aiting to speak to his minister, and even the
children were edging up to him with expectant faces. "He always brings us
apples," my little lad explained to me in a whisper.

With entire change of voice he turned to Mr. Bowen and said:--"How fares
it with you, brother, in the darkness?"

"Well, all is well."

In low, sympathetic tones he asked:--"He still provides songs in the
night?"

"Yes, almost as sweet as if Heaven itself were stooping to hear."

"You have learned the secret God reveals to but few of us."

"Ah, brother, the fault is all in us, not in Him. Gracious as he is to
me, all might share with me in this blessed inheritance."

Mr. Lathrop turned to me. "Our friend here certainly has meat to eat of
which very few get the full taste."

"I did not know there could be such joy in religion. It is a revelation
to me, sir."

"Yes, we go out of our way to help others, not expecting to be repaid,
and sometimes one of God's angels meets us in human guise, and brings us
a blessing compared with which our poor gift sinks into insignificance."
He spoke to me in a low-tone. Mr. Bowen could not hear; indeed he seemed
never to notice conversation not addressed to him personally. I fancied
that his own thoughts were more agreeable than average conversation.
I stood uncertainly, longing to remain to hear more of the conversation
passing between these two men, but afraid I might thereby violate some
unwritten social code. I knew very little of the relation between pastor
and people at that time, especially in America.

Mrs. Blake possibly read my face. She came to me and said:--"Won't you
stay to prayers? I guess most all the churches'll listen to each other
reading the Scripters and praying. I know they'd take it as a favor." She
tried to speak softly but Mrs. Blake's voice had not been trained to fine
modulations, and I felt certain Mr. Lathrop overheard her remark.

"I would like to stay if I am not intruding."

"I guess the best of Christians never reckon folks in the way when
they're praying together, though I shouldn't say much about them, not
being one myself," she said, dryly.

I sat down quite near to Mr. Bowen. I wanted to study his face, and as I
listened in silence, the conversation between the pastor and this member
of his flock was a new and beautiful revelation to me. The one seemed to
help the other, while no stain of worldliness marred the even flow of
their words. After awhile Mrs. Blake handed