to be heard by all, "that such a young
upstart and hypocrite should be allowed to worm himself into Mr.
Quaver's seat." She hated Paul, and determined to put him down if
possible.

Paul went home from church pleased that the school had done so well, and
grateful for all the kind words he heard; but as he retired for the
night, and thought over what had taken place,--when he realized that he
was the leader of the choir, and that singing was a part of divine
worship,--when he considered that he had fifty young folks to
direct--and that it would require a steady hand to keep them straight,
he felt very sober. As these thoughts, one by one, came crowding upon
him, he felt that he could not bear so great a responsibility. Then he
reflected that life is made up of responsibilities, and that it was his
duty to meet them manfully. If he cringed before, or shrank from them,
and gave them the go-by, he would be a coward, and never would
accomplish anything. No one would respect him, and he would not even
have any respect for himself. "I won't back out!" he said, resolving to
do the best he could.

Very pleasant were the days. Spring had come with its sunshine and
flowers. The birds were in their old haunts,--the larks in the meadows,
the partridges in the woods, the quails in the fields. Paul was as happy
as they, singing from morning till night the tunes he had learned; and
when his day's work was over, he was never too wearied to call upon
Daphne with Azalia, and sing till the last glimmer of daylight faded
from the west,--Azalia playing the piano, and their voices mingling in
perfect harmony. How pleasant the still hours with Azalia beneath the
old elms, which spread out their arms above them, as if to pronounce a
benediction,--the moonlight smiling around them,--the dews perfuming the
air with the sweet odors of roses and apple-blooms,--the cricket
chirping his love-song to his mate,--the river forever flowing, and
sweetly chanting its endless melody!

Sometimes they lingered by the way, and laughed to hear the grand chorus
of bull-frogs croaking among the rushes of the river, and the echoes of
their own voices dying away in the distant forest. And then, standing in
the gravelled walk before the door of Azalia's home, where the flowers
bloomed around them, they looked up to the stars, shining so far away,
and talked of choirs of angels, and of those who had gone from earth to
heaven, and were singing the song of the Redeem