engaged, according to our English custom, in a short act of private
devotion. When I raised my head and opened my eyes, the very last man
of the congregation was actually making his exit through the doorway;
and it was quite as much as I could manage to put on my top-coat and
gloves and reach the door before the sexton closed it. This rushing
habit in the House of God strikes a stranger as rude and irreverent.
You meet with no indications of private devotion, either preceding or
following public worship. A man marches into his pew, or his pulpit,
sits down, wipes his nose, and stares at all about him; and at the
close, the moment the "Amen" is uttered, he is off with as much speed
as if the house were on fire. In this instance, the service had not
exceeded an hour and a half; and yet they hurried out as if they
thought the beef was all burnt, and the pudding all spoiled. Of course,
there were no thanks to the stranger for his services,--to say nothing
of the _quiddam honorarium_, which to a man travelling for health, at
his own expense, with an invalid wife, might have been supposed not
unacceptable.

When, however, I got to the portico outside, a gentleman, with his
wife, was waiting to see me before they stepped into their carriage.
Here was some token of politeness and hospitality,--an invitation to
dinner, no doubt.--"Thank you, sir, I am very much obliged to you; but
I left my wife very ill at our lodgings this morning, and therefore I
cannot have the pleasure to dine with you to-day," was the civil excuse
I was preparing. Never was expectation more beside the mark. My "guess"
was altogether wrong. "What are you going to do with yourself this
afternoon?" was the gentleman's blunt salutation. "What have _you_ to
propose, sir?" was my reply. "I am the superintendent," he said, "of a
German Sunday-school in the upper part of the city, and I should like
you to come and address the children this afternoon." I promised to go,