while with us it flames and
sparkles."

"The same stream," suggested the first, "but ours breaks easier into
flood."

"Well, I hope the flood will bear her back to her native shore," said
the youngest member of the committee, who was a colonel, having been
born during the Civil War.

We all laughed pleasantly at our racial distinctions and the gentlemen
withdrew.

"We will not tell you good-bye, for we hope to see you soon again," was
the last word I heard, the Southern idiom and the Southern cordiality
both in evidence.

Definite action on the part of the Charleston church soon followed the
return of their representatives. And I knew not what to do.

In the hope of relieving my perplexity, I accepted an invitation to
spend a Sabbath with the St. Andrew's people and occupy their proffered
pulpit.

My heart had sore misgivings when I said good-bye to Issie Hogg; her
years were but thirteen; and every year had bound her closer and closer
to my heart till I knew she was more dear to me than any other child
save one. The sands of life were nearly run and I feared greatly lest
they might be spent before I should return.

New Jedboro was winter-wrapped when I left it, and, taking steamer from
New York, I disembarked at Charleston into almost intoxicating
sweetness. Their dear South land was aflame with early summer, and my
idea of Paradise was revised. How could these Southern hearts be
otherwise than warm and fragrant! All the land about seemed like
nature's temple breathing forth its silent anthem and celebrating its
perpetual mass.

Yet all its vernal beauty seemed but as a portal to the inner shrine,
the sanctuary of Southern hospitality. Which hospitality is a separate
brand and hath no rival this side the Gates of Pearl. Let all who would
feel the surprise of heaven's welcome forego the luxury of a visit to a
Southern home; for they have stolen that celestial fire to kindle their
waiting hearths.

I was committed to the care of one of the families of St. Andrew's whose
household numbered five; and every heart had many doors all open wide.
That is, open wide till you had entered, for then they seemed tight
closed, locked with a golden key. Ancient pride seemed to be their
family possession, never flaunted, but suppressed rather--and you knew
it only because your own heart acknowledged that this must be its
rightful dwelling place.

I noted again the pleasing custom of Southern ladies, who shake hands on