es down upon me. I wonder that so many
years of my life have gone by without giving the day a thought. Surely,
sisters, Christ did not die for the Catholics and Episcopalians alone.

Well, sisters, I did not mean to preach or exhort out of season, but my
heart has been touched, and out of its fulness I have spoken.

"Are we a-going to your High Church?" says I to Cousin E. E. when she
came to my room Friday morning, and asked if I was ready.

"No," says she; "even that does not reach my ideas of what is due to the
occasion. We will go still higher--to St. Stephen's."

"Catholic, isn't it?" says I.

"Yes," says she, with a sigh, "the Mother Church. You will, at least, be
interested."

"I never was in a Catholic meeting-house," says I, "but to-day I feel
like worshipping anywhere, cold as it is."

"Not so cold as our Lord's tomb," says she, shivering a little.

I, too, felt cold chills a-creeping over me.

"Come," she says, "it is time."

XLVIII.

A CHURCH HIGHER YET.

Sisters, we never spoke a word all the way to St. Stephen's Church,
which is not a mite higher, and not near so handsome as a good many
other meeting-houses we had to pass. A crowd of people were going in,
and we followed into the darkness; for the whole space was full of
gloom, like a foggy sunset. Here and there lights shone out like stars
in a cloud, just enough to make the gloom strike home. The church was
shaped like a cross, and had more than one altar in it. That which stood
at the head of the broad aisle had just lights enough around it to make
its whiteness ghostly, and to tremble over a great picture back of it,
where figures in some harrowing scene seemed to come and go in the foggy
air.

Yes, the air was foggy and thick, with sweet-smelling smoke, that came
from some brass lamps a couple of little boys were a swinging back and
forth by chains linked to them; and there, standing right in front of
the altar, was a man all draped out in black robes, and a white
overdress, praying. Sisters, it was awful solemn; I couldn't but just
keep from sobbing right out.

"Look!" says E. E.; "isn't the chapel of the Virgin beautiful?"

I did look; and there at my left stood an altar covered with flowers,
and blazing with lights starting up like a crown of glory through the
darkness.

"Why is that altar so bright, while all the rest of the meeting-house is
almost dark?" I whispers to E. E.

"That is the chapel of the Virgin, and the