en that man in the pulpit took up a
little wooden hammer that lay on the desk before him, and struck it down
with a force that hushed the whole congregation into decency at once.

I was glad of it, and in my innermost heart said "Amen!"

By and by a man got up to exhort. He must have been brought up as a
clerk in some thread-needle store, I should think, by the way he
measured off his long, rolling sentences, that seemed to come through
the bung-hole of an empty cider barrel; and his arms went spreading out
with each sentence, as if he were measuring tape, and meant to give
enough of it.

"Who is that?" says I, whispering to Cousin E. E.

"That," says she, "is a gentleman from ----."

"No doubt he's a member," says I; "how earnest he seeks for protection!"

"Of course he is a member or they wouldn't let him speak," whispers she.

"I know that," says I. "The Presbyterians don't allow any but members
to speak in their meeting, of course; but it seems to me they do a great
deal more talking than praying here, or singing either."

"Oh, I don't believe any one but the chaplain ever thinks of praying
here, and he cuts it short as pie-crust."

"Don't be irreverent," says I.

Cousin E. E. got up from her seat; so did Dempster.

"Come," he said, "I am tired of hearing about salt."

"Especially if the salt has lost its savor," says I, hoping to draw both
their thoughts to the Scriptures, and get them in a proper frame of mind
for the occasion.

"The tax is what I want it to lose," says he, and I saw by his manner
that thoughts of humility and prayer were far from him; so, rather than
join in this mockery of holy things, I followed him out of that
beautiful and sacred edifice, softened, and, I hope, made better by the
service in which my soul had joined.

"Well," says Cousin Dempster, when we stood once more on the stone
carpet of the hall, "how did you like the House?"

"What house?" says I.

"The House of Representatives, to be sure," says he.

"When I have seen it, I can tell you better," says I.

"Oh, nonsense! you have seen it," says he, "in full session, too."

"Look a-here, cousin," says I; "all this morning you've been talking
about old houses and new houses, as if this heap of marble was a green,
with buildings all round it. I've seen the place you call a
rotunda--halls, with scrumptious stone carpets on them, and as fine a
meeting-house as Solomon need have wanted. Now, if you want to show me
that