derly clerk should dream of
all this during the three last verses of a hymn? Well, the steadiest
imagination is apt to disregard sometimes the proprieties of place; and
as for space--of course the visions of the night are quicker on the wing
than their rivals of the day; yet there must be some analogy, and, they
say, we pass through the vicissitudes of half a lifetime in the few
seconds before we wake.

Cecil was really pleased with the result of the singing. She would have
been even more so had it not been for the marked expression of approval
on the face of Royston Keene. It was evident she had been on her trial.
The cool, tranquil, appreciative smile was very provoking. It made her
feel for the moment like a _prima donna_ on her first appearance at a
new theatre.

Unusually eloquent and verbose was the sermon that day, for not only was
the preacher aware that bright eyes looked upon his deeds, but he saw
his enemies in the front of the battle. Surely all extemporaneous
speakers, in court, pulpit, or senate, must be accessible to such
external influences. It ought not to be so, of course, but I fancy it
_is_. Would John Knox have been so fiery in denunciation if those wicked
maids of honor had not derided him? I doubt if a discourse delivered in
a Union would ever soar to sublimity, even if the excellent paupers
could be supposed to understand it. So, with every sentence more
plaintive grew Mr. Fullarton's lamentations over worldlings and their
vanities, more bitter his invectives against those who, having
themselves broken out of the fold, seek to lead others astray. An
occasional gesture--something too expressive--was not needed to point
his animadversions. The object of them sat with his head slightly bent,
neither by frown nor smile betraying that a single allusion had gone
home. The simple truth was, that he scarcely caught one word. The last
cadence of sweeter tones was still lingering in his ears, and had locked
them fast against all other sounds. The energetic divine might have
poured out upon his guilty head yet stormier vials, and he would never
have heard one roll of the thunder. However, the dearest friends must
part, and all orations must come to an end, except those of the
much-desiderated Chisholm Anstey, of whom an old-world parliament was
not worthy; so, after "a burst of forty-five minutes without a check,"
the chaplain dismissed his beloved hearers to their digestion.

The stream, as it flowed ou