer-meeting that size before in my life. It was a tremendously big church, and it was crowded full, and people standing. When we were going home, I said to Bess.
"Was that a prayer-meeting?"
"Well," said Bess, "I don't see why it couldn't be called a prayer-meeting."
"It wasn't like any prayer-meeting I ever went to before, excepting when they said the Lord's Prayer."
Bess thought for a minute. "Prayer is communicating with God, isn't it?" she said.
"I suppose so."
