eryday life. There was
a fresh, pure air about the place, as if even angels might have gathered
there in their fair garments. The worshippers, however, on the women's
side were all in black--black dresses, and black kerchiefs over the
heads, like solemn, mourning penitents rather than followers of the
Psalmist who could say, "I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go
into the house of the Lord." There were two exceptions to this sombre
rule.

The seats facing each other on opposite sides of the chancel were
unoccupied, save by a tall young woman and a little girl, who now
hurriedly took their places, and in a formal, perfunctory manner put
down their heads for a supposed private prayer for a blessing on this
opportunity of public worship. They very soon rose up mechanically, and
looked about them with the curious eyes of strangers.

The little girl, nipped, and it seemed almost blasted, by gales of
prosperity, showed a fair, round face, full and soft, and satisfied with
its worldly portion. The mouth, although it looked as if it had tasted
the good things of life, was sweet and loving. Her companion was tall
and strongly built, and somewhat gaily dressed in garments made in every
particular according to the latest fashion. Two long ostrich feathers
lazily lolled on the broad brim of her hat, as much at home as if they
had never known any other abode; and her new kid gloves fitted her
large hands to perfection--a fact of which it was plain she was
conscious.

The clergyman was coming in, with the long black folds which were his
authorized substitute for a gown hanging from the nape of his neck to
the floor. In one hand he carried in full sight a white handkerchief,
held in one corner like a drooping banner of peace.

There was suddenly a counter object of attention for the gay worshippers
in the side pew. A little woman in black came hurrying up the aisle and
entered the seat before them. She put down on the narrow shelf her
prayer-book and a tumbled red handkerchief, and then bowed her head.
Suddenly, in the midst of her devotions, she hastily withdrew the
offending radical handkerchief, and substituted in its place a heavy
linen one, so closely pressed, as if by mangling, that it lay by the
psalm-book as uncompromisingly stiff as itself.

A smile passed over the features of the little girl, and she looked up
into the face of her companion for sympathy. Instead of the responsive
glance she expected, she saw an