uetry languishing, like health taking
religion captive, the rector of Princess Anne felt that there is no
medicine for love but love.

They walked together around the square old edifice, among the graves of
Tilghmans, Drydens, Revells, and Beauchamps, and saw the round-capped
windows and double doors in arched brick, and, passing back along the
road, entered the enclosure of the grand old Episcopal church, which was
nearly eighty feet long, and presented its broadside of blackish brick,
and double tier of spacious windows, to the absolute desertion of this
forest place.

The churchyard was a copse of gum-tree and poplar suckers, and berry
bushes, with apple-trees and cedars and wild cherry-trees next above,
and higher still the damp sycamores and maples, growing out of myrtle
nearly knee-deep upon the waves of old graves.

In beautiful carpentry, the thirteen windows on this massive side upheld
in their hand-worked sashes more than four hundred panes of dim glass,
and two great windows in the gable had fifty panes each, and stood firm,
though the wall between them, fifty feet in width, had fallen in, and
been replaced with poorer workmanship. In the opposite gable was another
door that had been forced open, and, as they stepped across the sill, a
crack, like ice first stepped upon, went splitting the long and lofty
vacancy with warning rumbles.

Now the whole interior, in fine perspective, stood exposed, at least
seventy-five by fifty feet, like a majestic hall unbroken by any
side-galleries, and with double stories of windows shedding a hazy
light, and, at the distant end, a low pulpit, with spacious altar. The
walls of this neglected temple were two feet thick, and its high ceiling
was kept from falling down by ten rude wooden props of recent rough
carpentry; the pews were stately, high-fenced things, numbered in white
letters on a black ground, and each four-sided, to contain ten persons;
the rotting damask cushions in many of them told of a former
aristocracy, while now all the congregation could be assembled in a
single pew, and worship was unknown but once a year, when the bishop
came to read his liturgy to dust and desolation.

So, on the opposite western cape of the Chesapeake, shivered the Roman
priests of Calvert's foundation, in the waste of old St. Mary's; the
folds had left the shepherds, and fifty people only came to worship in
the kirk of the earliest Presbyterians.

Two tall, once considered elega