door. Then stepping to the side of the sleigh, he said to Mr. Dudley,
"Come with me, Sir." Mr. Dudley looked upon the pale face and
trembling lips of his parishioner, and followed in silence.

Nathan sprang upon the shed at the side of the church, and scrambled
up to the little window. Mr. Dudley followed, and, with Nathan's help,
gained the same precarious foothold. "Look in, Sir," said Nathan, not
venturing a glance himself. Mr. Dudley looked, and had not Nathan's
arm been about his body he would have lost his hold, in sheer
amazement. The building was crowded, as he had never known it before;
and crowded with people whom his eye, versed in the dress and manners
of our forefathers, recognized as the church-goers of a century and a
half ago. The singers' gallery was filled by a choir of girls and
boys, while his own place in the pulpit was occupied by a white-haired
figure, whom he recognized as the original of a portrait which he had
purchased and hung in his parlor at home for its singular beauty. It
was said to be a portrait of a minister in the town, who lived in the
last century, and is still remembered for his virtues. The sight of
this old man's face completely stilled the agitation of the young
minister. He was leaning over the great Bible, with his hands folded
upon it, and his eyes seemingly filled with tears of pleasure and
gratitude, and bent upon the choir. Mr. Dudley listened intently, and
could catch what seemed the words of some old Christmas carol:

"Thou mak'st my cup of joy run o'er."

And he was so rapt with the sights and the sounds within, that it
needed all Nathan's endeavors to uphold him.

By this time the sound of a gathering crowd below, which he had not