en Stone. At
this time, Stone was about twenty-nine years old, of slender build,
refined features, earnest mien, and childlike simplicity--"an Israelite
indeed in whom was no guile." This third Sunday in October was the day
for the regular quarterly communion service, and the emblems of the
sacred feast were spread upon the table in front of the pulpit.
Extending his hand, the speaker reverently pronounced his text: "Put
off the shoes from off thy feet; for the place whereon thou standest is
holy ground" (Ex. 3:5).

[Illustration: _Barton Warren Stone._]

After pausing a moment that the words of the text might have due
impressiveness, Stone proceeded. He explained that the command in its
spiritual significance was still as imperative upon God's people when
they entered the house dedicated to his service, as it had been in its
literal sense to Moses when he had stood face to face with Jehovah at
the foot of Mount Horeb. The speaker's musical accents fixed the
attention of every hearer, and his words impressed every heart with the
solemnity befitting the place and the hour.

As soon as the people were dismissed for the noontide intermission,
they scattered about the grounds, talking, laughing, and setting out,
upon the table-cloths spread upon the grass, the luncheons which they
had brought with them.

While these preparations were in progress, Dudley started off with
Henry to look after the horses. Before reaching the grove where they
were tethered, he was hailed by Major and Mrs. Gilcrest with a cordial
invitation to "break bread" at their table--an invitation which he,
thinking of the beautiful niece, gladly accepted. He followed his host
and hostess to a cluster of trees under which Abby Patterson and Betsy
Gilcrest, assisted by their dusky servitors, had already spread a
repast which an epicure might have envied. But to one, at least, of the
guests it mattered little what viands were served; for young Dudley was
soon enthralled by the witchery of the blue eyes, rose-tinted
complexion and low-toned voice of the girl beside him. He was conscious
the while of little else save an unreasoning animosity for a young man
in powdered queue, flowered satin waistcoat, frilled shirt, and silver
knee buckles, who sat at Miss Patterson's other hand, between her and
Miss Gilcrest. This man, James Anson Drane, of Lexington, lawyer and
land agent, notwithstanding Dudley's jealous fancies, divided his
attentions almost equally be