pleasure, and partly from awe, running up his back, and a strong pain
across his forehead, seldom known to one of his temperament. Again and
again he drew his hand across his brows, until he felt that he was
near swooning, and like to fall; and he clung desperately to his hold.
When the fit was over, he dared venture no more, but hastened to the
ground.

It was no fear of ridicule or of incredulity that led Nathan Stoddard
to keep secret what he had witnessed. But it was like some deep and
holy experience that would lose its charm if it were spoken of to
another. So he went back to his shop, and sat looking upon the church,
and watching, almost with dread, the doves that lighted upon its roof,
and fluttered about, and beat their wings against its windows.

The minister of Nathan's parish was a young man by the name of Dudley;
and it so happened that he had driven out, before light, on the
morning we have spoken of, to visit a sick man at some distance. In
returning home, he had to pass along the rather unfrequented street
which runs in the rear of his church, and close to it. As he was
driving rapidly along, his ear caught what seemed the peal of an
organ. He stopped his horse to listen, and a moment convinced him that
the sound both of the instrument and of singing voices came from his
own church; and it was music of a depth and beauty such as he had
never before heard within it. Filled with astonishment, he put his
horse upon its fastest trot, and drove round into the square, to the
shop of Nathan Stoddard.

"There is music to-day in our church, Nathan!" he cried to the young
saddler. "What can it mean?" But Nathan answered not a word. He caught
the horse by the head, and fastened him to a post before the