their neighbors along the aisles, a slow and
sluggish stream. The nearest friends passed out side by side with meekly
composed faces, and without greeting each other until they reached the
vestibule. So slow and solemn was the progress out of church, that merry
James Hardwick averred that he saw Deacon Stone, a short fat man, actually
dozing, his eyes softly shutting and opening like a hen's, as he was borne
along by the crowd. The Deacon had been known to sleep while he stood up
in his pew during prayer, but perhaps James's story was rather apocryphal.

Mark Davenport, of course, had been the object of considerable attention
during the day, and at the meeting-house-door numbers of his old
acquaintances gathered round him. No one was more cordial in manner than
Squire Clamp. His face was wrinkled into what were meant for smiles, and
his voice was even smoother and more insinuating than usual. It was only
by a strong effort that Mark gulped down his rising indignation, and
replied civilly.

Sunday in Innisfield ended at sunset, though labor was not resumed until
the next day; but neighbors called upon each other in the twilight, and
talked over the sermons of the day, and the affairs of the church and
parish. That evening, while Mr. Hardwick's family were sitting around the
table reading, a long growl was heard from Caesar at the door, followed by
an emphatic "Get out!" The growls grew fiercer, and James went to the door
to see what was the matter. Squire Clamp was the luckless man. The dog had
seized his coat-tail, and had pulled it forward, so that he stood face to
face with the Squire, who was vainly trying to free himself by poking at
his adversary with a great baggy umbrella. James sent away the dog with a
reprimand, but laughed as he followed the angry man into the house. He
always cited this afterwards as a new proof of the sagacity of the grim
and uncompromising Caesar.

"S-sorry you've had such a t-time with the dog," said Mr. Hardwick; "he
don't g-ginerally bark at pup-people."

"Oh, no matter," said the Squire, contemplating the measure of damage in
the skirt of his coat. "A good, sound sermon Mr. Rook gave us to-day. The
doctrines of the decrees and sovereignty, and the eternal destruction of
the impenitent, were strongly set forth."

"Y-yes, I sp-spose so. I d-don't profit so m-much by that inst-struction,
however. I th-think more of the e-every-day religion he u-usually
preaches."--Mr. Hardwick trotted