chance to see dancing vines, or flying birds, or falling rains, or other
"meteors outside," if the preacher proved dull or the hymns undevout.
But I found my attention was well held within. Not that the preaching
was anything to be repeated. The sermon was short, unpretending, but
alive and devout. It was a sonnet, all on one theme; that theme pressed,
and pressed, and pressed again, and, of a sudden, the preacher was done.
"You say you know God loves you," he said. "I hope you do, but I am
going to tell you once more that he loves you, and once more and once
more." What pleased me in it all was a certain unity of service, from
the beginning to the end. The congregation's singing seemed to suggest
the prayer; the prayer seemed to continue in the symphony of the organ;
and, while I was in revery, the organ ceased; but as it was ordered, the
sermon took up the theme of my revery, and so that one theme ran through
the whole. The service was not ten things, like the ten parts of a
concert, it was one act of communion or worship. Part of this was due, I
guess, to this, that we were in a small church, sitting or kneeling near
each other, close enough to get the feeling of communion,--not parted,
indeed, in any way. We had been talking together, as we stood in the
churchyard before the service began, and when we assembled in the church
the sense of sympathy continued. I told Kleone that I liked the home
feeling of the church, and she was pleased. She said she was afraid I
should have preferred the cathedral. There were four large cathedrals,
open, as the churches were, to all the town; and all the clergy, of
whatever order, took turns in conducting the service in them. There were
seven successive services in each of them that Sunday. But each
clergyman had his own special charge beside,--I should think of not more
than a hundred families. And these families, generally neighbors in the
town, indeed, seemed, naturally enough, to grow into very familiar
personal relations with each other.

* * * * *

I asked Philip one day how long his brother George would hold his office
of host, or Proxenus. Philip turned a little sharply on me, and asked if
I had any complaints to make, being, in fact, rather a quick-tempered
person. I soothed him by explaining that all that I asked about was the
tenure of office in their system, and he apologized.

"He will be in as long as he chooses, probably. In theory, he