should think that church was cold; but you never saw
anything more beautiful than the picture it made when we went in. Right
before us was a white altar--not a communion table like ours at home,
but a little platform with steps to it, set thick with candles, and
loaded down with wreaths of white flowers. I tell you, sisters, it
seemed to me as if the angels must have been down overnight, and moulded
those flowers out of the drifted snow, and breathed life into them, they
looked so pure.

On each side of this altar was a great, large candle, five feet high,
and thick as a young tree, burning with a slow, steady fire, and some of
the smaller candles twinkled like stars among the flowers.

All overhead and down the walls of this little meeting-house were great
wreaths of ground pine, ivy and hemlock, crowded with lights and
sprinkled with flowers, and these flung shadows on the walls more lovely
than the wreaths themselves.

I was chilled through and through, but I don't think it was that which
brought all these solemn feelings into my mind, for the tears that had
frozen on my cheeks ran freely now, and my eyes kept filling again. I'm
sure I can't tell the reason, only that everything was so still and
beautiful.

The pews in St. Albans have no cushions, and everybody can sit in them,
only there is a placard on each, inviting the poor to sit down for
nothing, but telling those that have money to give it, to support the
church; which is just what our meeting-houses do, though they only chuck
the plate at you, without a written warning.

Cousin E. E. and I sat down in one of the pews, and slid our knees to a
board running along in front, to kneel on, and covered up our faces a
minute or two; then we looked up, and there, close by the altar, stood
the minister; but, oh, goodness! how he was dressed out. He had on,
first, a black silk gown, with great bishop-sleeves, then a white linen
dress, that I should think was a night-gown, only it was on a man, and
it isn't many women who would like to lend such things to be used in
meeting-time. Over that he wore a white satin cape.

Cousin E. E. pronounces it cope, but she does finefy her words so since
she came to York.

On that was worked a cross, in gold and silk, like a Free Mason's apron
in some respects. He held a book open in his hand. I could see that he
was shaking with chilliness, and the words rattled like icicles from his
lips. Close by him stood a boy, dressed in a