grimaces. And I did want to be good.

I was not tall enough to see very far over the top of the pew. I
think there were only three persons that came within range of my
eyes. One was a dark man with black curly hair brushed down in
"bangs" over his eyebrows, who sat behind a green baize curtain
near the outside door, peeping out at me, as I thought. I had an
impression that he was the "tidy-man," though that personage had
become mythical long before my day. He had a dragonish look, to
me; and I tried never to meet his glance.

But I did sometimes gaze more earnestly than was polite at a
dear, demure little lady who sat in the corner of the pew next
ours, her downcast eyes shaded by a green calash, and her hidden
right hand gently swaying a long-handled Chinese fan. She was the
deacon's wife, and I felt greatly interested in her movements and
in the expression of her face, because I thought she represented
the people they called "saints," who were, as I supposed, about
the same as first cousins to the angels.

The third figure in sight was the minister. I did not think he
ever saw me; he was talking to the older people,--usually telling
them how wicked they were. He often said to them that there was
not one good person among them; but I supposed he excepted
himself. He seemed to me so very good that I was very much afraid
of him. I was a little afraid of my father, but then he sometimes
played with us children: and besides, my father was only a man.
I thought the minister belonged to some different order of
beings. Up there in the pulpit he seemed to me so far off--oh! a
great deal farther off than God did. His distance made my