s fervor of tone, at
the same time glancing at me with a delighted twinkle in his eye. "I knew
they was up to something. I heered 'em out there;" and he patiently lit
his lantern, and went out to cut the minister free; but the Rev. Mr.
Rivers did not come to the Wallencamp school-house to preach again.

Among those who looked on with quiet approval at this childish and
barbarous performance of the Wallencamp youth, I learned afterwards, were
staid Lovell Barlow and little Bachelor Lot.

Left to their own spiritual devices, the Wallencampers carried on their
evening meetings after methods formerly approved. They rose and
talked--or prayed--or diverted themselves socially--or sang. Everything
they were moved to do, they did.

The lame giant, Godfrey Cradlebow, at seasons when the tide came in,
would pour forth the utterances of his soul with the most earnest
eloquence. At other times, he was morbid and silent, or made skeptical
and sneering remarks aside.

Lovell Barlow, though generally regarded as a believer, had never so far
overcome his natural modesty and reserve as to address the Wallencamp
meeting. But one night, spurred to make the attempt by some of his
malicious and fun-loving compatriots, he surprised us all by rising with
a violent motion from his seat, and making a sudden plunge forward as
though his audience were a cold bath, and he had determined to wade in.

"Boys!" he began, with a most unnatural ferociousness. Then I felt
Lovell's eyes fixed on my face. "And girls, too," he added, more gently;
"and girls, too, certainly, _I_ think so;" he continued; "_I_ think so."
His tone became very feeble. He glanced about with a wild eye for his
hat, grasped it, and went out, and I saw him afterwards, through the
window, standing like a statue, in the moonlight, with his arms folded,
and with a perfectly cold and emotionless cast of countenance.

Among the professors, Godfrey Cradlebow's mother, Aunt Sibylla, with
quite as much fire and less delicacy of expression than characterized the
speech of the strange lame man, was always ready to warn, threaten, and
exhort.

Grandpa Keeler, too, though not subjected to the renovating and
rejuvenating processes of the Sabbath, but just touched up a little here
and there, enough to give him a slight "odor of sanctity," and a saving
sense of personal discomfort, was always led to the meeting, and kept
close by Grandma Keeler's side on the most prominent bench.

When th