the street. Children with bright faces tripped merrily beside their
parents or mimicked a graver gait in the conscious dignity of their
Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty
maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than
on week-days. When the throng had mostly streamed into the porch, the
sexton began to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr.
Hooper's door. The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was the
signal for the bell to cease its summons.

[Footnote 1: Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of
York, Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself
remarkable by the same eccentricity that is here related of the
Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a different
import. In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend, and
from that day till the hour of his own death he hid his face from
men.]

"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried the sexton,
in astonishment.

All within hearing immediately turned about and beheld the semblance
of Mr. Hooper pacing slowly his meditative way toward the
meeting-house. With one accord they started, expressing more wonder
than if some strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr.
Hooper's pulpit.

"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Gray of the sexton.

"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "He was to
have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute of Westbury, but Parson Shute