antial.
A real substance is the mind, with its thoughts and affections.
Forms built there do not decay. How perfectly had I retained in
memory the home of my childhood! Not a leaf had withered, not a
flower had faded; nothing had fallen under the scythe of time. The
greenness and perfection of all were as the mind had received them
twenty years before. But the material things themselves had, in that
brief space, passed almost wholly away. Yes; it is in the mind that
we must seek for real substance.

Slowly and sadly I turned from the hallowed place, and went back
towards the village inn. No interest for anything in Brookdale
remained, and no surprise was created at the almost total
obliteration of the old landmarks apparent on every hand. My purpose
was to leave the place by the early stage that morning, and seek to
forget that I had ever returned to the home of my childhood.

My way was past the old village church where, Sabbath after Sabbath,
for nearly fifteen years, I had met with the worshippers; and as I
drew nearer and nearer the sacred place, I was more and more
impressed with the fact that, if change had been working busily all
around, his hand had spared the holy edifice. That change had been
there was plainly to be seen, but he had lingered only a moment,
laying his hand gently, as he paused, on the ancient pile. New and
tenderer feelings came over me. I could not pass the village church,
and so I entered it once more, although it was yet too early for the
worshippers to assemble. How familiar all! A year seemed not to have
intervened since I had stood beneath that roof. The deep, arched
windows, the antique pulpit and chancel, the old gallery and organ,
the lofty roof, but most of all the broad tablet above the pulpit,
and the words "Reverence my Sanctuary: I am the Lord," were as
familiar as the face of a dear friend. There was change all around,
but no change here in the house of God.

Seating myself in the old family pew, I gave my mind up to a flood
of crowding associations; and there I sat, scarcely conscious of the
passing time, until the bell sounded clear above me its weekly
summons to the worshippers. And soon they began to assemble, one
after another coming in, and silently taking their places. Conscious
that I was intruding, I yet remained in the old family pew. It
seemed as if I could not leave it--as if I must sit there and
hearken once more to the words of life. And I was there when the
ri