Perhaps it would be wiser to add a little more wine. It was Easter
Sunday. Many members of the congregation were farmers and farm
labourers. He had vivid remembrances in his mind of having forcibly
to take the cup from the lips of such as these. They meant no
irreverence by it, of course. He imagined it to be habit in great
part with them, and a smile flickered over his face as the thought
crossed his mind.

Yes--certainly, he had better add a little more wine--just a little.
If there were some over, why, naturally it would have to be consumed.
Wine once consecrated must not be kept. There is that fear that it
might become an object of worship, than which no other thought can
seem more fearsome to the Anglican mind. He might have to drink it;
but there would only be a little in any case; yet, not being
accustomed, with the poor stipend which he received, to the taste
of such luxuries, it might perhaps--it might--well, so little as
there would be, could scarcely lift his spirits. And if it did, could
that really be considered a harmful result? On mature consideration,
he thought it better to add a little more wine. It would save them
from the contingency of a longer service than was already necessary.
He poured in the little more, and the silver jug was now a little
more than three parts full.

Mr. Windle's lozenge was well dissolved and swallowed before the
anthem was finished, and the service went through without a break.
The Rev. Samuel preached one of the sermons which he had written in
his younger days for the season of Easter. He bade his congregation
raise their heads and begin life again with new vigour, new hope in
their hearts, for this was the third day, the day their Lord had risen