ever faded till the
sermon was ended. Deacon Plummer coughed nervously, and changed his
position so as to cover his mouth with his hand. Angy put her head down on
the front of the pew and began to cry.

"Render, therefore, unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's and unto God
the things that are God's," came in clear ringing tones from Draxy's lips.
Then she proceeded, in simple and gentle words, to set forth the right of
every man to his own opinions and convictions; the duty of having earnest
convictions and acting up to them in all the affairs of life. George
Thayer and the Deacon looked easier. Her words seemed, after all, rather a
justification of their vehemence of feeling.

But when she came to speak of the "things that are God's," her words
pierced their very souls. The only thing that enabled George Thayer to
bear up under it at all was, as he afterwards said in the store, keeping
his "eyes fixed steady on old Plummer," "'cause, you know, boys, I never
jined the church nor made any kind o' profession o' goin' in for any
things o' God's, nohow; not but what I've often wished I could see my way
to: but sez I to myself, ef he kin stan' it I kin, an' so I held out. But
I tell you, boys, I'd rather drive the wust six-hoss team I ever got hold
on down Breakneck Hill 'n the dark, than set there agin under thet woman's
eyes, a blazin' one minnit, 'n fillin' with tears the next: 'n' I don't
care what anybody sez; I'm a goin' to see her an' tell her that she
needn't be afeard o' ever hevin to preach to me s' good s' by my name, in
the meeting 'us agin, by thunder!"

"Suppose the blessed Saviour had come walking through our streets, looking
for his children last Wednesday," said Draxy, "He would say to himself,
'I shall know them, wherever I find them: I have given them so many
badges, they will be sure to be wearing some of them. They suffer long and
are kind; they envy not, vaunt not, are not puffed up: they are not easily
provoked, think no evil, seek not their own, rejoice in the truth; they do
not behave unseemly.' Alas, would the dear Jesus have turned away,
believing Himself a stranger and friendless in our village? Which one of
you, dear men, could have sprung forward to take him by the hand? What
terrible silence would have fallen upon you as he looked round on your
angry faces!"

Tears were rolling down little Reuby's face. Slyly he tried to wipe them
away, first with one hand, then with the other, lest his m