All at once a blinding flash would come over him the lines of his
sermon would run together, the fresh manuscript would shrivel like a dead
leaf, and the rows of hard-hearted theology on the shelves before him,
and the broken-backed Concordance, and the Holy Book itself, would fade
away as he gave himself up to the enchantment of his delirious dream.

The reader will probably consider it a discreet arrangement that pretty
Susan Posey should seek her pastor in grave company. Mrs. Hopkins
willingly consented to the arrangement which had been proposed, and
agreed to go with the young lady on her visit to the Rev. Mr. Stoker's
study. They were both arrayed in their field-day splendors on this
occasion. Susan was lovely in her light curls and blue ribbons, and the
becoming dress which could not help betraying the modestly emphasized
crescendos and gently graded diminuendos of her figure. She was as round
as if she had been turned in a lathe, and as delicately finished as if
she had been modelled for a Flora. She had naturally an airy toss of the
head and a springy movement of the joints, such as some girls study in
the glass (and make dreadful work of it), so that she danced all over
without knowing it, like a little lively bobolink on a bulrush. In
short, she looked fit to spoil a homily for Saint Anthony himself.

Mrs. Hopkins was not less perfect in her somewhat different style. She
might be called impressive and imposing in her grand-costume, which she
wore for this visit. It was a black silk dress, with a crape shawl, a
firmly defensive bonnet, and an alpaca umbrella with a stern-looking and
decided knob presiding as its handle. The dried-leaf rustle of her silk
dress was suggestive of the ripe autumn of life, bringing with it those
golden fruits of wisdom and experience which the grave teachers of
mankind so justly prefer to the idle blossoms of adolescence.

It is needless to say that the visit was conducted with the most perfect
propriety in all respects. Mrs. Hopkins was disposed to take upon
herself a large share of the conversation. The minister, on the other
hand, would have devoted himself more particularly to Miss Susan, but,
with a very natural make-believe obtuseness, the good woman drew his fire
so constantly that few of his remarks, and hardly any of his insinuating
looks, reached the tender object at which they were aimed. It is
probable that his features or tones betrayed some impatience at ha