, and entirely gained their
attention.

Beneath a quiet exterior Rowland hid a romantic and poetic mind, which
few, if any of his friends knew anything about; for he had never shown
his poetry to them, and never attempted to publish it. But it sometimes
appeared, in spite of his efforts to repress it, in his sermons; and now
it made a desperate effort to burst forth, and conquered.

There was so much to excite the enthusiasm of a young preacher in that
harvest-home gathering--in the mows of golden corn heaped up against the
future--in the splendid autumn weather they were then enjoying--in the
bright sunshine and many-hued leaves of the changing trees--and the
goodness of God crowning the whole!

I am not going through his sermon, for I should only mar what his
feelings made powerful. Suffice it to say that some of his friends had
tears in their eyes as he preached; others, according to the custom of
their country, uttered occasional exclamations of approval as he went
on, and some were glad to own him as their near and dear relation.

Perhaps the proudest moment of the farmer's life was when Mr Gwynne went
up to him after that short discourse, and shook him by the hand, with
the words--emphatic words for him--

'Well, Prothero, I congratulate you upon your son. You have reason to be
proud of him. He managed his sermon well at a short notice, clear,
poetical, etc., and all that sort of thing.'

The abrupt termination to the speech was occasioned by the approach of
Lady Mary Nugent, who also congratulated Mr Prothero.

'Thank you, sir; thank your ladyship; glad you approve,' was all the
proud father could say, with the tears in his eyes all the while.

As to Rowland, he was undergoing an ovation of hand-shakings and praises
from everybody present, which he was fain to put an end to, by beginning
to organise the procession to the tent. One simple sentence, however,
rang in his ears for the remainder of that day.

'Thank you, Mr Rowland, for your sermon. I hope you have done us all
good,' said Miss Gwynne.

She began to think more highly of him than she had ever thought before,
and owned to Miss Hall that he had words at command, and that at a short
notice.

The procession was very pretty. The school-children walked two and two,
and looked like so many large scarlet poppies, as they wended their way
through the avenue. Miss Gwynne gave them all their outer garments, and
it was her picturesque and pleasing fanc