way they get rid of that accumulated nervous force which escapes in all
sorts of fidgety movements, so that a minister trying to keep his
congregation still reminds one of a boy with his hand over the nose of a
pump which another boy is working,--this spirting impatience of the
people is so like the jets that find their way through his fingers, and
the grand rush out at the final Amen! has such a wonderful likeness to
the gush that takes place when the boy pulls his hand away, with such
immense relief, as it seems, to both the pump and the officiating
youngster.

How sweet is this blending of all voices and all hearts in one common
song of praise! Some will sing a little loud, perhaps,--and now and then
an impatient chorister will get a syllable or two in advance, or an
enchanted singer so lose all thought of time and place in the luxury of
a closing cadence that he holds on to the last semibreve upon his
private responsibility; but how much more of the spirit of the old
Psalmist in the music of these imperfectly trained voices than in the
academic niceties of the paid performers who take our musical worship
out of our hands!

I am of the opinion that the creed of the Church of the Galileans is not
quite so precisely laid down as that of the Church of Saint Polycarp.
Yet I suspect, if one of the good people from each of those churches had
met over the bed of a suffering fellow-creature, or for the promotion of
any charitable object, they would have found they had more in common
than all the special beliefs or want of beliefs that separated them
would amount to. There are always many who believe that the fruits of a
tree afford a better test of its condition than a statement of the
composts with which it is dressed,--though the last has its meaning and
importance, no doubt.

Between these two churches, then, our young Iris divides her affections.
But I doubt if she listens to the preacher at either with more devotion
than she does to her little neighbor when he talks of these matters.

What does he believe? In the first place, there is some deep-rooted
disquiet lying at the bottom of his soul, which makes him very bitter
against all kinds of usurpation over the right of private judgment. Over
this seems to lie a certain tenderness for humanity in general, bred out
of life-long trial, I should say, but sharply streaked with fiery lines
of wrath at various individual acts of wrong, especially if they come in
an eccles