but not so brilliantly as the theater. This time, from the appearance
of the building, and from the tall steeple,--so tall that his eye could
scarcely reach the tapering spire,--he knew that it must be a church.
There was not such a crowd gathered about the door as at the place he
had just left, but he saw a few persons entering, and he joined them.
The interior of the church was far more gorgeous than the plain village
meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend with his mother. He
gazed about him with a feeling of awe, and sank quietly into a back
pew. As it was a week-day evening, and nothing of unusual interest was
anticipated, there were but few present, here and there one, scattered
through the capacious edifice.

By-and-by the organist commenced playing, and a flood of music, grander
and more solemn than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. He
listened with rapt attention and suspended breath till the last note
died away, and then sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with a
feeling of enjoyment.

In the services which followed he was not so much interested. The
officiating clergyman delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassioned
manner, which failed to awaken his interest. Already disposed to be
drowsy, it acted upon him like a gentle soporific. He tried to pay
attention as he had always been used to do, but owing to his occupying a
back seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but few words reached him,
and those for the most part were above his comprehension.

Gradually the feeling of fatigue--for he had been walking the streets
all day--became so powerful that his struggles to keep awake became
harder and harder. In vain he sat erect, resolved not to yield. The
moment afterwards his head inclined to one side; the lights began to