be distributed in equal proportions among his hungering flock. His
arrival made itself felt accordingly, not simply in Charlemont,
but throughout the surrounding country for a circuit of ten miles
or more. There was a large and hopeful gathering of all sorts
and sexes, white and black, old and young. Charlemont had a very
pretty little church of its own; but one, and that, with more true
Christianity than is found commonly in this world of pretence and
little tolerance, was open to preachers of all denominations. The
word of God, among these simple folks, was quite too important to
make them scruple at receiving it from the lips of either Geneva,
Rome, or Canterbury. The church stood out among the hills at a
little distance from, but in sight of the village; a small, neat
Grecian-like temple, glimmering white and saintlike through solemn
visaged groves, and gaudy green foliage. The old trees about it
were all kept neatly trimmed, the brush pruned away and cleared up,
and a smooth sweet sward, lawnlike, surrounded it, such as children
love to skip and scramble over, and older children rest at length
upon, in pairs, talking over their sweet silly affections.

Surrounded by an admiring crowd, each of whom had his respectful
salutation, we see our friend John Cross toward noon approaching
the sacred dwelling. Truly he was the most simple, fraternal of
all God's creatures. He had a good word for this, an affectionate
inquiry for that, a benevolent smile, and a kind pressure of the
hand for all. He was a man to do good, for everybody saw that he
thought for others before himself, and sincerity and earnestness
constitute, with the necessary degree of talent, the grand secrets
for making successful teachers in every department.

Though a simple, unsophisticated, unsuspecting creature, John Cross