Divers Women | Page 3

was
not for him to manage. If he had had their duty as well as his own to
answer for what would have become of him!
Despite the looking at watches, the cases of which would make an
explosive noise, and the audible yawning that occasionally sounded
near him, the minister was enabled to carry his sermon through to the
close, helped immeasurably by those aforesaid earnest eyes that never
turned their gaze from his face, nor let their owners' attention flag for
an instant. Then followed the solemn hymn, than which there is surely
no more solemn one in the English language. Imagine that
congregation after listening, or professing to listen, to such a sermon as
I have suggested, from such a text as I have named, standing and
hearing rolled forth from magnificent voices such words as these:--
"In all my vast concerns with thee, In vain my soul would try To shun
thy presence, Lord, or flee The notice of thine eye.
"My thoughts lie open to the Lord Before they're formed within; And
ere my lips pronounce the word He knows the sense I mean.
"Oh, wondrous knowledge, deep and high! Where can a creature hide!
Within thy circling arm I lie, Inclosed on every side."
Follow that with the wonderful benediction. By the way, did you ever
think of that benediction--of its fulness? "The grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ, the love of God, the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you
all. Amen." Following that earnest amen--nay, did it follow, or was it
blended with the last syllable of that word, so nearly that word seemed
swallowed in it--came the roll of that twenty-thousand-dollar organ.
What did the organist select to follow that sermon, that hymn, that
benediction? Well, what was it? Is it possible that that familiar strain
was the old song, "Comin' Through the Rye"? No, it changes; that is the
ring of "Money Musk." Anon there is a touch--just a dash, rather--of
"Home, Sweet Home," and then a bewilderment of sounds, wonderfully
reminding one of "Dixie" and of "Way down upon the Suwanee River,"
and then suddenly it loses all connection with memory, and rolls, and

swells, and thunders, and goes off again into an exquisite tinkle of
melody that makes an old farmer--for there was here and there an old
farmer even in that modern church--murmur as he shook hands with a
friend, "Kind of a dancing jig that is, ain't it?"
To the sound of such music the congregation trip out. Half-way down
the aisle Mrs. Denton catches the fringe of Mrs. Ellison's shawl.
"Excuse me," she says, "but I was afraid you would escape me, and I
have so much to do this week. I want you to come in socially on
Tuesday evening; just a few friends; an informal gathering; tea at eight,
because the girls want a little dance after it. Now come early."
Just in front of these two ladies a group have halted to make inquiries.
"Where is Fanny to-day? Is she sick?"
"Oh, no. But the truth is her hat didn't suit, and she sent it back and
didn't get it again. She waited till one o'clock, but it didn't come.
Milliners are growing so independent and untrustworthy! I told Fanny
to wear her old hat and never mind, but she wouldn't. Estelle and
Arthur have gone off to the Cathedral this morning. Absurd, isn't it? I
don't like to have them go so often. It looks odd. But Arthur runs wild
over the music there. I tell him our music is good enough, but he
doesn't think so."
"I don't know what the trouble is, but the young people do not seem to
be attracted to our church," the elder lady says, and she says it with a
sigh. She belongs to that class of people who always say things with a
sigh.
Further on Mrs. Hammond has paused to say that if the weather
continues so lovely she thinks they would better have that excursion
during the week. The gardens will be in all their glory. Tell the girls she
thinks they better settle on Wednesday as the day least likely to have
engagements. The lady knows that she is mentioning the day for the
regular church prayer-meeting, and she is sending word to members of
the church. But what of that?

"I'm tired almost to death," says Mrs. Edwards, "We have been
house-cleaning all the week, and it is such a trial, with inefficient help.
I wouldn't have come to church at all to-day but the weather was so
lovely, and we have so few days in this climate when one can wear
anything decent it seemed a pity to lose one. Have you finished
house-cleaning?"
At the foot of the