A SHORT time since, a lady who had been remarkable for her thoughtlessness requested a professedly pious lady to accompany her that day to visit another lady, also professedly pious. The afternoon passed away, and the subject of religion was not mentioned, probably for fear of offending the gay friend who proposed the visit. As the two neighbors walked toward home, the first-mentioned remarked that she had lost the afternoon, for nothing would have induced her to leave home but the expectation of hearing something about religion; but she added, “I came to the conclusion that there is nothing in religion, or that my neighbors do not possess it, for if they did they would speak to me about my soul.” She said she had been greatly alarmed about herself for several days; but had concluded that afternoon, that if religion was not worth talking about, it was not worth thinking of. “Never,” said that pious neighbor, “shall I forget that look of despair and reproach. I felt that I had murdered a soul by neglect.”