ittle. Bohm, it seemed, did not often speak himself: possibly once a
week. His way was to let other people speak to him when there were signs
in his face that he was hearing anything which they said, it was a high
compliment to them, and of course Charley could command Bohm's ear; for
Charley, although he was as neat as any barber, and let Hortense walk on
him because he looked beyond that, and purposed to get her, was just as
potent in the financial world as Bohm, could bring a borrowing empire
to his own terms just as skillfully as could Bohm; was, in short, a
man after Bohm's own--I had almost said heart: the expression is so
obstinately embedded in our language! Bohm, listening, and Charley,
talking, had neither of them noticed Mrs. Weguelin's arrival; they
stood ignoring her, while she waited, casting a timid eye upon them.
But Beverly, suddenly perceiving this, and begging her pardon for them,
brought the party together, and we moved in among the old graves.

"Ah!" said Gazza, bending to read the quaint words cut upon one of them,
as we stopped while the door at the rear of the church was being opened,
"French!"

"It was the mother-tongue of these colonists," Mrs. Weguelin explained
to him.

"Ah! like Canada!" cried Gazza. "But what a pretty bit is that!" And he
stood back to admire a little glimpse, across a street, between tiled
roofs and rusty balconies, of another church steeple. "Almost, one would
say, the Old World," Gazza declared.

"Our world is not new," said Mrs. Weguelin; and she passed into the
church.

Kings Port holds many sacred nooks, many corners, many vistas, that
should deeply stir the spirit and the heart of all Americans who know
and love their country. The passing traveller may gaze up at certain
windows there, and see History herself looking out at him, even as she
looks out of the windows of Independence Hall in Philadelphia. There are
also other ancient buildings in Kings Port, where History is shut up, as
in a strong-box,--such as that stubborn old octagon, the powder-magazine
of Revolutionary times, which is a chest holding proud memories of blood
and war. And then there are the three churches. Not strong-boxes, these,
but shrines, where burn the venerable lamps of faith. And of these three
houses of God, that one holds the most precious flame, the purest
light, which treasures the holy fire that came from France. The English
colonists, who sat in the other two congregations, came t