We hitched up the spring wagon this morning and drove to the Center to church.It's a sweet little white frame church with a spire and three Doric columns in front（or maybe Ionic-I always get them mixed）.
A nice，sleepy sermon with everybody drowsily waving palmleaf fans，and the only sound aside from the minister，the buzzing of locusts in the trees outside.I didn't wake up till I found myself on my feet singing the hymn，and then I was awfully sorry I hadn't listened to the sermon；I should like to know more of the psychology of a man who would pick out such a hymn.This was it：
Come，leave your sports and earthly toys
And join me in celestial joys.
Or else，dear friend，a long farewell.
I leave you now to sink to hell.
I find that it isn't safe to discuss religion with the Semples.Their god（whom they have inherited intact from their remote Puritan ancestors）is a narrow，irrational，unjust，mean，revengeful，bigoted person.Thank heaven I don't inherit any god from anybody！I am free to make mine up as I wish him.He's kind and sympathetic and imaginative and forgiving and understanding-and he has a sense of humor.
I like the Semples immensely；their practice is so superior to their theory.They are better than their own god.I told them so-and they are horribly troubled.They think I am blasphemous-and I think they are！We've dropped theology from our conversation.
This is Sunday afternoon.
Amasai（hired man）in a purple tie and some bright yellow buckskin gloves，very red and shaved，has just driven off with Carrie（hired girl）in a big hat trimmed with red roses and a blue muslin dress and her hair curled as tight as it will curl.Amasai spent all the morning washing the buggy；and Carrie stayed home from church ostensibly to cook the dinner，but really to iron the muslin dress.
In two minutes more when this letter is finished I am going to settle down to a book which I found in the attic.It's entitled On the Trail，and sprawled across the front page in a funny little-boy hand：
Jervis Pendleton