they had been wooden images. His spirit had been strained to its
uttermost, and would bear no more. He made his way home with an
ungainly, swift gait,--home to the dear bedside,--down upon his
knees,--struggling with his weakness,--praying.

At the tea-hour Esther knocked; but in vain. An hour after, his boy
came,--came at the old woman's suggestion, (who had now the care of
him,) and knelt by his side.

"Reuben,--my boy!"

"She's in heaven, isn't she, father?"

"God only knows, my son. He hath mercy on whom He will have mercy."

Small as he was, the boy flushed at this:--

"I think it's a bad God, if she isn't in heaven.'

"Nay, Reuben, little one, blaspheme not: His ways are not as our ways.
Kiss her now, and we will sit down to our supper."

And so they passed out together to their lonely repast. It had been a
cheerful meal in days gone, this Sunday's supper. For the dinner, owing
to the scruples of the parson, was but a cold lunch always; and in the
excited state in which the preacher found himself between services,
there was little of speech; even Reuben's prattle, if he ventured upon
it, caught a quick "Hist!" from the mamma. But with the return of Esther
from the afternoon Bible-class, there was a big fire lighted in the
kitchen, and some warm dishes served, such as diffused an appetizing
odor through the house. The clergyman, too, wore an air of relief,
having preached his two sermons, and showing a capital appetite, like
most men who have acquitted themselves of a fatiguing duty. Besides
which, the parson guarded that old New England custom of beginning his
Sabbath at sundown on Saturday,--so that, by the time the supper of
Sunday was fairly over, Reuben could be counting it no sin, if he should
steal a run into the orchard. Nay, it is quite probable that the poor
little woman who was dead had always welcomed cheerily the opened door
of Sunday evening, and the relaxing gravity, as night fell, of her
husband's starched look.

What wonder, if she had loved, even as much as the congregational
singing, the music of the birds at the dusk of a summer's day? It was
hard measure which many of the old divines meted out, in excluding from
their ideas of worship all alliance with the charms of Nature, or indeed
with any beauties save those which were purely spiritual. It is certain
that the poor woman had enjoyed immensely those Sabbath-evening strolls
through the garden and orchard, hand in hand with Reuben and