rope. This roof was supported at equal distances
by strong shafts resting on transversal beams. The four white-washed
walls had no ornament whatever. Poverty had made the parish
iconoclastic, whether it would or not. The church, paved and furnished
with benches, was lighted by four arched windows with leaded panes. The
altar, shaped like a tomb, was adorned by a large crucifix placed
above a tabernacle in walnut with a few gilt mouldings, kept clean and
shining, eight candlesticks economically made of wood painted white, and
two china vases filled with artificial flowers such as the drudge of a
money-changer would have despised, but with which God was satisfied.

The sanctuary lamp was a night-wick placed in an old holy-water basin
of plated copper hanging by silken cords, the spoil of some demolished
chateau. The baptismal fonts were of wood; so were the pulpit and a sort
of cage provided for the church-wardens, the patricians of the village.
An altar to the Virgin presented to public admiration two colored
lithographs in small gilt frames. The altar was painted white, adorned
with artificial flowers in gilded wooden vases, and covered by a cloth
edged with shabby and discolored lace.

At the farther end of the church a long window entirely covered by a
red calico curtain produced a magical effect. This crimson mantle cast
a rosy tint upon the whitewashed walls; a thought divine seemed to glow
upon the altar and clasp the poor nave as if to warm it. The passage
which led to the sacristy exhibited on one of its walls the patron saint
of the village, a large Saint John the Baptist with his sheep, carved in
wood and horribly painted.

But in spite of all this poverty the church was not without some tender
harmonies delightful to choice souls, and set in charming relief by
their own colors. The rich dark tones of the wood relieved the white of
the walls and blended with the triumphal crimson cast on the chancel.
This trinity of color was a reminder of the grand Catholic doctrine.

If surprise was the first emotion roused by this pitiful house of the
Lord, surprise was followed speedily by admiration mingled with pity.
Did it not truly express the poverty of that poor region? Was it not
in harmony with the naive simplicity of the parsonage? The building was
perfectly clean and well-kept. The fragrance of country virtues exhaled
within it; nothing showed neglect or abandonment. Though rustic and
poor and simple, prayer dw