e as snow, with
large-paned windows, and green Venetian blinds. It had a tall slender
spire, in which hung the first bell that had ever wakened the echoes in
that part of the country for miles around, and of the church and the
bell, and the pretty tree-shaded common before it, the Gershom people
were not a little proud.

Behind the church lay the graveyard, already a populous place, as the
few tall monuments and the many less pretentious slabs of grey or white
stone showed. It was inclosed by a white fence tipped with black, and
shaded by many young trees, and it was a quiet and pleasant place.
Between the church and the graveyard was a long row of wooden sheds.
They were not ornamental, quite the contrary; but they were very useful
as a shelter for the horses of the church-goers who came from a
distance, and they had been added by way of conciliating the North Gore
people when one and another of them began to come to the village church.

Toward the church one fair Sabbath morning in June, many Gershom people
were hastening. Already there were vehicles of great variety in the
sheds, and horses were tied here and there along the fences under the
trees. There were groups of people lingering in Gershom fashion on the
church steps and on the grass, and the numbers, and the air of
expectation over all, indicated that the occasion was one of more than
usual interest. All Gershom had turned out hoping to see and hear the
new minister, whose coming was to bean assurance of peace to the church
and to the congregation. They were to be disappointed for that day,
however, for the minister had not come. Squire Holt and his son and
daughter came with the rest. The old man lingered at the gate
exchanging greetings with his neighbours, and the young people went on
toward the door.

"Gershom is the place after all, Lizzie," said her brother. "It is
pleasant to see all the folks again. But I don't believe I'm going to
stay to see Jacob through this business. Well! never mind, Lizzie," he
added, as his sister looked grave. "I'll see you through, if you say
so. And here come Ben and Cousin Betsey; let us wait and speak to
them."

"Clifton," said his sister, earnestly, "Ben is Cousin Betsey's best hand
this summer. It won't do to beguile him from his work, dear. You must
not try it."

"Nonsense, Elizabeth. It is rather soon to come down on a fellow like
that, before I have even spoken to him. I never made Ben idle, qu