very birds sang in a subdued and still triumphant tone, as if they knew ’twas holy time; while the dumb cattle, feeding on the road, cropped the brown grass noiselessly.  Gliding down the broad stairway, I opened the study door.  The pastor was there, and I saw by the open book, with the cushion before it still deeply indented, that he had been kneeling.  He advanced with his usual good-humored smile, while his voice had the mellowed sweetness of one who had been on the mount speaking face to face with the King of kings.

“I question if the Sabbath is as beautiful in the larger towns,” said the pastor, leading me to the deep window.

Below, the garden sloped away to a considerable distance, and the flowers still sparkling with the dewdrops lifted their heads timidly.  “You see there is some compensation for our solitude; with less temptations to draw away our thoughts, we are privileged to go up through these temple gates from glory to glory.  Did you ever see anything more grand and inspiring?” and he stepped out on to the balcony, and pointed me to a range of hills ascending gradually till the top seemed to reach the clouds.

    “Here linger yet the showers of fire,
    Deep in each fold, high on each spire
    On yonder mountain proud.”

Up the walk came Maude, leading by the hand the little Lotchen, the prattle of the child showing the lesson the mother had been attempting to teach.  Beautiful such a Sabbath! and my heart felt refreshed as I stood upon the threshold and looked out into the new day.

“We used to work together in Basle,” said the pastor as we seated ourselves at the breakfast-table, “suppose we make the effort to-day.”

“That will depend upon the portion that falls to my share,” I replied.

“Give him the pulpit, Heinrich,” said Maude naively.

“I am not sure that I wish him to fill it,” replied the pastor with a smile.

“I more than half wish I could,” came to my lips unbidden, and I could hardly keep the tears as I thought of the few months it had been mine to labor in this manner, then of that fearful illness, the loss of voice, and the journey to regain health and strength to be spent in His service.

“You remember the old Bible class,” said Wagner; “I have one here, or rather two, for we meet twice a day, some finding it more convenient to come in the morning and others after service, so that my time is pretty well filled.”

“And you would give me one of the classes,” I said, as Maude filled my coffee cup the second time.

“This is what I propose to do.”

“And I accept most cheerfully.”

“We have but a little time; in an hour you will be ready,” and the pastor went to his study.

An hour afterwards the street was full of eager faces, all going to the house of God, quiet and calm, but still cheerful and happy, stopping to interchange greetings with each other, above all glad of a welcoming look and smile from the pastor.  I soon saw wherein was the charm; sympathizing and kindly affectioned toward his people the pastor interested himself in the little history of each, neglecting no one, and especially attentive to the poor and feeble aged ones of his flock.  All loved him as a pastor, and by reason of this he persuaded them the more easily.