lesson to learn, and I was surprised to notice, for the first time, how hard my wife had to work to get the children off to Sunday-school.  They stayed at church—­as they always do—­and for an hour after dinner they got along very well, reading their library books, but then began the labors of the day.  First I heard Joe out in the yard frolicking with the dog, and rousing all the neighborhood with his racket.  Of course I called him in.  Next I heard my wife calling Lucy and Nettie to come down out of the swing.  The next thing Bob was playing horse with the chairs in the parlor.  So it went all the afternoon.  The children had nothing to do.  They could not read Sunday-school books all day.  I am heterodox enough to wonder how they can read them at all—­and of course they got into all sorts of mischief.  And when at last poor Bobby came to me in utter despair, and lisped out, “Papa, what did God make Sunday for?” I broke down.  I gathered the children about me, and proposed to them this evening service.  I told them that if they would learn a hymn every Sunday I would stay at home in the evening with them.  They caught at the idea enthusiastically.  There is no law about it.  They need not learn if they do not want to.  But even Bobby has caught the enthusiasm, and gets a book and goes to his mamma every Sunday afternoon to teach him a verse.  I have given up my class in the Mission, and made one of my Sunday-school Bible-class take it.  I lie down and take a little nap after dinner.  Then I learn my own hymn, and make my preparation for our evening service.  About an hour before tea the children gather about me in the arbor and I read to them.  I have just got Dr. Newton’s “Bible Wonders,” and am reading it chapter by chapter.  My wife takes that opportunity to rest.  The consequence is that we both really get refreshed, instead of jaded out by our Sunday, and I think the children really look forward with anticipations of delight to its coming.  “My Bible,” continued the Deacon good naturedly, “says something about resting on Sunday.  I wish our pastor would tell us what that means sometime.”

I told the Deacon I thought he ought to tell his brethren, at some prayer-meeting, the reason why he stayed away from church; that it was due both to himself and to them.  He agreed to do so.  As for myself I am somewhat puzzled.  I do not want our pastor left to preach to empty pews.  But I am greatly enamored of the Deacon’s second service.

CHAPTER XI.

Our Pastor Resigns.

All Wheathedge is in a fever of excitement.  “Blessings brighten as they take their flight.”  We have just learned that we have enjoyed for these several years the ministry of one of the most energetic, faithful, assiduous, eloquent, and devoted “sons of thunder,” in the State.  We never appreciated our dominie aright till now.  But now no one can praise him too highly.  The cause of this his sudden rise in public estimation is a very simple one.  He has been called to a New York City parish.  And he has accepted the call.